‘Maybe,’ the woman says, ‘there’s a gap in the market for a helpline where someone just calls you a dick and tells you to get on with it. You babble on about your so-called problems, and at the end they just say: “Yeah, get your shit together and stop being a dick.” I actually think that’d be quite effective.’

I should really stop laughing so much. I have no idea what this person is going through – maybe she’s deflecting her pain with humour, using it as a defence mechanism to hide how much she’s really struggling. The problem is, she is undeniably pretty funny. I clear my throat and try to be a bit more professional.

‘For what it’s worth, you wouldn’t believe the number of calls we get from people in a very similar position to yourself, who are feeling the exact same thing.’

‘Right,’ she says. ‘So, I’m not a dick; I’m just staggeringly unoriginal.’

‘Exactly.’

More laughter – from both of us.

I hear her take another sip of her drink. ‘God, this is so weird. This is the most honest conversation I’ve had in months, and it’s with someone I can’t see and whose name I don’t even know. What does that say about me?’

‘It says that you’re feeling low and you made the right decision to reach out for help,’ I say, firmly. ‘And as for names, if you like, you can call me Jack.’

She laughs softly. ‘So I’m guessing your name’s not Jack, then?

‘Well, we use “safe names” on this line. It just makes things…’

‘Safer?’

‘Yeah.’

‘OK. Well… Can I tell you my name?’ she asks.

‘Of course, if you want to. And if you don’t want to that’s fine, too.’

‘Hmm.’ I hear the rustle of the phone shifting as she moves around. I suddenly wonder where she is. What she looks like. ‘Maybe I’ll give myself a safe name as well.’

‘If you like.’

‘OK.’ There’s a pause. ‘You can call me Pia.’

‘OK, Pia,’ I say. ‘Nice to meet you, Pia.’

‘Nice to meet you too, Jack.’

The computer fades into sleep mode and in the black screen I catch my own reflection – a silly grin plastered across my face. Weird. Can’t remember the last time I saw myself smile.

For a second, neither of us says anything. And then:

‘I broke up with my fiancé,’ she says. ‘Four months ago.’

‘OK…’