‘Wait,’ I call before I can change my mind. ‘I’m sorry, Thea. It’s a wonderful offer. Do you mind hanging on for a few minutes? I would ask you in, but…’

‘You take as much time as you need.’

I lean forward and give her a hug. ‘You are so kind,’ I say. ‘I promise I won’t keep you waiting long.’

Thea shrugs. ‘I’m not doing anything else and I’ve got some music to listen to. Pack enough for a couple of nights. You can always come back for more.’

I suddenly feel so much better, and there is a slight spring in my step as I walk up the path to the front door.

My moment of positivity is soon crushed.

‘Who was that old bag you were talking to?’ Ian says, without looking up from his newspaper. ‘And what the fuck are you doing home at this hour?’

I look around the room. Although I tidied it and cleaned over the weekend, it’s back to looking a tip with two coffee mugs and a plate of half-eaten toast on the floor.

‘I’m here because I’ve been sacked.’

That gets Ian’s attention and his head jerks up. ‘What?’ There is a trace of a smile on his face, and I can’t decide whether it is because he is enjoying my pain, or whether it is pleasure that his plan has come to fruition, or both.

‘There was a Facebook post about Tim apparently made by me, but I’ve no idea how that happened. Anyway, the details don’t matter.’

Ian throws his head back and laughs. ‘How the mighty are fallen! This is priceless. You do know that if you’re sacked you can’t claim benefit for three months, don’t you? Maybe you’ll realise it’s not so easy to get a job now, after nagging me for all this time.’

I’m almost certain now that it was him.

‘I will get a job, Ian, whatever it takes. It doesn’t have to be an office job. I’ll work in a bar, as a cleaner. I don’t care. But I’ll have to cancel the lease on the car.’

Ian crumples the newspaper and throws it on the floor. ‘Don’t be fucking ridiculous. I need a car.’

‘Fine, you pay for it,’ I tell him, walking towards the door.

He leaps up from his chair. ‘Where do you think you’re going?’ he asks, storming across the room and blocking my way.

‘I’m going to stay with a friend for a while. I need to work out what to do.’

‘Which friend? You don’t have any.’

I have no intention of telling him where I’m going. Not that I know any details.

‘And how am I supposed to eat now that you’ve cleared out the bank account?’ he says, a whine of self-pity in his voice.