‘What, tonight? I don’t know. Probably going to turn in early. I’m pretty tired.’

He pulled a face. ‘Shame. I was kind of hoping there might be someone decent to talk to when I finish work tonight.’ Then he frowned. ‘Are you sure you’re all right?’

‘Of course, why wouldn’t I be?’

And then the packet shot out from under my arm and landed on the dirty carpet at our feet.

I scooped it up almost instantly, but not before he’d had a good chance to figure out what it was. His eyes widened. He said, ‘Jenny…’

I could have scuttled away. Instead I carried on standing there, and he said, ‘So that’s what’s going on, is it?’

‘Yeah. I… I just found out.’

We stood there looking at each other for a little longer. Sean said, ‘That sucks.’

I half managed a smile. After all, many things sucked: being fired, the bank refusing to extend your overdraft, being rejected by someone you’d fallen for… Things sucking was part of life, part of the natural order of things. But it wasn’t disastrous. Usually it meant you could figure out a way to pick yourself up, dust yourself down and carry on.

‘Yeah. It does,’ I agreed.

Then a door opened further along the corridor – one of our other housemates on the move. Sean retreated into the safety of the bathroom, and I bolted.

Later that afternoon I got up the courage to creep downstairs and find the house phone, which was on a long, curly extension cord, and take it back up to my room.

I’d practised what I was going to say over and over again. I had to do it. I had to get it out of the way before I went out of my mind.

But it wasn’t him who answered the phone.

It was a woman.

Her.

All she said was, ‘Hello?’

I garbled something about a wrong number and hung up. How obvious was that? If he was there, he’d know for certain that it was me.

Sure enough, about an hour later the phone rang. I didn’t recognise the number, but picked up anyway. I had a feeling it would be him, and it was.

‘You really, really can’t do that again,’ he said. ‘Paula’s vulnerable. Unstable. If she has any idea that something’s going on, I have no idea what she might be capable of doing. She can be a very volatile character. Do you understand?’

There it was, my chance to tell him.

I hesitated.

Then I said, ‘Yes.’

He breathed a deep sigh of relief. ‘Good. I had to leave the house to ring you. I don’t think she suspects anything, but I might not be able to get away with it another time. Now, was there something you wanted to tell me?’

‘No. Not really. I shouldn’t have called. I get that, now.’

‘OK. Goodbye, Jenny.’

‘Goodbye.’

And that was it. I wished I hadn’t even made the attempt, that I’d left him alone as he had asked. He could hardly have been clearer: whatever happened to me in future, he really didn’t want to know.