He paused, then exhaled forcefully.

‘You can stay in Joanna’s room,’ he said.

Joanna’s room hadn’t changed since we were teenagers. There were the racks of her shoes, their funk softened by time. Her noticeboard covered with cards and invitations and photographs. She had a king-sized bed, and though the sheets were dusty, they were gloriously soft and comfortable. That first night in the Mortons’ house was the best night’s sleep I’d had in a long time.

Before I went to sleep, I texted one of my housemates to let her know where I was. She didn’t answer. I hardly knew her. I wouldn’t be missed.

Later, it occurred to me that I hadn’t thought to call Mrs Morton. I wondered whether Ian’s condition was something I should tell her about. Would she be concerned – would she pity him? Or would there be a note of schadenfreude in her voice? Though I’d known her for years, I had no idea who she was outside this house. I tried to imagine calling her, but my imagination couldn’t come up with anything for her to say. Instead I pictured her holding the phone in silence, a tower of profiteroles hovering nearby.

The next morning Ian called a friend who was a doctor.

I sat in Joanna’s room and heard them talking in low voices. There were occasional groans, and one more cry like the one Ian had made at the door. Eventually I was called back into the living room. The friend, a tall, cheerful man with a double chin like a bullfrog’s, said, ‘It’s a good thing you’re here.’

Ian was wearing a clean grey tracksuit. He looked red in the face, tinier than ever.

‘So you’re okay?’ I asked.

‘Obviously not,’ the doctor said before Ian could answer. ‘He should have the blasted things removed. But he won’t listen to a word I say. Look at him. He’s a mule.’

‘I’m fine,’ Ian said.

‘He’ll be high as a kite in about ten minutes,’ the doctor said, glancing at his watch. ‘He’ll probably go right to sleep. Ian’s told me you’ve agreed to stay until they’re out. Otherwise I would insist he go to a hospital.’

Ian interrupted. ‘Thank you, Stephen.’

The doctor gave me his card. ‘Call me if he needs me,’ he said, and winked.

‘I hope it wasn’t presumptuous of me to tell him you’d stay,’ Ian said once the doctor had gone. ‘I will compensate you for your time. That goes without saying.’

‘Thank you,’ I said, ‘It’s no problem.’

I hoped he couldn’t tell that I was wondering how much compensation I would get.