A tiny murmur escapes from deep inside a filing cabinet. I slide the drawer out ever so slowly. Benny cowers inside. He meows at me. Help. He looks – and smells –awful. I burst into tears.

Wrapping him tenderly in a towel, I carry him upstairs for some much-needed water, a wipe-down and some love.

After I’ve done the dirty work, Benny chips in and begins to groom himself. He licks his front paw and wipes it across his sweet face – it appears he’s regained bowel control. Soon, he’s gobbling at his Royal Canin pellets.

I leave him to it and burst into the bathroom. Jordan is still under the shower, using up all the hot water.

‘What did you do to the cat?’

‘What did I do to the cat? Grace, did you fail to notice that cat has completely destroyed—’

‘I found Benny. He’s clearly been ill. He wasn’t when I went to bed last night. What did you do to him?’

‘I didn’t do anything,’ Jordan says, indignant behind his curtain of steam.

‘Jordan, don’t lie to me!’

‘What the hell is wrong with you? Maybe the damn thing finally ate the Pussy Paws and it didn’t agree with him? How should I know? He disappeared last night. Bloody thing hates me.’

I’m shaking. ‘How, exactly, did Benny eat the Pussy Paws food? Did you inject it into his… into his tiny mouth, Jordan, with my bloody great piping bag?’ I’m crying, quite uncontrollably. My boyfriend is a monster who would hurt a tiny animal. There is no talking that can get us out of this one. The best make-up sex in the world wouldn’t cut it. Finally, there is no hope.

‘Good God, of course not. I told you, he wouldn’t eat it,’ Jordan insists.

My lovely Maida Vale flat has dodgy plumbing, such that turning on the cold tap at the washbasin instantly renders the shower water scalding hot. I run the cold tap full force. Jordan leaps out from behind the glass screen.

‘Seriously! What is wrong with you?’ he screeches, his usually pasty skin scarlet all the way down his front.

‘I hate you,’ I hiss. ‘You hear me, Jordan Piper? I hate you! Unless it’s to help me clean up this bloody mess you’ve caused, I want you out of my flat. I’m done. I’m done with everything. I never want to see you again.’

Benny pokes his head into the bathroom to check on me. I follow him into the kitchen and drop into a chair. He jumps on my lap and kneads softly into my pyjamas with his claws. I’m still sitting there when Jordan flees, his rucksack and his sports bag slung over his shoulders, slamming the door behind him.