Or at least, nothing you’re likely to be able to help me with, such as: should I put on my sexiest dress (which wasn’t, very) or should I wait until later on in the course to make my move on him? The thought of her making a move on anyone was so funny, so unlikely, she couldn’t help smiling as she set off.

Once she found her room and was inside, she felt instantly thrown back to her own university days. There was the single bed, the noticeboard with remnants of posters and timetables still showing. There was a desk, witness to much struggle, boredom and despair, and the small shelf for books that meant that when she was at university, Laura’s room had had neat piles of books ranged round the walls. There was a tiny shower room that smelt slightly of drains.

The whole place needed decorating and Laura hoped that their students wouldn’t feel disgruntled by having been put in this run-down block. Still, the teaching would be wonderful and they weren’t actually paying to attend. It would be all right. She realised she was nervous about her part in it all, even if it was mainly administrative. She was to help with scheduling for private tuition, check everyone was happy and generally do anything that Dermot felt was not in his job description. But as she hadn’t seen any of the correspondence regarding the course, she wasn’t sure what this might involve. There was only so much you could cover over the phone.

Making sure her door wouldn’t slam shut behind her, Laura went down the corridor and found the communal kitchen. This at least was clean and the fridge was on. She had better buy some tea bags, coffee and milk, she realised, but she could do that later.

As she went back to her room Laura wondered if she’d be invited to drink red wine out of paper cups and talk until the early hours? Or would she be considered to be a teacher, like Dermot? Worst would be to have governess status – neither one thing nor another.

She filled her kettle and made a cup of peppermint tea. She wasn’t eighteen, leaving her parents for the first time; she was an adult. But actually she’d really loved university, getting away from home. She knew that if it weren’t for her anxieties about Dermot, seeing him again, having to talk him into doing things for the festival that he was going to hate, she’d have loved going back to uni.

She was just wondering what she should do next when her phone rang.

‘Laura? It’s Dermot. What sort of a hole have they put me in?’

A smile spread across Laura’s face, just at hearing his voice. ‘Dermot! You’ve got a special staff flat. Don’t tell me you’re not happy with it?’

‘It smells.’