Ada took some photos, closed the door. ‘Okay,’ she said. ‘Thanks for showing me around.’

‘Did we pass?’

That kind smile again. Pity stabbed Lena in the throat. The shit this tiny, kind woman had to deal with every day.

‘I have to report back to my supervisor, who’ll have the final sign-off. But I don’t think it’ll be a problem. The level of clutter is non-critical.’

‘Woohoo!’ Will said. ‘High five!’

Lena ignored his raised hand. Ada slapped it with a giggle and Lena instantly liked her more and trusted her judgement less.

‘Are you sure? Like, if you think your supervisor might say no is there anything we can do now to—’

‘You’ve done a great job, Lena. Both of you. Nicole’s lucky to have family like you. So many people in this situation have to rely on contract cleaners and they just …’ Ada swept her arm across the empty space. ‘Everything gone.’

Sounds wonderful, Lena thought.

‘Poor buggers,’ Will said. ‘It must be awful to have no one.’

After Ada had left, an hour before the skip was due to be picked up, Will said maybe they’d gone too far.

‘Excuse me?’

‘With chucking stuff out. Like, maybe we got carried away and—’

‘Please, Will. Can you not?’

‘It’s just that Ada said—’

‘Don’t.’ Lena pushed past him to get inside Nic’s room. She closed the door, looked again at the results of her extraordinary week’s work.

More anonymous and strictly utilitarian than her room at uni. Like some 1950s boarding house for unwed mothers, where the sparseness of the surroundings is both punishment for your sins and an attempt to make you too depressed to consider escape. All it needed was a wooden crucifix on the wall and a worn leather-bound Bible on the bedside table.

Her phone had been silently vibrating in her pocket throughout Ada’s tour of the house. She pulled it out, glanced at the screen full of messages from Unknown Caller, from Annie, from Lou, from Mum. And from Nic. Nic saying DONT and PLEASE and I DIDNT AGREE. She threw the phone hard against the opposite wall. A sickening, expensive crack and then it lay face down on the carpet, shimmying a half-centimetre every time a new message arrived.