‘Get the fuck away from me.’ Funny how easy it was to say now. It was as if saying it to the RA had unstopped the bottle and all the fuck-offs fermenting inside were bubbling out. ‘Just fuck right off, I mean it.’

‘Could report you to management for talking like that.’

‘Report this.’ Lena stuck her finger up.

They left, laughing. Barb said something about not rising to the bait. Lena couldn’t listen. The whole world was bait. She couldn’t move without getting hooked through the guts.

I think people at work know

What happened? from Annie.

Just comments and looks and stuff. Sleazy shit

Fuck em, from Lou.

Go to Human Resources, Annie wrote. Tell them you’re being harassed #metoo. They’ll shit themselves

Human resources! Would that be ancient Yvette who still collated the timesheets by hand, or the snappy bitch of an office assistant who spoke like organising the electronic funds transfer was fucking rocket science, met any questions about late or wrong payments with an exasperated sigh and a lecture about how complicated the system was? Maybe it was the store manager, a man Lena had never seen let alone spoken to, or his 2IC, who was known to the women of the store as the Creeper?

Nic would get it.

Nic was not an option.

Think I’ll just quit. Like right now. Just walk out

That’s what I’m talkin about! Fuck. Them. From Annie.

That’s my girl. Walk with your head held high, said Lou.

But later that night, Lou texted again: Sorry about the work sitch. That must suck

What doesn’t these days?

You, girl. You do not. Hang in there

Back at Nic’s, three hours earlier than she should have been and with a whole new series of messages to delete—these from her manager—ex-manager—she turned on the TV, watched without registering what she was seeing for a long while. Slowly some of the content leaked into her consciousness. A reality show where old English people brought fancy shit down from their attics and presented it to other old English people who declared it was worth hundreds or thousands of pounds and then, as often as not, the owners declared they would keep it because of its sentimental value and Lena thought, Bullshit, that ugly fucking figurine will be up on eBay before the credits roll.

Oh. An obvious solution. She’d always been a bit slow. Not stupid, though. She knew there wouldn’t be any items worth thousands in this mess, but there were so very, very many items that even a buck or two for each would add up nicely.