But he knows he must stop dwelling on her, because he’s got more immediate problems to solve, like where the hell he’s going to sleep tonight.

Theoretically, Cambridge is an option – he’s sure his parents would take him back if he asked – but he can’t face his dad’s mocking expression, or his mum’s sympathetic one. There are his mates to consider too, how much they’d take the piss out of him. Big gaming genius back with his mama. Mark’s still got a few quid in his account, the remnants of his last pay packet, so he could try Mrs Mason again, promise that he’ll get a new job and be more respectful of her home this time. But she’s probably got another lodger by now, and anyway, there’s not much chance of her forgiving him after he kicked a hole in her wall.

So that leaves Stew. Would he have Mark back in his little flat in Tooting? Just for a few nights until he gets himself sorted? Yeah, things got a little out of control last time he stayed, and Stew’s face did look pretty battered in the morning. But he must see it from Mark’s point of view; Stew wasn’t exactly the innocent party. Mark eyes the bus grunting down Garratt Lane. The 270 will take him all the way to Tooting, practically to Stew’s flat. He knows it’s a gamble, but it’s not like he’s flush with options. He picks up his bag, swings it over his shoulder, and uses the rear exit to climb on board.

‘You’ve got a fucking cheek coming here.’ Stew glowers at Mark from the doorstep, his arms crossed, and feet planted so wide that they’re almost touching the walls of his hallway, as though he’s transformed himself into a child safety gate.

‘Look, I’m sorry for losing my shit that night,’ Mark says, trying to sound conciliatory, which is hard because he’s tired, hungover and still pissed off with the arrogant prick stood in front of him. ‘But I was hammered, and it was ages ago now.’ Mark smiles and hopes that the cold wind is carrying the stench of his unwashed body in the opposite direction.

‘You kicked the crap out of me in my own home, even after I offered you a place to stay when that old lady threw you out.’

‘I know, and I was grateful, but when you smashed my Mac, I just saw red. My whole future was on that computer.’

‘It fell,’ Stew snaps. ‘It was an accident.’

‘It cost me over a grand,’ Mark explains. ‘My game design portfolio was sat on its desktop.’

‘That doesn’t excuse what you did – I thought you were going to kill me.’