‘I always wanted one,’ someone else said. ‘You can blast your monster to another Tamagotchi phone. So, someone else can look after it if you’re away from it. Instead of having to watch it die while you’re in class or a meeting. I think it’s called a Tamapichi – the phone. But, yeah, what he said – it only works on PHS.’

It was less use than a pager. The network was dead – it had never worked outside Japan, ever. It made no sense that anyone she’d invited round would have had a phone like this. Or at least had a phone like this they carried around. She’d cleaned under the bed countless times. She stopped, the cutlery drawer open in her hand. She looked around the house. Since she’d been alone, she hadn’t cleaned much. There was so much to do. She was having trouble just keeping on top of the dishes and laundry. She went to the bedroom and looked under the bed. It was dusty and there were a couple of plastic bags under there from food she’d brought to bed. She hadn’t cleaned under there since she’d been alone.

She looked further and further under the bed. She was getting covered in dust as she slithered further and further under. There was nothing. No charger, anyway. One of them would have noticed the phone, because they were always cleaning the flat and that included under the bed. There was time for that when there were two of them. She lay for a moment face down under the bed in the filth and the dust. The phone must have arrived since she’d been alone. She had to stop. She had to go and get some work done, or eat, or turn on music, or do something that normal people did. She needed to stop looking for the charger. There was a knock at the door. She pulled herself out from under the bed. It was Heidi.

‘Fuck,’ Heidi said. ‘Filthy much?’

Margaret brushed one hand through her hair and the other down the front of her shirt. A dusty strand of hair came off in her hands. She was still holding the new phone. ‘Cleaning,’ she said.

‘You didn’t get the pizza stone out of the letterbox.’ Heidi held up a plastic bag the shape of the pizza stone. ‘I put it there weeks ago.’ She walked into the kitchen and looked around at the mess. Drawers pulled out. Contents all over the place.

‘Cleaning,’ Margaret said again.

Heidi put the pizza-stone-filled plastic bag on the table.

She walked over to the kettle and turned it on. ‘Do you want a cuppa?’

Margaret nodded. ‘Yeah.’

‘Have you eaten?’

Margaret shook her head. ‘Some bread,’ she said. ‘A tomato.’

‘Cool.’ Heidi set down a paper bag on the bench and pulled two sandwiches out of it. She looked through the cupboards to find a plate.