‘Like, the fourteenth?’ Peggy was pulling on their Converse All Stars. She pulled a floral dress over a long-sleeved top and leggings. The dress had been bigger. She was looking around for their fisherman’s rib jumper. Then she stopped. ‘But . . .’ She rubbed her eyes and the black eyeliner left over from the day before smeared more. ‘We can’t fly too close to the wind, ’cause it’s not like if we spend the rent it’ll magically come again from somewhere else.’

‘How much do we have in cash?’

Peggy started going through the pockets of the jackets and trousers on the floor.

They’d gone to a budget advisor. He hadn’t said much and had mainly looked at the pieces of paper their case manager had sent. He’d cut their credit card up in front of them – while they were still sitting there. They’d looked in the rubbish bin at the fragments of plastic while he moved on to other things. He rang the gym that had sent their debt to a debt collector, and worked out ‘terms’.

They were on a sickness benefit, but every now and then they’d sleep with men for money. The counsellor at rehab said if they sat in the barber’s chair long enough they’d get a haircut, which as far as they could tell was true (the others from rehab were falling like flies), but sometimes the rent was due and it wasn’t like anyone would give either of them a job. A job that still left time to go to meetings and counselling and doctor’s appointments. ‘That’s what the sickness benefit is for,’ the counsellor said as he signed the forms for them before they left rehab. ‘So you can concentrate on staying sober.’

They wanted to stay sober more than anything. They sat up late into the night talking about how much they wanted to stay clean. How much they wanted to start a new life. What they’d do to stay away from a drink. ‘If I was like . . . if I thought I was going to drink, I’d fucking . . . I’d go to the police station and say “Arrest me” and if they wouldn’t, I’d break a window.’ ‘Yeah,’ they’d both say. ‘Yeah.’ They went to a meeting every day – most days they went to two meetings. They were making friends. They got invited to go tenpin bowling. They got sick together and they’d get well together.

‘Three dollars,’ Peggy said. She was resting the combination of coins in her hand – they had small hands.

‘Well,’ said Greta, who was still lying on the bed. ‘That’s the noodles already. Like, in your hand.’