He’s right. I could get help. But, unfortunately, I am the help. That’s what everyone says. Physician, heal thyself. I only do it because it makes me feel better, but I do admit that it’s got out of hand. You handed the house over to me as part of the divorce settlement. Why would you need it? Besides, it made you look ever more snow-white. With no mortgage to pay and a subsidised restaurant at the uni, I had minimum bills and a lot of salary.

Naturally, conversations in the staffroom revolved around unit trusts and high-power pensions. ISAs. Although I joined in and faked concern about my future, my need was more urgent. Every day, I’d leave my office and plan to watch a film or go to yoga, or something everyone else was planning for the evening ahead. Most days ended with me completely pissed in front of the shopping channel.

From the little I can remember, I would order anything that promised to make my life easier. It seemed to be a running theme on the labels of the items that appeared over the subsequent days. ‘Save time with a combination microwave and oven.’ ‘Improve your kitchen experience with this food processor.’

I’ve been doing it most nights since you left with Charlie and Laura. My regular delivery people came every morning first call, leaving the items on the overgrown path if I was too hungover to surface. I’d heave them in and pile them up. They were almost ceiling high in the lounge, and the kitchen was catching up fast. The hallway was lined with smaller items, mostly costume jewellery. Opened once and then returned to the box.

I’d ordered toys. Lots of toys. There’s a special section at the bottom of the stairs piled high with unopened boxes of toys that I started to buy for Christmas. Surely I’d get to see them at Christmas? Surely you weren’t so cruel that you’d keep them from me then? The boxes never even made it upstairs. They’re still there, a testament to my love.

It made me feel better and I was torn between seeing it as a disorder due to the suffering I had gone through and treating it as part of the healing process. Either way, my home was packed almost to the doors with boxed goods. There were little pathways here and there to allow me to, say, get upstairs, but, on the whole, the house looked nothing like it did when you were here. Maybe that was the point.