But she’s still Paula. Her eyes are narrow and accusing, like the time she mistakenly thought I had taken her chocolate bar or her pocket money. She stands in my kitchen, hands on hips.

‘What the fuck is this?’

Her eyes sweep the boxes and the dirty pots. She walks around and examines the piles of boxes and newspapers. I feel a little bit self-conscious as my feet stick to the dirty tiles when I try to move, making a sucking sound.

‘You’ve got a nerve coming here. What do you want?’

She lifts her phone.

‘Why did you do this?’

It’s the Facebook pictures of her. Above it are the damning photos of Jack and Alicia. I try to remain calm but my voice comes out louder than I intended, as a scream.

‘Because you slept with Jack. You slept with my husband. You’re one of them.’ As an afterthought I add a denial. ‘And I didn’t post it. Someone’s ...’

She slumps down onto the kitchen bench.

‘Don’t do that, Caz. Don’t. Everyone knows it’s you. So let’s bypass that bit.’ She smooths her hair, which is a clear sign that she is under stress.

‘Why are you even here? After Mum and Dad moved I left messages but you didn’t answer. But you turn up now, when the shit hits the fucking fan? Typical. Save your own arse.’

She takes out a gold lighter and a cigarette case. She carefully extracts one and offers it to me, which only highlights that she doesn’t even know me. She’s got the skin of a smoker now I look closer. Little lines around her eyes and mouth. Crinkly skin just waiting for the depth of wrinkles.

‘Actually, I came here to help you.’

‘Fuck off. You? Help me?’

‘Well, it looks like you need it. All this? You can—’

‘Send it back. Get it moved, donate it to charity on eBay? Yes. I know. But I’ve had other things on my mind.’

‘That Jack. That fucking Jack. And for the record, I never slept with him.’

I stare at her. Paula isn’t, or wasn’t, the most truthful person, but I was one of the only people who could tell when she was lying. I’m confused. Why would she be in the journal then?

‘OK, your name is on a list of people Jack has slept with. Marked out of ten. And there are pictures of you.’

She’s nodding vigorously between drags on her cigarette.

‘Yes, I know. But I didn’t sleep with him. He’s a fucking stalker, Caz. How do you think he met those girls? Chance meetings? He’s not all that, you know. Fucking hell. Do you think they were all just waiting around half-clothed for him to come along and fuck them?’