At twenty-five she made a full recovery and re-enrolled in college, studying English Literature, just like Neil. She wanted to learn to express herself. She read Ian McEwan’s Atonement – didn’t just watch the film – and something clicked. It was an awakening of sorts. She felt so deeply about it that she wrote her dissertation on it. It was such a moving essay that it got her a job here – one of London’s most exclusive eldercare facilities. She attached it to her application, and of course it struck a chord with Melissa. Just the kind of sentimental tripe she would fall for. Never mind checking if the girl had any actual work experience.

‘This is Alanna’s true vocation,’ said the reference letter.

Things had come full circle for her.

‘You know when something’s just meant to happen,’ she said. She referred to the essay as one of her greatest achievements, occasionally as the ‘turning point’ in her life. Since then, she’d put her whole heart into nursing. She forwent her last summer holiday in order to take up voluntary work in a Brazilian hospital. It was a transformative experience and she’d come back more determined than ever, with her iPhone filled with colourful landscapes and cute parrots. I doubt they gave her any work to do; she probably stood in the way and took selfies. Because Alanna doesn’t have a clue what real work looks like. She says she loves the care home because it makes her forget how fast the world moves and then she doesn’t get tempted by the bad things. Well, that wouldn’t be such a bad thing in itself if she could accomplish some of the basic tasks and make a valuable contribution. But Alanna lacks any kind of practical sense. She is way too excitable.

I smirk and move out of the way.

‘You start washing and I’ll dry,’ I say.

‘You’re the boss, Ruthi!’ she says.

I stand back as she tips the first bedpan into the sink. She is humming a tune. Alanna is getting married soon. She’s happy.

Alanna – for the record – never wanted a husband. She’s a free spirit. Haven’t you seen her peace tattoo? It’s on her ribs, just under the armpit; she’ll lift up her shirt to show you. She got it a while back to celebrate her first year clean. It’s a symbol of freedom. And yet here she is, four years later, acquiring a husband like it’s nothing at all. Easy for some. No wonder: Alanna is disgustingly cute. Alanna is so tiny and sickly sweet, like jelly babies caught between the teeth. When I dream about her I wake up with a furry mouth, like I got drunk on vodka pops the night before.

‘So this guy,’ I say. ‘Is he any good?’