‘To be honest, I’ve known for a long time. Actually, I’m not sure I’ve ever been completely all right, not really. But maybe that’s just the way it is. Apples falling close to trees and all that.’ Lou picked up her empty coffee cup and stared into it like she was trying to read her own fortune.

‘It’s like, you start off just having a bit of a shit day, then it turns into a shit week and then, before you know it, you’re in the middle of a completely shit month. Then two.’ She put the mug on the ground by her feet abruptly, and I wondered what she’d seen in there.

‘It feels like you’re standing a safe distance from a vortex and you can see it spinning around and around. You know you should keep away from the edges, but you just can’t help inching closer. Then suddenly you’re in it, and even though it’s black and it’s scary and it feels like the tiredest, saddest place you’ve ever been, it also kind of feels . . . I don’t know, comfortable. Like it’s so much easier to just give in and spin around deeper and deeper into that vortex than it is to try and head back to the edges. You know?’

I knew something. I knew if I tried to speak I’d probably embarrass myself and besides, we had an agreement. I moved my head and hoped it passed for a nod.

‘And the thing is, Danny, I’m OK, mostly. But sometimes I just feel so overwhelmed with the . . .’ She shook her head in frustration, struggling to find the right word. ‘I don’t know, just the bigness of everything.’ She slapped her hand on the arm of the chair and a little puff of dust rose out of the fabric. We watched it settle.

‘The week of the Tesco van, there was a guy, a client, and I couldn’t get him a place, not even an emergency bed, and . . .’ She trailed off and looked down at the worn velvet like she was going to have another crack at it. ‘I couldn’t stop thinking about him and everyone else who was relying on me. It’s like I have their lives in my hands – I’m literally the fork in the road for some of them. But it doesn’t matter how much I do, it’s never going to be enough, because there’s always someone else that’s going to need saving and everything just seems so . . . hopeless sometimes, that’s all.’

That’s all. I felt a small electric jolt in my chest, because of course that wasn’t all. It was far from all, and how had I missed it? That day at their flat, how had I not noticed my sister and her daughter weren’t just a couple of people feeling a little bit down about the inconvenience of a broken leg? Cut-off, jagged mental images started dropping into place, like grenades popping off around me.