I felt quite calm as I helped her to the table like Dom had, and unexpectedly proud when I whisked out the little wooden stool, à la George, and arranged her leg on it, Wolfie-style. And while the stilted conversation over the next ten minutes was almost exclusively about cappuccino froth, by the time I’d excused myself (with a genuine excuse this time), I was filled with a confidence I hadn’t felt since the day of my fruit machine jackpot. I could do this. Because if I could survive being alone in a room with my sister, everything else would be a doddle. I could answer those letters and tell those people what they wanted to hear. I could be their guru, if that’s what they needed. For three hundred pounds, I could definitely give it a crack, anyhow.

So, with rain drumming on the roof of my shed and a kernel of hope in my heart, I propped myself up in bed like a king and a cat. I had a book of blank pages, three throw cushions from Dom’s sofa behind me, and a head full of a girl who’d thought I had all the answers.

Fifteen minutes later, hope was fading and the rain had seeped into the rafters, forming a drip just to the left of my head.

Three hours later, the drip had officially become a leak. I looked at the mess of five pages of scribbled notes and googled the opposite to guru. Amateur.

Sounded about right.

FAKE TREV

Dear Danny Mulberry, straight up, I want to tell you this letter’s on the level. I’m adding that in because I showed it to my girlfriend to check the spelling and she reckons it makes me sound like I’m a bit of a crackpot. But if wanting to broaden my spiritual and celestial horizons makes me a crackpot, so be it and bombs away, baby.

I’m planning on experimenting with some basic astral travel as a way of getting to the next level of consciousness, and to be perfectly honest, what I’m looking for is a bit of specialist chemical or organic asistance to provide some lift-off, if you know what I mean. I’ve been doing my own research (which has been a bit of an eye-opener, I can tell you), but I can tell by looking at you that you’re a guy who knows his bud from his leaf and his Lucy from his blues (that’s a compliment by the way), so I’d really appreciate a personal recommendation from your own experiences. Obviously I’d have a much smaller budget than you’re used to, and also I need to be a bit careful because I’ve got some early mornings coming up. We’re about to pour the foundations for a really big job, and my boss Cliffy said that if I let him down one more time he’ll cement me into the slab himself.

I guess what I’m looking for is something that’s going to get me to where I want to go, but also that’ll bring me back to this mortal plane in one piece without any long-lasting after-effects.