Irene knew she wouldn’t sleep now, although during the film a few hours ago she had been struck by waves of weariness, so she’d had to strain her eyes wide open and sit up straighter on her cushion, taking small nips at the glass of wine she’d made last the entire evening; nowadays, she never had more than one glass of wine with her meal, and even that she would often leave barely touched. She looked in on Sasha, then padded downstairs to the kitchen where plates were stacked up in the sink, and the table was covered with smeary glasses, empty beer bottles, balled-up paper napkins, torn-off hunks of bread.

She put Clemmie’s sheets on to wash and then snapped on rubber gloves, emptied the sink of plates, and filled it with hot soapy water. She worked methodically, washing first the cutlery, then the glasses, finally the plates and bowls. She emptied the ashtrays and swilled out wine and beer bottles before putting them in the box for recycling, threw cushions back onto chairs, vacuumed the carpet, poking the nozzle into dusty corners, sucking up crumbs and dust and coloured beads that rattled down the throat of the old machine. Although her eyes were sore with tiredness she was far from sleep now, and there was a satisfaction in returning the room to its normal condition, putting things in their exact place and knowing that in the morning it would look as if nothing had happened the evening before.

It was three o’clock in the morning. She imagined all the other people who must be awake right now, making love, swallowing pills, writing poems, sobbing into their pillows, nursing newborn babies to their cracked nipples, staring at the curtains and waiting for a strip of grey dawn to appear. In the cupboard there were several boxes of teas: lemon and ginger, lemon verbena, blackcurrant, mint, camomile, something called ‘tranquillity tea’ which smelt dusty, like hay or old geraniums. She dropped a bag of lemon verbena into a mug and poured boiling water over it, draped the washed sheets over the radiator, then sat on the sofa in the dark living room, her legs curled up under her, cupping the mug in her chapped hands, sipping very slowly at the infusion while the fragrant steam rose into her face. Rain blew in gusts against the window and she shivered and tightened the belt on her gown.