I sat on the bed and stewed for a few minutes, listening to Dad tramp down the stairs and out the front door. I hadn’t lived in this house my whole life, but most of it, and I couldn’t remember the parts from before. I’d known I’d have to leave sooner rather than later; I was the one who’d made those applications to a university in another country, without a second thought of staying home. Back then I’d thought this place would still be here when I needed it. Instead of moving on, it felt like everything behind me was being wiped out, as though I had conjured it into being and when I wasn’t looking it all disappeared.

The doorbell rang and I groaned because I was the only one home to answer it. Whoever it was, they weren’t invited. Part of me hoped it would be Jehovah’s Witnesses. I’d run off and join them. Give up this life and focus on . . . I had no idea what their craic was.

“Oh Jesus,” I said when I opened the door. “What do you want?”

Oliver rolled his eyes and threw my top at me. I didn’t quite catch it and I had to peel it off my face.

“It was in with our dry cleaning,” he said. “Some people would say thank you.”

“Some people would burn this just because you touched it,” I said, but I threw it on the back of a chair instead.

“Are you going to invite me in or what?” he said, looking over my shoulder into the house. “I want to see how the less fortunate live.”

“Everyone is ‘the less fortunate’ to you,” I said, but I let him in.

He took in the cluttered, cozy living room I’d grown up in, with its knickknacks and colorful throws everywhere.

“So they live in chaos.” He ran a finger along the back of the sofa and pretended to inspect it for dust. “How sad.”

“Weak.”

“Whatever. What are you up to anyway?” He looked around the room as though it would give him a clue.

“I was watching a film, and I’d like to get back to it,” I said.

“I could watch a film,” he said. “If you made me a cup of tea or something.”

I thought about booting him out, but something about him coming around with my top in the middle of the day, in the middle of the summer holidays, made me feel like I’d be kicking a puppy. An obnoxious puppy who would pee on your bed and chew on your shoes. Or maybe refuse to chew on your shoes until you bought expensive designer ones.

I made us two cups of tea while Oliver inspected each of the cupboards until he found a packet of biscuits. I stared in disbelief.

“Are you forgetting how much vodka you’ve stolen from me?”