‘No?’ But I could smell the stale fug of cigarettes too. ‘It must have been Grace. I’ll have a word.’

‘Please do. It’s not healthy. Anyway, as I said,’ Meena continued, ‘I was ringing the doorbell so many times and you didn’t reply, so Ronu suggested I let myself in. To check you were okay.’ She had the dignity to flush – faintly, but I saw it. No one had told me she had a key. Her eyes slid to an expensive-looking bouquet of flowers propped up on the table. ‘And to give you these.’

I looked at them, reluctant to admit their beauty and let her score a point.

‘What are they for?’ I said.

‘Your birthday. Today?’

‘Oh, I… thank you.’ Shit. My birthday already? Sweat broke out all over me and I swayed. I could feel the dampness rank under my arms and I hoped Meena couldn’t smell that, too. My heart stamped out one of those flurries it did when I stopped drinking after a heavy night: clip-clippety-thump. Clippety-thump.

‘I need water,’ I said, grabbing a dirty glass from the counter and filling it from the tap. I drank greedily and nausea washed over me. I put the glass down and held the sink top for a moment until it subsided. I rubbed a hand across my forehead and it came away wet.

‘I’m sorry,’ I said when I’d gathered myself. The only way to deal with Meena was to bow down. ‘I was up all night painting. I couldn’t sleep. I’m sorry I didn’t hear the door.’

Meena tutted. ‘And what’s with your cat miaowing?’ She tilted her head. ‘He sounds frantic. Is he okay?’

We both looked up the stairs from where I now noticed panicky miaows were coming.

‘I don’t know. It’s unlike him. He usually comes to see visitors…’

We both went up to the landing. The miaows were coming from the bathroom. As we got closer, I could hear the sound of claws scratching at the door. As I opened it, Alfie rocketed out and my nostrils flared. In the bath, three shiny brown slugs of excrement lay in a yellow-green puddle. Meena’s jaw clenched and she turned abruptly.

‘Looks like he got locked in,’ I said. ‘Poor baby. He must have been there all night. I don’t know how that happened.’

I did, though. I could picture exactly how it happened. Grace.

Alfie circled the hall, mewing and mewing, shouting at me; his miaow catching and extending like an accusation: I was locked up! Where were you? I followed as he led the way downstairs, tail twitching, then I changed his water and squeezed a sachet of wet food into a saucer, all the while trying not to gag at the smell. Alfie started eating before the dish even touched the floor.