Alexa took a little time over it, relishing the fleeting moment of solitude. Then, grasping the side of what looked like a bed headboard for balance, she climbed out of Elias’s chaos for the last time, holding the box of urine at arm’s length.

She carried the smelly liquid downstairs and disposed of it in the bathroom, leaving the perspex box in the bath to be (thoroughly) washed out. She locked the door and used the toilet – closing her eyes in relief that she was free and hadn’t had to use the box – and then washed her hands. She gulped some water from the tap, gratefully.

When she unlocked and opened the bathroom door, she heard the din of voices from downstairs and – she winced – some splashing. Down the hall, her bedroom door was open. She peered inside.

The curtains were still pulled and the duvet was balled in the centre of the mattress, sheets a little rumpled. She resisted the urge to hide from the world. Instead, she walked downstairs to join the others, her feet squelching as she reached the hall.

24. Ellen

‘Jesus, fuck,’ Ellen said, in blasphemous horror, rolling up her jogging bottoms to her thighs as though she were paddling in the sea. It was dreadful, surreal. The security deposit had definitely drowned somewhere in this mess.

One of the firemen looked a little agitated.

‘He’ll evict us,’ Ellen blurted, with a rush in her gut and her throat.

‘Look at that bag.’ Ben, whose jeans were also pulled up around his knees, was pointing at the back door, where a sodden tote bag was plastered against the glass.

‘How do we get rid of the water?’ Ellen breathed. The horror felt like bile in her throat.

The firemen exchanged glances.

‘We can hose the worst of it out,’ the very tall fireman began. ‘You’ll need to get it wet vacuumed after that, I reckon.’ Then he added, cautiously, professionally, ‘Are you the homeowner?’

Ellen looked at him. ‘Do I look like a homeowner?’ With one hand, she gestured with a flourish at her pink tracksuit bottoms. The water was cold, and she had goosebumps. ‘Obviously, we rent this place. Hence the fears of eviction.’

‘Righto,’ replied the fireman, brightening at the opportunity to get procedural. ‘Well, in that case, you should probably get in touch with the landlord – explain what’s happened here. His insurance should cover most of it … it’s not your fault.’

‘Isn’t it?’ asked Ellen, quickly. They surely wouldn’t get off that lightly. ‘Trust me, the landlord will find a way to make it our fault.’

Alexa had appeared behind her.