Partly, she supposed, the problem was that they didn’t have a living room. What should be the communal space was in fact Ellen’s bedroom, where Alexa and Ellen would often watch television in the evenings and on weekends. It was always untidy in there but, as a result, more relaxing than Alexa’s room. It looked on to the street, so Ellen invariably had the curtains drawn, even in broad daylight. She had squeezed a small sofa in there, where the two of them would sit, with the laptop resting on a borrowed kitchen chair, stationed in the middle of the room, while they took it in turns to rest their feet on Ellen’s knock-off Eames armchair. She had bought it on eBay, thrilling at the maturity of her purchase (furniture!), until it arrived and it was cat-sized. Alexa had laughed – it was very funny – then sympathized that it was easy to forget to read the measurements. Ellen did not mention that she actually had read the measurements. She now used it as a footstool and a talking point for visitors to her room.

But they never invited Jack to watch TV with them, and he never asked. They must have been to the pub together once or twice, surely? But at the weekends, she and Alexa often had some sort of social commitment with one of their university friends. Maybe they should ask Jack to the pub more often, she thought, guiltily.

It was really heating up in the attic now. The April sun was beating down on the slate roof and making the whole place feel like a dusty greenhouse, or a zealous garden shed with a space heater. Ellen felt dopey and stupid; her eyes heavy, as if drooping down her face because of the heat. But besides the occasional gurgle of someone’s stomach, or the sound of a siren from New Cross Road in the distance, all was quiet again.

Ellen sniffed and then felt a rush of hot shame; she could smell herself ripening in the heat. She thought back to her last shower and noted, with chagrin, that it had been on Thursday morning. Standing under the trickle of their shower would feel like the ultimate luxury right now. Or a bath! Lying back in the tub and closing her eyes while she washed off all the dirt and indignity of last night. She shuffled on her bum until she was a few inches outside the circle, hoping that none of the others were offended by her personal musk.