‘Well, I am.’ I have to temper my tone as I resist the urge to snap the words at Mags. I’m not sure I buy into all this ‘vibe’ thing that Mags has going on, and now I’m so impatient to get my CV over for the job that I don’t have time to pretend I do. And Somerville isn’t that far. Half an hour maybe, if I jump on the train with my pushbike. ‘Come on, Mags, this is perfect. And it says the money is “competitive”, just think what we could do in here.’ Mags could probably get her dad to pay for redecorating, but I don’t want to remind her of that, not now. ‘We could get one of those massive, squashy sofas, and get rid of this old thing.’ I toe the stuffing that leaks out from the bottom of the couch, like some sort of grim, grey lava.

‘Hmmm.’ Mags gets slowly to her feet, and disappears into her room, emerging five minutes later with the battered Mac.

‘Thank you, you’re amazing.’ I grab the machine, giving Mags a huge smile that makes her cheeks flush pink. ‘Right, here goes.’

‘Are you really sure?’ Mags blurts out, one hand raised as if to take the laptop back from me. ‘I mean, think about it, Em, it’s really just a glorified wife. That’s all this guy wants. You’ll be doing all the cooking and cleaning, with none of the benefits.’

‘I’m pretty sure I’ll be OK without having sex with him,’ I say, raising an eyebrow as I turn away and place the laptop out of reach. ‘And anyway, he might already have a wife, the advert doesn’t say.’

‘I’m just saying, that’s all…’ Mags gestures to the flat around us, to the clutter that sits in piles in the corners, ‘it’s not like housework is your favourite thing to do, let’s be honest. Like I said, you’ll just be a wife – but doing all the shit bits but without getting any of the good stuff. And Somerville is far, you’d spend an hour every day commuting there and back. You’ll be exhausted.’

I open up my Hotmail account, noticing a message from the recruitment company. A quick read tells me they have called and left a message, and they are awaiting my response to a temp job they have. I look over at Mags, who is watching me closely, and there is a stutter in my chest. Maybe she missed their call. I open up a new email and attach my CV, blocking out Mags as I hit send on the email. ‘There, I’ve done it. We’ll just have to wait and see now – if it’s meant to be, then it’s meant to be.’