I follow him down the stairs, back into the vast sitting room. ‘Is it…’ I pause for a moment, not wanting to appear rude. ‘Is it just you living here? I mean… will I just be looking after you, or is there anyone else who might need me to do things?’

‘No, er… it’s just me.’ Rupert swallows, and rocks back on his heels a little. ‘I lost my wife just over a year ago.’ The words creak out, as though they are too big for his throat and he gives a tiny cough. ‘Hence the reason why things have gone to pot a bit.’

That explains why there aren’t any perfumes or fancy shampoo in the en suite. ‘I’m so sorry,’ I say, looking down. I hope I haven’t offended him – the more I’ve seen of this place, the more convinced I am that this could be just what I’m looking for. The perfect escape route from Mags’s weed-ridden flat, and back to standing on my own two feet again.

‘Look, Emily, I’m not going to beat about the bush.’ Rupert’s cheeks colour slightly, and my heart does another little flip. ‘If you want the job, I’d love for you to come and work for me, if the state of the place hasn’t put you off. We can even just do a trial period for a month or so, if that would work better for you?’

‘Oh, no,’ I exclaim, before putting my hand over my mouth, ‘I mean, yes, please. But don’t worry about a trial period… unless you want one, I mean. I’m quite happy to come and work for you.’ I stop talking before I make a complete idiot of myself. ‘Thank you.’

‘Brilliant.’ The stress melts away from Rupert’s face, his shoulders lowering, and I realize that he really was more nervous than me about the whole job interview scenario. ‘When could you start?’