‘You’ve got a job. You’re earning your own money, making friends, living by yourself, building this new life, piece by piece. I know it’s harder than I can even imagine, learning, adding, perfecting each piece, but one day you’ll realise you’ve climbed to the top of the mountain and there’s nowhere else to go but jump off and fly.’

More tears creep off the end of my nose on to the envelope.

‘That’s the problem,’ I say, smearing them into the paper with my thumb. ‘I’m stacking supermarket shelves. Hanging clothes that no one wants. Showing people where the bog roll is.’

‘Running the warehouse is a few steps up from refilling the shelves, isn’t it?’ My hand goes slack as she squeezes my arm. ‘Remember, it’s one step at a time. Before you know it, you’ll have taken ten, then twenty…’

‘But they want me to move to day shifts,’ I say, sniffing. ‘Take up a management position, of all things. They need more people who can keep track of the numbers. I’m supposed to be happy about it. More money, responsibility … someone who wants to work nights, they said…’

‘Well, who does?’ She takes her hand away.

‘I don’t mind, do I? It’s quiet.’

‘Your branch is the one by Piccadilly, is it? Right by the roundabout?’

‘Circus,’ I say. ‘The one at Piccadilly Circus.’

She laughs. I can’t help but smile a bit too. Imagine if 180Warchester changed all of its roundabouts to circuses. The whole place would be a big top.

‘It must be a right circus at 2.00 am,’ she says, crunching into another polo. ‘You’d be better off in the daytime, surely?’

I shake my head as Julie waves the tube at me again.

‘Only if I cared about sleeping at night. It’s alright, honestly. There are loads of offices open all night around there. In fact there are more offices than bars—’

‘You should care about sleeping,’ she interrupts. ‘It’s important. You can’t lead a healthy life if you don’t eat and sleep properly.’

‘I sleep fine. Who cares if it’s not at night?’

We scowl at each other. The string-vest girls crowd around something on the table.

‘You’re not eating much though, are you?’

I look at the floor again. ‘I eat plenty. I should never have told you about—’

‘You need to take care of yourself,’ she interrupts before I have to say it out loud. ‘No one else can do that for you. It’s a step on the road, like any other step. But you have to take it if you want to keep moving forward.’

One of the string-vest girls jumps as I kick out under the table, hitting her chair leg.