Living in the squat with Jono is worse than camping. I’m in despair. I won’t be able to tolerate this level of discomfort much longer. If I don’t get a job soon I’ll ask Mum for the money to fly home. But I’m not sure she can afford it. She has a job at the Four Square supermarket in Queenstown. She works long hours but doesn’t have much to show for it. It’s a good thing my dad and my brother Sam bring in a bit of cash from strapping up bungee jumpers. But every penny they bring in gets spent on food and rent.

You promised me a good reference, but you can’t have kept your word. The agency haven’t offered me a single interview. The nights are drawing in. It’s October now. The squat is cold. We have no electricity. We go to the pub every evening to keep warm. And charge our phones. We make a pint of cider and a plate of chips each last all evening. When we return, we go straight to bed. Except it isn’t a bed. It’s a saggy mattress that Jono acquired from a friend who works at the tip. We dive into our sleeping bags fully dressed.

Tonight has been no different. I’m shivering as I pull my sleeping bag over my head. My mobile beeps. A text. I press the screen and it lights up so that I can see it. Mann and Mann Solicitors, 25 Newport Street, Esher. Hayley Manville Smith. Please visit our premises with proof of I.D. We have possession of a legal document we need to inform you of.

My heart races. What is this about? Am I about to be accused of something? Is it a class-action scam? I can’t guess. And I can’t sleep. The night is torture. The bare windows offer no protection from darkness or light. Moonlight burns into my eyes and spills across my face. An owl hoots. Jono is lying on his back snoring. I thought he was too young to snore. The cold drills through the sleeping bag and permeates my bones. And then somehow, despite all the discomfort, my eyes open and Jono is rousing from his sleeping bag, rubbing his eyes and groaning. I must have dropped off, in the end. Sleep came as suddenly and terminally as I imagine death. The miracle is that from such sudden nothingness, I am now awake.

‘Oh God, what time is it?’ Jono is asking.

I scowl and look at my watch. ‘Nine o’clock,’ I reply.

‘Shit. I promised Barry I’d be there at 7.30 a.m. We’ve got a big job to finish from yesterday.’