I realized this not long after I moved into the flat. I had answered Mags’s Gumtree advert, taking the flat without even looking at it in my desperation to get away from Harry before he carried through the threats he hurled at me daily, and when after the third month of living there I had run out of money and couldn’t pay the rent, Mags had waved me away and said not to worry.

‘I think I need to look for a job though.’ I worked in IT before everything went so horribly wrong with Harry, but now I think I’d take any job, just to get back on my feet. ‘I don’t want to sponge off you forever, I have to be able to take care of myself,’ I say again gently, as Mags takes my hand and leads me through to the sitting room. She pulls me down next to her on the grubby couch, an overflowing ashtray on the ring-stained coffee table in front of three dirty mugs – one with a layer of mould sitting on the surface – and once again I have to resist the urge to sigh.

‘Listen. You don’t, Em, not if you don’t want to.’ Mags looks at me earnestly as she puts a fresh joint to her mouth, inhaling sharply as she lights it. ‘We can manage here, just the two of us. I like it being just the two of us.’

‘I do, too, I promise,’ I say, wanting to cross my fingers. ‘You’ve been so brilliant, Mags.’ I slide my phone out of my pocket. ‘Help me look for something suitable? You’ve always got such a good vibe about things; you’ll know if something feels wrong.’

Ego massaged; Mags nods her head slowly. ‘Yeah. You’re right. I got a good vibe about you, didn’t I?’ She nudges me and laughs. ‘And this place. I suppose… if you get a job, then we can maybe do something in here? Decorate, maybe. Get some fancy cushions or something.’

I paste a smile onto my face, but my heart sinks a little. I want to get a job so I can move on – much as I am grateful to Mags (and I am, God only knows what would have happened to me if Mags hadn’t let me move in), this place is stifling, and Mags, although she means well, is more than a little suffocating. ‘So, let’s see…’ I pull up Safari on my phone and type in the name of a local job search site. ‘Bar staff?’

‘Ugh, no,’ Mags shakes her head, ‘coming home stinking of booze every night?’ Despite smoking an immense amount of weed, Mags is completely teetotal. ‘And what about dealing with pissed-up losers every night? You had enough of that with Harry, didn’t you?’