I showed them the room; dusty and tatty, with a beige carpet coming loose and watercolour peach walls, but room-sized, in a prime location, for one-sixth of her current rent, a rent she paid for the privilege of four or five hours’ sleep a night between a bar shift and interning. I did not tell her about some of the things the bed had seen over the last decade.

‘Have a think about it,’ I said, but of course she moved in. She had artistic ambition. She had no choice.

*

Nathan is the twerp Jonathan referred to. Twerp is unkind. He’s a sweet boy, but he’d never been up in Mary’s room before.

‘It’s your fault they’re up there,’ I said to Jonathan. ‘They think this is your bedroom.’

‘It is my bedroom!’ He held up the Postman Pat quilt as evidence.

‘We should discuss that.’

‘Just give me a week. I’m working on Julia.’

‘What is actually the problem?’ I picked up two empty cans and crumpled them noisily.

‘Oh, mate. It’s too complicated. I’d bore you stupid.’

I took the cans to the recycling box in the kitchen, then went up to my room, just across from Mary’s. To my horror, I could hear a man’s heavy gasping. The door was ajar and I shouted hello.

‘Come in!’ she called.

‘Are you sure?’

‘Come in!’

I went in, where I found her and Nathan sitting up against her headboard, fully clothed, giggling. Between them was one of those shiny chrome contraptions for filling balloons full of nitrous oxide.

‘I see,’ I said.

‘I stole it,’ said Mary. ‘By accident. From a party last night. I don’t remember putting it in my bag. Nathan’s been getting aggressive texts all day from the girl whose party it was, accusing him of stealing it. He didn’t know I had it. I didn’t know I had it until I opened my handbag. When it’s late, we’re going to sneak around there and try to put it back without them noticing. Reverse burgling.’

‘Perverse gurgling,’ said Nathan, and he fell over to the side and started laughing silently.

‘He’s just done a balloon,’ explained Mary.

I picked a pile of neatly folded washing off a wooden chair and sat down on it. ‘Was that the noise? I thought you were sex-strangling him.’

Nathan sat back up and raised his eyebrows at her.

‘Later,’ she said. ‘Do you want a balloon, Paul?’

‘No, thanks. I’m a traditional man. Whisky and heroin. I’m going to sit downstairs and have a beer. You know it’s not Jonathan’s bedroom, don’t you? He’s not paying any rent yet.’

‘Yeah, I know. Nathan doesn’t like the way he looks at him, though.’

‘Who does? Come down, will you?’ I asked. ‘I can’t cope with him tonight on my own.’