‘But I’m a single mother,’ she’d said. ‘And, worse, I don’t do flirting. I wouldn’t know how to flirt with someone if Louisa stood behind them holding up placards. And the only men I’ve met in two years have either been frightened off by Thom or after one thing.’

‘Oh, not –’ my mother began.

‘Free accounting advice.’

Suddenly, looking at her from the outside, I’d felt a sudden sympathy. She was right: I had been handed, against the odds, all the advantages – a home of my own, a future free of any responsibilities – and the only thing stopping me embracing them was myself. The fact that she wasn’t eaten up with bitterness over our respective lots was pretty impressive. I hugged her before I left. She was a little shocked, then momentarily suspicious, patted her upper back to check for KICK ME signs, then finally hugged me back.

‘Come and stay,’ I said. ‘Really. Come and stay. I’ll take you dancing at this club I know. Mum can mind Thom.’

My sister laughed, and closed the door of the car as I started it. ‘Yeah. You dancing? Like that’s going to happen.’ She was still laughing as I drove away.

Six days later I returned home after a late shift to a nightclub of my own. As I came up the stairs of my block, instead of the usual silence, I could hear the distant sound of laughter, the irregular thump of music. I hesitated for a moment outside my front door, thinking that in my exhausted state I must be mistaken, then unlocked it.

The smell of weed hit me first, so strong I almost reflexively held my breath rather than inhale. I walked slowly to the living room, opened the door and stood there, not quite able to believe at first the scene that confronted me. In the dimly lit room, Lily was lying along my sofa, her short skirt rucked up somewhere just below her bottom, a badly rolled joint midway to her mouth. Two young men were sprawled against the sofa, islands amid a sea of alcoholic detritus, empty crisps packets and polystyrene takeaway cartons. Also seated on the floor were two girls of Lily’s age; one, her hair pulled back tightly into a ponytail, looked at me with her eyebrows raised, as if to question what I was doing there. Music thumped from the sound system. The number of beer cans and overflowing ashtrays told of a long night.

‘Oh,’ Lily said, exaggeratedly. ‘Hi-i-i.’

‘What are you doing?’

‘Yeah. We were out, and we sort of missed the late bus, so I thought it would be okay if we crashed here. You don’t mind, do you?’

I was so stunned I could barely speak. ‘Yes,’ I said tightly. ‘Actually, I do mind.’

‘Uh-oh.’ She began to cackle.

I dropped my bag with a thump at my feet. I gazed around me at the municipal rubbish dump that had once passed as my living room. ‘Party’s over. I’ll give you five minutes to clear up your mess, and go.’

‘Oh, God. I knew it. You’re going to be boring about it, aren’t you? Ugh. I knew it.’ She threw herself back on the sofa melodramatically. Her voice was slurred, her actions thickened with – what? Drugs? I waited. For one brief, tense moment, the two men looked steadily at me and I could see they were assessing whether to get up or simply to sit there.

One of the girls sucked her teeth audibly.

‘Four minutes,’ I said slowly. ‘I’m counting.’

Perhaps my righteous anger gave me some authority. Perhaps they were actually less brave than they appeared. One by one they clambered to their feet and sloped past me to the open front door. As the last of the boys left, he ostentatiously lifted his hand and dropped a can on the hall floor so that beer sprayed up the wall and over the carpet. I kicked the door shut behind them and picked it up. By the time I got to Lily, I was shaking with anger. ‘What the hell do you think you’re playing at?’

‘Jesus. It was just a few friends, okay?’

‘This is not your flat, Lily. It is not your place to bring people back as you see fit …’ A sudden flashback: that strange sense of dislocation when I had returned home a week ago. ‘Oh, my God. You’ve done this before, haven’t you? Last week. You had people home and then left before I got back.’

Lily climbed unsteadily to her feet. She pulled down her skirt and ran her hand through her hair, tugging at the tangles. Her eyeliner was smudged, and she had what could have been a bruise, or perhaps a hickey, on her neck. ‘God. Why do you have to make such a big deal out of everything? They were just people, okay?’

‘In my home.’

‘Well, it’s hardly a home, is it? It’s got no furniture, and nothing personal. You haven’t even got pictures on your walls. It’s like … a garage. A garage without a car. I’ve actually seen homelier petrol stations.’

‘What I do with my home is none of your business.’

She let out a small belch and fanned the air in front of her mouth. ‘Ugh. Kebab breath.’ She padded to the kitchen where she opened three cupboards until she found a glass. She filled it and gulped down the water. ‘And you haven’t even got a proper television. I didn’t know people still had eighteen-inch televisions.’

I began to pick up the cans, shoving them into a plastic bag. ‘So who were they?’

‘I don’t know. Just some people.’

‘You don’t know?’

‘Friends.’ She sounded irritated. ‘People I know from clubbing.’