Freddie looked around the spartan kitchen, the pictureless walls. ‘What’s your flatmate called again?’

‘Matt.’

‘So, isn’t Matt here much?’

‘No. I barely see him. It’s a bit weird. And I don’t have Claudine, now either.’

‘Oh no, what happened?’ Freddie asked: ‘She’s not sick?’

‘Oh, she’s fine, it’s just I signed the tenancy here without really thinking about how it’s not good to keep a cat in a flat, and it turns out that Matt’s allergic to cats anyway, so David’s looking after her. I really miss her though. God, I’m never happy, am I? The last house was too crowded and grotty, this one’s too quiet and clean. I can’t afford to keep a cat; I miss my cat.’ She grimaced and made a little ‘boo hoo’ gesture with her fists close to her eyes.

‘I still don’t know why you don’t you just move in with me,’ Freddie said. ‘Tyler’s contract will be up soon.’ Tyler was Freddie’s Christian lodger. Their relationship was so polite it was painful, and Freddie was counting the days until he left to go back to Canada.

Jenny sighed. ‘I signed a year’s tenancy though.’

‘Well, I can lend you the money to get out of that, just—’

‘No, Fred. You can’t lend me any more money. I won’t take it, and then you’ll just get angry, and you’re terrifying when you’re angry. You’re like the Hulk. But ginger.’ She passed him a beer. ‘Take this. It’s my way of controlling you.’

‘It just seems stupid.’ Freddie was serious. ‘You’re living somewhere you don’t like, and I’m living with someone I don’t like. It doesn’t make any sense.’

‘You’re getting pinker,’ she said soberly. ‘Your clothes are starting to rip.’

‘Stop it, I’m serious.’

‘Well, so am I. Fred, it’s about time I grew up. I can’t live like a student or sponge off my best friend. It’s not right. It-it isn’t the way I want to live my life. That’s all.’ She took a sip of beer in a decided way. ‘Anyway, if I lived with you, you’d see what a slut I am. Men – twenty-four hours a day. It’d sicken you if you had to live with that. I almost sicken myself.’

‘Speaking of men,’ Freddie said, ‘have you seen anything of David lately? Apart from cat-related meetings, I mean.’

She hesitated.

Freddie watched the play of expression on her face, sincerity battling brittle sarcasm.

‘We’ve been to the cinema a few times,’ she said shortly.

‘What, like a date?’ Freddie’s tone was teasing.

‘No.’ Jenny blushed. ‘We just like the same movies, that’s all.’

‘What did you go and see with him?’ Freddie asked.

‘The new Ryan Gosling one?’

‘OK, let me tell you something– there’s no way he’d voluntarily watch a Ryan Gosling movie if he wasn’t properly into you!’ Freddie said.

‘You like Ryan Gosling though! We went to see La La Land together,’ Jenny said.

‘No. I fancy Ryan Gosling. I suffered through La La Land. There’s a difference,’ Freddie told her. ‘OK, so cinema? Anything else?’

Jenny went to the kitchen to get another beer. ‘A couple of meals out!’ she called back.

‘Ha! You see? Oh, get me another one too. No, wait, actually no. Calories.’

She came back into the living room looking pensive. ‘But it’s not, you know, anything…’

‘Why not? Why isn’t it anything?’

‘He’s nice…’ Jenny drifted to the table, fiddled with a stack of Matt’s cycling magazines.

‘Look, just sit down. I’m not going to give up, so you might as well be comfortable.’ Freddie patted the sofa seat next to him. ‘Talk to me.’

‘He’s solid. He’s a grown-up. He’s been through a lot – you know, the stroke, his dad dying, his mum getting so ill. But even though he has so many of his own problems to deal with he always makes room for me. Drops me a text most mornings to check in, wants to hear about the course. All that. It’s…’ She shook her head, and her smile was puzzled. ‘I don’t know what to make of it.’

‘What’s that mean?’ Freddie frowned. ‘I mean, is he weird about it or…?’

‘No. No, I don’t think so, but then I wouldn’t know because I’ve never met anyone who’s wanted to look after me. Apart from you. That sounds really self-pitying, I know, but it’s true. It’s…. a novelty.’

‘Novelty?’

‘No, not a novelty – that was the wrong word, because it’s not like I’m going to get sick of it, it’s more…’ She made a vague gesture. ‘Anyway, he’ll probably get bored of me soon. I’d get bored of me soon.’

‘Well that’s just stupid,’ Freddie said firmly. ‘What’s wrong with being taken care of, being kept safe? And what happened to this “Putting Yourself First” thing?’

‘Oh, you read that?’

‘Of course I did, and it was great to read. I didn’t know Maraid asked for everything. That’s fucked up.’

‘Well, I didn’t want to…’

‘I mean, everything though? She seemed all right at the funeral. A bit—’

‘Terrifying?’

‘No. Which was surprising after everything you’ve told me about her. More… quiet. Self-contained.’

‘That’s what they say about serial killers: “Nice man, kept himself to himself”.’ She sat down with a sigh. ‘She knows how to do things on the sly. She’s clever that way.’

‘Are you not worried she’ll read your blog? Come gunning for you?’

‘Oh God, no. No.’ Her face was just slightly disfigured by a sneer. ‘Maraid doesn’t read.’

‘Anyway, it was good to read the whole “Put Yourself First” thing, it really was, but now you’re talking like that’s just something you wrote, not something you really believe.’

Jenny said hesitantly: ‘I… do believe it. I mean, I did when I wrote that piece. I felt very strongly about it. But then, you know, all your insecurities come back, and you think: “Oh, he just feels sorry for me”.’

‘So you’re doing exactly what you said you weren’t doing: you’re telling your blog audience to believe in themselves and value themselves and all that, but you’re not following your own advice. Why not invite him round for a beer now?’

Jenny looked alarmed. ‘Now? He lives miles away! That will just make me seem weird.’

‘OK then, how about this: invite him over for a meal? No cinema, or restaurant. Nothing to distract you from the agonising terror of Being Alone With Someone You Like.’ He smiled.

‘Well, when you put it like that.’ Jenny glanced around the room. ‘Here though? It’s a bit… grim. Bare.’

‘Well, put some pictures up! Make the place your own! I’ll help you with that. Do what you want to feel like it’s your place and then invite him round.’

‘Right, and I’ll wear a cocktail dress, and cook a roast and when I take off my glasses and take my hair down he’ll say “But Miss Holloway… you’re… you’re beautiful!”’

‘You’re not going to get out of this by being snarky.’ Freddie took both her hands and looked very seriously into her eyes. ‘Do you like him?’ She nodded, avoiding his gaze. ‘Then show that you like him! He’s really nice!’

She nodded again, smiled. ‘I know.’

‘And he really likes you. Call him! Set it up.’

She frowned. ‘No. I’ll-I’ll tell you what I’ll do. I’ll meet him for a coffee some time. I need to give him some information on a carers’ group that might be—’

‘“You are important… you don’t have to buy love by being useful or kind”,’ Freddie quoted, closing his eyes. ‘Look, I’ll be your chaperone if you want. He really wouldn’t thank me for it, but if it’ll make you invite him, so be it.’

‘Oh God, Fred this is all so silly. I shouldn’t need you to hold my hand. I sort of do though. Do you mind?’

‘Holding your hand? Well, I’m not going to lie, you could do with a manicure—’

She punched him lightly. ‘No! I mean being here with David.’

‘Of course I don’t mind. But put up some pictures, please? It looks like a rehab clinic or something. And by the way, where is the TV?’

‘Um…’

‘Jesus Jen, you didn’t—’

She nodded shamefaced ‘I caved. Kathleen called and banged on and on about how Maraid needed the TV and why was I so selfish and…’ She shrugged.

‘So the blog post was a lie then?’

‘No, when I posted it I was really sure of myself, but then…’

‘They got to you?’

‘Mm.’

Freddie shook his head. ‘You can’t let people walk all over you, Jen.’

‘I know,’ she muttered. ‘I just… I have a bit of an Achilles heel when it comes to family.’ She looked up. ‘Is that the right phrase? Achilles heel?’

‘You know it’s the right phrase. Don’t make out you’re this ignoramus,’ Freddie said testily. ‘Don’t… undervalue yourself like that.’ He took her hand. ‘For Christ’s sake Jen, if you could just believe in yourself more, just be a bit more like you are in the blog… if you managed that you’d be unstoppable.’

‘You think?’

‘I know. In the meantime, we’ll start with making this place look like you actually live here. Then, when you invite David over, he won’t think he’s in a halfway house for ex cycling junkies.’ He sneered at a copy of Cycling World. ‘Look at this – “You need 600mm ERD, built 32x2 onto a hub with flanges of 60mm from the hub centreline”. It’s like Sanskrit.’

And so they spent the next hour going through Jenny’s belongings, consisting of holiday photographs, a few mass-produced prints – the obligatory Klimt, Hokusai’s Wave.

‘Wouldn’t it be nice to have a photo of your mum?’ Freddie asked gently.

‘There aren’t any. Marc trashed them all. He threw them all out when we left. The only one I have is this one.’ Young Sal sitting on a striped towel, squinting into the sun. Jenny – about six years old – squatted next to her, her small face punctured, almost obliterated.

‘What happened? How come it’s got a hole in it?’ Freddie asked.

‘The night, she, you know. She pushed me into it, and my head must have caught it. It smashed, and then she trod on it.’

‘Jesus, Jen,’ Freddie said softly. ‘She hit you?’

‘No. Not hit. More of a sideswipe. She didn’t know what she was doing.’ Jenny’s voice was low, her face averted. ‘That’s where the glass went through it.’ When she touched the edge of the photo, her fingers made it tremble. She smiled. ‘I remember that day. I fell off a donkey and cried so much that Mum bought me a stick of candyfloss to cheer me up, and so did Kathleen and her boyfriend and a few other people, and I ended up being sick on the bus home.’ One finger gently caressed her own younger face.

‘I feel awful now,’ Freddie said. ‘I didn’t know she… hit you. I saw the bruise, too, and I didn’t even…’ He shook his head at himself. ‘If I’d known that she’d hit you, there’s no way I’d have told you to get it framed.’

‘No – you know what? I’m glad you did.’ She raised her head. ‘It’s important to remember the good times, isn’t it? She wasn’t always like that. She…’ She looked down at her hands, swallowed hard. I should get it framed again. It’s all I have left of her, isn’t it?’

‘I bet I can get it repaired.’ Freddie pocketed the picture. ‘Let me see if I can. And I’ll get it framed too. ‘You’re right. It’s… it’s important to remember things, good things. It’s your history.’

‘It is.’ She nodded.

‘Does David know about – any of that stuff? The refuge? Marc?’ Freddie asked gently.

‘No. God, no!’ She shook her head vehemently. ‘I don’t want him to either. I don’t want anyone to feel sorry for me.’

Freddie closed his eyes and quoted: ‘“You deserve a space in the world. You can come first”.’ He took her hand. ‘Does he even know about the blog?’ Again, she shook her head. ‘Why not?’

‘It’s… I don’t know why not. It’s complicated. I… Don’t tell him, Fred?’

‘No, of course I won’t, but, Jen, why not? It’s something to be proud of. Your whole history is something to be proud of! You survived when lots of other people wouldn’t have. I sure as hell wouldn’t have. David seems lovely, so maybe try to… let him in more. Trust him. What you wrote a few months ago? About making your own family? You were right about that.’

‘You think?’

‘I know. You know it too. You’re so... loved, Jen. You are!’