Then Drunk Mike finished work and stuck his head around the door – he’d been invited to a party (invitations made it something of a thing, I thought) but he still looked surprised to find us there in the drizzle. He sat down on a bench and it promptly sank into the wet ground. Eva had come and had some cider but she was going to her mum’s that evening so she couldn’t stay long, she said, looking longingly at the table of free drinks. Compared to the last girl who lived in my flat, she hadn’t heard from me, she said, as I practically fainted with relief, wondering if my toe tendons would ever recover. The idea that your neighbours must hate you is perhaps more common among tenants. Then Craig arrived with a gift bag of Prosecco and I thought maybe that’s how it’s supposed to be.