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you mean, “look after it”?’ I said, in case they meant, take nice long lovely baths here.
     
    Eck rubbed the back of his neck. ‘Well, you know. Do the hoovering. Scrubbing. Cleaning up mostly. We’re usually too busy.’
     
    Too busy? That wouldn’t be the student life I remembered then.
     
    ‘But we’d all chip in to pay your deposit so you could stay.’ He looked awkward again. ‘Will you have money coming in after that?’
     
    ‘Of course,’ I assured him.
     
    There was a silence. For the last time, just in case I’d got it wrong I said, ‘So you’re saying I can stay if I clean?’
     
    The boys glanced at each other, then Eck nodded. Oh great. So not only was I going to have to live in a germ sanctuary, I was going to have to clean it too.
     
    ‘Isn’t this a bit sexist?’ I said.
     
    ‘No,’ said Cal. ‘It’s poor-ist.’
     
    ‘Sorry,’ said Eck. ‘But we were trying to find a solution . . .’
     
    I looked for my positive side again. It was fleeing for the exit, but I grasped it manfully.
     
    ‘Absolutely,’ I said. ‘You’re on!’
     
    ‘Great,’ said Eck, looking relieved. ‘Cup of tea to celebrate? ’
     
    We looked at each other.
     
    ‘I’ll just go get my things, I think.’
     
    ‘Yeah,’ said Eck. ‘OK.’
     

Chapter Seven
     
    Of course, I didn’t know what to pack. Vogue hadn’t done an article on ‘Capsule Wardrobes for Your New Shit Life’. If I was thinking logically, Wellington boots, three hundred jumpers and a hazmat suit.
     
    I gazed at my wardrobe. It was arranged by colour so that shades segued into one another. I loved it. There was the raspberry Temperley silk dress I’d worn to Theo’s twenty-first, which ended up in the fountain. In fact I couldn’t have worn it more than once, but it had been a good, fun, dress and only about seven hundred quid, I seemed to recall. Christ. Maybe I could sell the dress? But I could see the heavy water stains the dry cleaner’s hadn’t been able to get out from here. Maybe not.
     
    Oh, and that lovely pale green chiffon. I’d loved it to bits till a famous WAG had worn the exact same one ten days later and I’d had to abandon it for ever. So sad. Oh, bollocks, I was packing it anyway.
     
    Gail eyed up my bags in the hall. She’d been fluttering around apologetically - but not apologetically enough to say, ‘Do you know what, Sophie, I’ve changed my mind and in fact why don’t we convert the basement into a crash pad for you and you stay there for six months and we’ll say that that was probably what Daddy meant in his will.’
     
    ‘It’s just clothes,’ I said, in case she thought I was stuffing oil paintings into the lining. ‘And I had to put them in the Louis Vuittons, there aren’t any other suitcases.’
     
    ‘Good luck,’ she said, smiling nervously. ‘I couldn’t wait to leave home. It was the most exciting day of my life.’
     
    I stared at her.
     
    ‘I realise this isn’t the same.’
     
    ‘It’s not the same at all,’ I said, miserably.
     
    ‘But your dad thought you could do it,’ said Gail. ‘And, you know . . . I reckon you’ll be stubborn enough to make a go of anything.’
     
    This is probably about the nicest thought Gail’s ever had about me.
     
    ‘Yeah, thanks,’ I said, a bit ungracefully, but I was really shocked. She moved towards me then, and I thought she might be about to give me a hug, but at the last minute something in both of us stopped it happening.
     
    We could probably both have done with it though.
     
    Now came the really hard part. I tiptoed downstairs and whispered her name.
     
    ‘Esperanza?’
     
    She came out of the kitchen, drying her hands and looking fearful.
     
    ‘Miss?’
     
    I twisted my hair awkwardly.
     
    ‘Esperanza, you know I’m leaving.’
     
    Her face gave nothing away. I couldn’t tell if she was pleased or sad. Probably best not to know. I wondered how I would have felt if Esperanza had left one day