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My mother is one of those tenants. We moved here after Dad left. Mum couldn’t afford the house, and any money she got when Dad generously gave her some of the equity after my childhood home sold was flittered away quickly. I try to keep the space tidy, but sometimes it’s an impossible task. My mother is a whirlwind when she’s on a spiral, and it’s exhausting to try to keep on top of everything myself.

I’m suddenly self-conscious about Joseph seeing my street. His home in town is probably rented, but it’s a million times better than mine.

We head towards my house in silence. I bite the skin on my little finger as he drives. It doesn’t take long before he pulls his car onto my street. I direct him towards my house, trying not to compare my home to some of the nicer ones on the street. He parks his car outside.

“Come on,” he says.

I get out of the car with him. I stop to collect my bag from the back of the car, and he grabs something from the boot. We walk in the direction of my front door.

“Are you going to tell me what your plan is?” I ask. I feel slightly dumbstruck at the realisation that I have no idea what he’s thinking right now.

“You said the guy is picking up some camping stuff?”

“Yeah.”

“Go get it,” he suggests.

I unlock the front door, and he stays outside. I wander through the house, wondering where the camping items are stored, trying to rack my brain as to whether I’ve seen them before when trying to clean up.

I head for the little cupboard under the staircase, the one I know is typically filled with junk items. I rummage around for a few minutes, moving all the other junk that’s been thrown in here. It takes a while to find what I’m looking for. A tent. A rucksack. A few metal plates, bowls, and cups. Lord knows why these are here, as my mother and Duncan have never been camping. I assume it was from a plan they had to go away, ruined by an epic fight and a bottle of cheap vodka.

I gather the items and carry them to the front door. Joseph is on his knees in front of the door, fiddling around with the locking mechanism. He stands up, dusting off his trousers, and hands me a set of keys.

“You changed the lock?” There’s bewilderment in my tone.

“Do you want me to do the back door as well?” he asks.

“Is that a problem?”

“No, I got two barrels. It won’t take me long. Why don’t you find a place in the garden to stash the camping kit? Then he can collect it from the garden, and he won’t be able to get in.”

I nod silently and let him go inside, then shove the camping items behind a pile of junk in the garden. I leave it visible enough that Duncan will be able to see, but unlikely to be taken by anybody. There aren’t a lot of strangers who walk down the road, and the people who live in houses on the street tend not to pick up crap from other people’s front gardens.

It takes me a second to realise that I’m crying. Fat, wet tears roll down my cheeks. I’m sure they’ll ruin my heavy mascara and eyeliner, but I’m too overwhelmed to get them to stop. I force myself to take a deep breath and swipe the wetness away, wiping the smears onto my dark jeans. I lean against the wall and stare out onto the street, focusing on the trees, the movement of the branches, and the leaves in the wind—anything but the surge of emotion within me.

Joseph is quickly out of the house, and I’m grateful I managed to calm myself down before he walked back out to join me.

“I don’t know what to tell my mother,” I admit.

“It’s a council home, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Tell your mother you got home and found the lock was damaged, like somebody had tried the door, and you arranged for the council to come out and replace the locks. You’ll probably need to let the council know they’ve been changed. Then give your mother an excuse about why his stuff is outside. Say you’re staying with a friend or something,” he suggests.

“Thank you,” I murmur.

“You’re welcome. Here are the new keys for the back door. You can lock up and the house will be secure. Do you need anything else?”

I shake my head. “You’ve already done far too much.”

“I haven’t really done anything.”

He sounds so modest and nonchalant, like he hasn’t just given me a gift, one I could never calculate the value of. I don’t know if he understands what he’s really done. Replacing the locks seems like a simple job, but I would never have thought about it myself, nor had the knowledge on how to do it.

“I don’t know how to repay you.”

“You don’t need to. If something like this comes up again, I hope you’ll talk to me about it. You don’t have to do everything alone, Dee.”