It’s dumb. She knows it’s dumb, but all she wants at the moment is some bloody tea. Back home, when she lived on her own, she hadn’t needed to worry about whether or not there was food in the caravan because she hadn’t moved into from somewhere else. She had always been there; it was just that everyone else left.

On top of that, Steve is coming, and she has nothing to offer him. He probably isn’t expecting anything, but that doesn’t mean she shouldn’t still have something besides a kettle of hot water. It’s too late, though, she hears the knock on the door and picks her way over flat packed boxes to get there.

“Hi,” she says when she opens the door. Steve is there and he has a plant. With one hand, she pushes her hair back from her face, then tugs an elastic off her wrist so she can pull it back into a quick ponytail. “It’s a fucking mess in here.”