Alfie

surrounded by all the strange off-season objects which had taken up residence in my absence.

I had assumed that first night that my Ben would come to me with snivelling apologies and I'd forgive him like all the other times I'd discovered his infidelity.

However, when I returned back to our flat to pick up more underwear, I found other Ben making a cup of coffee in the kitchen, entirely nude, but for a pair of my socks.

At that point, I decided I could probably do better.

So my couple of nights back at mum's became a few weeks.

Those few weeks became a few months.

Christmas came and we decondomed the tree, letting it take pride of place in the living room.

And when the festive period was over, mum wordlessly removed the baubles, disassembled the tree and shoved it up in the loft.

The ironing board also resumed its old folded position in the downstairs low.

I still share a room with the stationary bike and the winter coats though.

Through all of this, mum had not once brought up the fact that

I could not, in fact, stay living back in my childhood home forever.

Are you hoping to not have to put the tree in the attic after Christmas?

I asked her.

Mum sighed.

No, it's not that.

It's just she gestured vaguely at my entire body.

You don't seem happy, Elfie.

I asked if she thought turning out on the street would put a spring in my stub.

No, Mum sighed.