After yet another long tedious day at the office, Jane turns the key of her front door to be greeted by the rank odour of stale cigarette smoke. The muffled sounds of the TV drift through the partly open door to her left. She closes the front door gently and makes her way to the kitchen at the back of the house. A scene of chaos comes into view; empty milk cartons, half eaten pieces of toast, an empty beer can in the sink with a fag butt squished into the top. The fridge door is open and the cat is eating something inside.

Leaving it to its own devices and still holding her heavy handbag she steels herself and makes her way to the living room. He’s had pizza for lunch, on her credit card, again…