I’d offered again and again to help, but this time it really was too late.

K had finally admitted to her affair with Terry and (unsurprisingly) her boyfriend J had thrown her out. The only place that she could go was her neglected, and now uninhabitable, old flat. It was completely infested by the pests that had already eaten their way through her extensive collection of clothes and hats, and had made a start on gnawing through the structure of the building.

This was not a job for a friend. It was time to call in the professionals: Rentokil.