Sighing to myself, I looked around the shop, wondering if there was anything I could do to make myself useful while he was out. Grabbing the sweeping brush, I gave the floor a half-hearted clean and was just about to throw the brush back into the cupboard when I heard opening strains of 'Paint it Black' from the old radio in the corner of the shop. Cranking it up, I danced around the shop with the broom, spinning as I sang the familiar words with the alien concept. Why would anybody want to paint things black? I want colour and sparkle and glitter. Although I quite like black nail varnish. Maybe I've missed the point of the song somewhere?

Lost in my thoughts, spinning with my broom, I failed to see the wet footprints in front of the counter, presumably from the previous customer. Skidding, I lose my balance, flailing, and crash back heavily into the counter, my arm shooting out to grab the edge and keep me from falling. I hear a smash as something is knocked onto the floor. Guiltily, I scoot round the counter to assess the damage, rubbing my bruised arm and glancing around the shop to check no-one had walked in and caught the somewhat ungainly end to my dance. Shit, it's Howard's favourite mug I've smashed. How am I going to explain this one?

Picking up the pieces, I place them gently on the counter, wondering if there's any way I can fix it before he gets back. A second glance tells me it's a lost cause. Even Naboo would probably struggle to fix it, if he were here. Which he isn't. He's at a shaman, er, some shaman thing. I've forgotten what. I wasn't really listening when he told me; I was contemplating putting some pink streaks in my hair at the time. Then I realised they would clash horribly with my favourite red satin shirt, and I'm pretty sure Howard likes that shirt, so that wouldn't do at all. And then I looked back at Naboo and he'd finished speaking and was heading out so, yeah, I'm not quite sure where he is. Thankfully I know where I can buy another mug from, so at least I can replace it. Although why anyone would want a brown checkedmug is beyond me. Still, I don't want to give Howard any more reasons to be mad at me than he has already. I can't believe how clumsy I've been. At times like this, I'm not surprised he hates me.

At that moment, Howard stormed back into the shop with a face like thunder. And he hasn't even seen the broken mug yet!

"Thanks, Vince. Thanks a lot! Since I missed my appointment at the bank, I now can't get another one for 2 weeks, which is going to be far too late, you selfish little…"

"Sorry! Jeez, it's only a bank appointment. It's not like you missed a sale at Top Shop." Sometimes my mouth engages before my brain. I can't help it. He used to find it amusing. Now he doesn't. I try again.

"Anyway, too late for what?"

"Too late for me to put down a deposit on the flat I viewed at the weekend. They agreed to hold it for me if I could get the money agreed by today. Thanks to you I'm now stuck in this madhouse..."

He was going to leave? Move out? I knew he hated me, but didn't think things were that bad. I don't want him to go.

"Oh, that's just great! My favourite mug? I leave you alone for 15 minutes and you manage to smash it? That is unbelievable."

"I'm sorry, it was an accident. I'm going to get you a new one. I'm going now. I was just waiting for you to get back. I'm so sorry…"

I dash past him, not even bothering to grab a coat, despite the freezing temperatures outside, desperate to get out of the shop and try to do something to put things right. Flinging the door open, I set off at a run, my boot catching an icy patch of pavement, sending me hurtling towards the ground. My head hits the door, which has swung shut behind me, as a sharp, stabbing pain shoots through my ankle, causing me to scream. I suddenly remember why I hardly ever wear this particular pair of boots. They have no grip! Cursing to myself, I sit forward, just in time, as the shop door swings open behind me. I look up to see Howard, anger subsided, face now etched with concern.

"You ok? It's probably not the best weather for running outside, little man, especially wearing those boots," he adds, with a smile.

Of course it's not the best weather to be running. Any idiot would know that. Any idiot but me, it would appear.

"I'm fine, I don't need your concern, now leave me alone and I'll be back with your precious mug soon," I snap, more angry at myself and my stupidity than at him.

Grabbing the wall, I pull myself up, hissing in pain and clutching my ankle as I lower myself back down to the doorstep. For a second I sit there, trembling as the cold wind cuts through my thin shirt, unsure what to do. Suddenly an arm is round my waist and he gently pulls me up. I lean heavily on him, breathing in his aftershave, the comforting scent of a home I've not had for far too long. A home I will lose completely when he moves out. My eyes fill with tears and I bite my lip, trying to choke them back. I don't want him to see me crying, not like he cares anyway, but I still don't want to give him the satisfaction. I set my jaw defiantly and we slowly hobble through the shop and upstairs in complete silence, both of us seemingly knowing there is no more to say.