Fiona stood outside Grove Road. It was an impressive four-storey Georgian Townhouse. She had to consciously stop her jaw from hanging open. She would not have been surprised if Mrs Bennet had opened the door.

Outside the house, Derek rang the doorbell. The door was answered by a woman in her mid-40's, extremely well presented in a Sloane Square sort of way. Her sense of style seemed to have hit the pause button at Margo from the Good Life. Replete with a cigarette in a holder, which she liked to wave in the air to punctuate her conversation.

Fiona extended her hand to Jilly. "Hi, I am Fiona McDonald, the new tenant."

"Jilly," she pointed to herself. "you are not a man though are you darling?" Jilly looked at Derek.

"No, 100% female, no plans to change. There has been a mistake and I am happy to move my things tomorrow. I am so tired, I would just like somewhere to lie down for tonight. I will move my things out tomorrow."

"Honestly, it will be good for us. Far too much testosterone in there. As far as I am concerned you can stay. You poor darling, I cannot imagine the trauma of the day. Now, I want you to tell me all about it, however, I have to attend the Physic Garden in the Kings Road in 15 minutes' darling."

"Now here is your key, you are on the top floor," she waved her cigarette to indicate the vicinity, "and I have told the boys, that you are having the top floor bathroom and the big room at the top. Now, darling, they live like pigs. They think I will crack and bring in a cleaner, you see you mustn't give in, they must learn. Anyway, I have the basement and garden flat. If you need anything just bang on the door. If I am not entertaining, high or drunk you might get some sense."

Fiona was speechless. She watched as Jilly berated Derek and demanded paper and an envelope. Fiona watched as Jilly turned Derek around and scribbled a note on his back.

"Now darling, give this to Dick when you see him. He is the Welsh one with green eyes and a nice bottom."

Jilly thrust the key and note into Fiona's hand and flounced off in a trail of chiffon kaftans and golden sandals.

Fiona watched as Derek sprinted in the other direction of Grove Road. She looked at the vast house and knew that somehow life was not going to be quiet or easy.

Fiona held her breath as she entered the house. It looked like the aftermath of a crime scene. The hall was magnificent with an open staircase all the way to the fourth floor. The carpet was an indiscernible pattern which was now the colour of mud. Every room seemed to be painted some revolting colour, starting with the Hall, which was bright green. It was clear from the cavernous silence that none of her housemates were at home.

Fiona made the decision to take on the task of only cleaning the areas she would use. The front room resembled a squat. The kitchen was foul and her allocated bathroom had a layer of black and dark brown hair all over it. She was ready to call National Geographic, as she decided she was sharing a house with Yetis. She cleaned the kitchen and her bathroom. All in she unpacked in three hours flat. Exhausted, all she wanted to do was crawl into bed and let sleep take her.

Her bedroom was cavernous. She had been allocated the bedroom at the very top of the house. It was so large, her double bed resembled a cot. The room was airless. Try as she might she could not budge the sash window open. She cleaned the window with everything she had. However, there were no chemicals strong enough to penetrate decades of paint and filth.

After a few minutes of deep breathing, she settled down on her bed to gather her thoughts and create her mixtape. Fiona's planning was rudely interrupted by the raucous male noises emanating around the huge house. She was amazed she could hear anything over The River Detectives Saturday Night Sunday Morning album on at full tilt.

This morning at 9 am, she knew zero people in London. At 5 pm, she knew exactly five people in London.  In addition to the ones she had met, she was now living with five men. That would take the sum of London acquaintances to ten. Seven of whom were the wrong gender entirely.

Met was a strong word, more like spoken to five. Two of the five were the girls she met today on her course. She really hoped to see them again. There had been a talk of Fiona sharing her misery story over wine. One solitary day in London and she had told shiny, lovely, new people that she was a romantic disaster. Her new landlady Jilly made three women. 

Fiona needed to have no further male acquaintances. She thought about volunteering in a woman only charity. Perhaps taking up a part time job in a female bookshop. Anything where she wasn't exposed to any chance of romantic attachment. Not one.

The fourth person she 'met' was Derek. She was sure that she wouldn't be seeing him again due to the haste he ran off this afternoon.

That left the fifth. He was utterly the opposite of who she needed to be in her tight-knit circle. The absolutely, devastatingly handsome, roguishly tempting doctor that had hosted the orientation day. A well-buried part of her wanted to know more about him. The part of her that used to be alive. The actual her that remained, wanted him far away.

The noise of her new housemates interrupted her concentration on her mid-year mixtape. Mixtape making was her solace, her comfort blanket, and habit. It helped her sort out her feelings and emotions during periods of her life.

On each Annual or Bi-Annual mixtape inlay, Fiona would rate the year into good and bad. She would select side A for good and side B for bad, then collect a soundtrack to go with it. She peered inside her treasured mixtape box, noting they ranged from 1976 until the last additions of misery mixtapes. The creation of which was inspired by her recent heartbreak.

Fiona created the inlay of the cassette. Fiona wrote the lists carefully in her best handwriting, as she had been informed on many occasions that she had the handwriting of a serial killer.

1. Got engaged to beautiful boyfriend at Hogmanay in front of Edinburgh Castle

2. Moved into flat with fiancé

3. Got a full-time job as a midwife (after 2 years' graft)

4. Booked Wedding

5. Lost that last half a stone

6. Can fit in Ted Baker size 3 clothes (see number 5)

Her work on creating a Mixtape was methodical. A mix of new and rediscovered albums she was drawn to, during whatever period she was living in. She gathered the CDs in front of her to choose from.

Blur Parklife

The Who Quadrophenia

Paul Weller Wild Wood

Simple Minds Sparkle in the Rain

Aztec Camera Stray

Shara Nelson What Silence Knows

Massive Attack Blue Lines

The Stone Roses The Stone Roses

The La's The La's

Kate Bush The Red Shoes

She turned her attention to the bad list. She took a deep breath and began to carefully compose the list.

1. Moving away from Scotland

2. Finding fiancé in bed with nemesis (see 1)

3. Breaking off engagement and losing deposits on all sorts of wedding bookings (see 2 )

4. Being totally heartbroken and mostly unable to interact with anyone as a normal human being (See 1, 2 and 3)

Fiona was glad she had could label any emotion beyond devastation and anger. Happy she had committed her thoughts to the mixtape, she turned her focus to her new home. She regarded her efforts of transforming her accommodation into something habitable.

The first thing she did was place her trio of posters that hung in most of her bedrooms for the last few years;

Brad Pitt regarded her with his steel like gaze from the Legends of the Fall poster. He signalled his approval to her that she had done the right thing running away.

Flaming June by Fredric Leighton looked relaxed and arty. She gave Fiona hope that she too could wallow in the same arty gingerliness. Fiona would focus on going to galleries and feeding her empty soul on art, rather than filling herself with gin.

Mel Gibson in Braveheart charged out of the poster to tell her that she could conquer anything, as long as no one took her freedom. She felt invincible for a nanosecond.

Fiona saluted all three posters. They gave her hope that this stupid plan may work. The plan's inspiration? The event of finding her fiancé shagging a woman who resembled part horse and part washing board.

Her revelry was halted by the voices of her new housemates getting closer. They were laughing in unison at some rugby related story. She had a horrible feeling that she recognised one of the voices. She prayed that it belonged to some other American.

Fiona removed her headphones and cleared away her CDs so she wouldn't trip over them as she crept across the room and leant against the door to eavesdrop.

"I see Jilly the Filly has finally given up and sent in a cleaner for the kitchen lads. I said if we hung out long enough she would crack or send in Environmental Health." a familiar American voice said.

Fiona froze. The voice could not belong to....She needed more information. She attached herself to the inside of the door.

"No, I think it might be the new flatmate lads. We had a note from Jilly that someone was moving in, a Mr McDonald from the Hospital I think it said. It's difficult to read her handwriting. Any fellas who looked handy in environmental cleansing?" Fiona noted a different male voice.

"Oh my God no!" guffawed the American voice, "I don't think there were any guys on the course, just lots of hot fit women."

There was the confirmation Fiona didn't want. The hottest guy she had met in her life, David Williams, was her new housemate. She drove her forehead into the door, hoping it would drive out any lustful thoughts.

"Any, in particular, we should be looking out for around the house for the next few days?" the owner of the voice sounded very interested.

Fiona listened intently trying to distinguish the people lived in the house. Jilly had indicated that there were five men she was sharing with. Thus far, she had identified two. David and some welsh fellow.

"Well, there was a Portuguese Physiotherapist I saw a lot of. Hell, I have forgotten her name. Oh, bollocks, she knew mine cos she shouted it for two hours solidly this afternoon." David joked.

"Chosen early mate, boff in haste and repent at leisure Boston. You still have the two Paediatric Nurses on the opposite shifts and the Occupational Therapist all on the go. Even you will find four a juggling act." a different voice chipped in.

Both new men sounded Welsh. She wondered if she had moved in with a male voice choir. She counted off on her fingers. Two Welsh identified and Mr Hot. That left two more to identify in her new housemate bingo.

She hoped that they would wear name tags when she was eventually introduced. In her quasi-depressive state, she may just become one of those housemates that no one likes and never sees, apart from post and food in the cupboards.

She may be found, dead of a broken heart, by either Jilly or Derek, in six month's time. She was sure that a broken heart could be a cause of death. Right now, this very second she was in emotional intensive care with two failing organs. Her heart and her brain.

Fiona let out a long quiet sigh. The gnawing in her stomach had now gone beyond being ignored. She was incredibly hungry, she needed to make something to eat and soon. Fiona resolved to cook tea as soon as the voices outside her room settled down. She would sneak past them in true Ninja fashion. She would speedily make some toast and tea, then hang out in her room with a Bronte Novel.

It was still boiling hot in her room the afternoon sun was doing its worst through the large attic window. Due to the necessary emergency cleaning and the white heat of her room, Fiona was in a pair of old shorts and a vest. She looked and felt a total state. She weighed up either eating or washing. She settled for eating and then when her housemates had gone out, she would have a long bath.

Fiona stood away from the door and looked at her new place in the world. This room was not home. Neither was this grotty house. It was nothing like the carefully crafted flat she had left behind. That was supposed to be her forever home with Paul. She had scraped together every penny she had for that flat. She had taken on extra work and not gone to the pub for three whole months, so she could pay her share. Now, all she had left to show for all that work, was a box of cleaning equipment, some posters, her clothes, her music and her mixtapes.

That made her sad to her core, she slid down the door as the wave of emotion of being cheated on hit her again. She was Fiona McDonald Class A failure.

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