At family gatherings Vik is always immaculately groomed: blazer, brogues, wavy hair-sprayed coiffure. Anuk has only ever seen Vik's London flat once before when Vik had cleaned it.
It is a hell of filth. Vik has a medical condition, and there are used bandages everywhere. The kitchen shelves are coated with dried ketchup. The fridge has mould inside. Outside pubic hairs are glued to marmalade stains. Eight full garbage bags were decaying in the front hall.
Vik offered Anuk the floor to sleep on. It was sticky and crunchy at the same time. Vikram's cats sniffed Anuk's face and padded up and down him. In the middle of the night he was awakened by a terrible smell. The cats had torn open the garbage bags and coated Anuk in orange peel and discarded curry. He fled to the bathroom to wash. It was in such a nightmarish condition he couldn't use it. He spent the rest of the night outside on the freezing balcony.
Vikram emerged in the morning, cheerful and immaculate.
Anuk can't think straight. The carriage is swimming. To turn up at any University in this state will do him more harm than good.
He decides to get off at Waterloo.