Ever since Jack’s run his own business, he usually wakes up to bad news.

It was a photo of rubbish bins outside one of our properties this morning. The bins weren’t the focus though. It was the mobility scooter next to them meant for Jack’s view. The scooter had arrived for a tenant yesterday – and the tenant had spent all day charging it using the communal hall socket. Our handyman/ex-serviceman/person-of-excellence saw, unplugged it and took a photo.

Another tenant is permanently aggressive. Jack served him an eviction notice but it’s taking months for it to go through. In the meantime, the tenant destroys property and scares people.

Then Jack gets to deal with us. Though we’re not as permanently aggressive as his tenant… he is back to living on a boat with three females. And we are naturally lazy. I spend a lot of time typing. Delph has been unschooling herself in her cabin. And Lu?

On Saturday Lulu attacked him – because he snapped at her when she didn’t help bring our shopping bags onto Quest. She ran at him like a banshee.

This is a prime example of Quest’s sensitivity. We need a tag team for our shopping bags. One person stands on the pontoon. They lift the bag onto the boat. The person in the cockpit passes the bags to the person on the stairs. The stairs person hands them down to the saloon soul. And where was Lu – our saloon soul? Nowhere to be seen.

So the answer is yes, Jack did create her, but he is also manifesting as her metaphorical punch bag. Why? Because he asks her what’s wrong when the rest of us are in full retreat. Proper retarded martyrdom. And when she doesn’t want to help him with boat stuff, he takes it to ultra-heart. I swear he is learning. He’s learning fast.

We sat opposite Starbucks yesterday. Lu’s fave drinking hole at home. She was in tears at the back of the car. Every time she goes on her phone – we’ve seen her mood go south. Yesterday, there was an exchange of cruel words over text. Our hearts fell as her tears crept down her cheeks.

Jack remembered Starbucks and did a quick U-ey. And in true teenage mode, she began shouting at him. I could see the confusion and pain in his face. Literally any other moment and Lulu would have gotten into trouble for it. I stared silently, pleading with this man. Do not bite.

He came out ten minutes later with a Mocha Frappuccino, double shot, whipped cream, no caramel. Didn’t forget a thing. Lu took it and we drove home.

This morning, as he was out buying us lazy bitches doubles, Lu turned to me in the middle of her Physics class. She said, ‘Dad was a real G yesterday. My drink was awesome. He got it exactly right.’

I felt the sun come out. It was suddenly nice and warm. ‘Wasn’t he? A real G.’