Nick wakes to thunder, this time on the bedroom door, and the thud of an object landing on his pillow.
"You left this on the kitchen table," says Josh, with whom he rents the cottage. "Is that squawk a ring tone? It's gross."
Nick shuts the thing off.
"It's probably got a cold. I dropped it on a wet grave last night." Josh's left eyebrow shoots up to meet the tangle of his eternally unbrushed hair.
"OK," laughs Nick, "I got caught in that storm and lost my way."
"Right. I'm working the morning shift today. What are you up to?" Josh spends half his time shifting goods for the local supermarket and the other half in a cramped outhouse he calls his studio, creating ceramics that he is beginning to market.
Nick remembers that he is due in Weston-super-Mare at 11am for an introductory day at the company where he is to start his first job in web design in August. He rolls out of bed and wonders if he has any clean clothes. Josh's face appears upside down round the bathroom door.
"You in tonight? Right, I'll pick up some stuff." They save quite a bit on Josh's discount.
Before he leaves, Nick checks his calls. On the mobile's screen an alien image appears; an insect's head, beak-like mouth opening and shutting, antennae frantically waving, enormous oval eyes staring blackly. He curses Josh's sense of humour. No matter which button he punches he cannot shift it. He tries all the functions and they work, but the insect will not go away. Time is running out and he gives up in frustration, stuffs the phone in his pocket and locks the front door.