There was a girl from my hometown I grew close with during our time getting clean. We had dissimilar daddy issues and a substance abuse problem. We met in a home that someone would see in a film about the underbelly of society, that was us.

There was a time she would come around wearing new expensive winter jackets, we all knew where she was getting the money from, most of us didn’t blame her.

Once, when she overdosed the police went to the hospital to question her. They asked who had sold an underage girl enough drugs to put down a horse, she replied, “Ask Jeeves”. Younger readers may not understand this, but before Google, there was Jeeves.

The police spent countless hours searching for a drug dealer named Jeeves, and as she told me the story, we laughed so hard, we cried. She’s moved away now, but when I see her it’s like no time has passed.

We both left the life and became mothers, working to be better after coming from the pits. I sometimes think about her strength, and her wit. And every time I think of her humor I think of Jeeves.