Patrick Brady is the sanest man in the building. He'll tell you so himself.

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At fifty-five he has lost his wife, his business and his home, and now he's at Treetops — a supported housing scheme in South Wales where the fire doors slam all night and the man in the room above runs a bath at one in the morning.

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Around him: a nineteen-year-old who has been in the care system since he was six. A woman whose songs made somebody else famous. An ex-soldier counting out his Valium. A dealer with a diagnosis he invented when he was thirteen. And a health-and-safety officer who wants everything tickety-boo.

Patrick watches them all. He notices everything. He is the reliable one.

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​Then people start dying.​