Several times I wished Scott had been sitting next to me, talking about auras or some other bizarre notion. If I hadn’t been hurtling along in a plane, I might have tried to call him. Not that I’d have known what to say.

I wonder how he is, what he’s up to. I never asked him what he did for work, where he lived, what he liked to do. I’m so wrapped up in myself. I spend far too much time keeping my emotions in check, yet at the same time wallowing in self-absorption. I’m doing it now. I need to change. Start thinking more about others and less about myself.

Snatching my phone off my lap, I call Scott.

“Hey, Trish,” he says, answering before I’ve had a second to reconsider. “Glad you rang.”

“Hi, I… I’ve just got back from another quick trip to Tokyo.”

“You have? Wow, I bet you’re shattered.”

“A bit.” I hesitate. “Actually, more like a lot.”

“How’s the pregnancy going?”

“It’s fine.” I hesitate because I want to tell him the truth, not brush things off as I normally would. “It’s been a little rough this week. I had a scare. Thought I was having a miscarriage.”

I hear Scott take a sharp intake of breath.

“Trish that’s awful. I’m so sorry.”

“The baby’s OK. At least that’s what the midwife and doctor tell me.”

“They generally have a pretty good understanding of these things.”

In the next few seconds of silence, I remember why I rang. So far, this conversation has been all about me.

“How are you doing, Scott? Did you manage to check out of the hotel without running into your ex?”

“Yes, thankfully. I was kind of hoping I might bump into you so I could apologize for my disgraceful behaviour, but I slept in, woke with a hangover and took a while to drag myself to your door. By then you’d left.”

I like knowing he came to find me the morning after the wedding: that I hadn’t been forgotten. Also, he wasn’t the only one to behave “disgracefully”, as he put it. I was the one who kissed him in the lift, though he may not even remember that part.

“So, I’d still love to take you out for a meal, if you’d let me?” says Scott. “It’s the least I can do, considering you not only came to a wedding with a virtual stranger in a foreign city where you knew no one, but you also put up with me making a highly inappropriate drunken advance on you. Which by the way I promise not to do again.”

The taxi driver smiles at me in the rear-view mirror as I laugh.

“You make it sound far worse than it was.”

“The drunken kiss was all right, then?”

So he does remember.