Alex ushers me up the garden path. ‘I promise you they’re lovely.’ He presses the doorbell while I fight the urge to bolt.

A squeal comes from somewhere deep in the house. ‘Jo,’ Alex murmurs. Then the door whooshes open to reveal her husband.

‘Bronte!’ Brian exclaims, greeting me like an old friend as he sweeps me up in a hug. A second later he’s replaced by Alex’s sister.

‘I’m so happy to meet you at last!’ she gushes, beaming from ear to ear. She’s a bit taller than me with shoulder-length dark hair swept up into a tousled bun.

Alex’s dad is a tad reserved, tall and slim like his son with a chiselled jawbone and a perfectly straight nose, but he offers me what feels like a genuine smile as he shakes my hand and retreats.

Alex’s mum, Clarissa, however, with her startling, all-too-familiar blue eyes, greets me very amiably.

‘It is so lovely to meet you,’ she says, clasping my hand in both of hers. ‘Alex has told me a lot about you.’

It takes all of five minutes for my nerves to dissipate. Alex wasn’t lying. I’m among friends, not enemies.

The day is a revelation. Some of Brian and Jo’s friends from their NCT group turn up with their little ones, and Alex and Jo’s aunt and uncle also join in the celebrations. Clarissa takes me under her wing when Alex is called away to repair a broken toy, and I feel oddly at ease in her company.

The warm feeling that has been expanding inside me is threatening to burst by the time we leave that afternoon. I feel better and more at peace than I have in years. I turn to look at Alex in the driver’s seat.

‘Thank you,’ he says, glancing at me.

‘No, thank you.’

He gives me a quizzical look.

‘I feel like a weight I didn’t even realise I’d been carrying has lifted from my shoulders.’

Have I done it? Have I finally laid the past to rest?

We drive past East Finchley Tube station and it occurs to me that I should be getting out.

‘You want to come back to mine for a bit?’ Alex asks.

‘I should head to Polly’s,’ I tell him hesitantly. ‘I need to get my bags and say goodbye.’

‘I’ll drive you.’

‘Alex, you don’t have to do that.’

‘I want to. Honest. I’ll take you to your hotel.’

‘No! It’s too far, I’ll jump on a train.’

‘Let me,’ he says. ‘Please.’

‘Are you sure?’

He glances at me. ‘I’m sure.’

I feel strangely reluctant to leave him, too.

It takes over an hour to get to Polly’s, but we talk the whole way, and the atmosphere in the car is light and lively. I feel drunk with happiness after the day we’ve had.

‘I really like your mum,’ I say.

‘She liked you, too. I knew she would. She gave me so much grief about letting you slip through my fingers.’