‘May I have this dance, Miss Morgan?’

‘It would be an honour, Miss Persaud,’ she grins, almost stumbling in her haste to get up and take my hand.

We don’t so much dance as sway, which is all we can manage on the pebbles. We slip a couple of times, almost losing our balance, which isn’t quite as romantic as I’d imagined, but I don’t care as she throws her head back and laughs up at the moon. And oh, it’s such a shame. Such a shame that she’ll never get to do this in a long white dress that swishes behind her like peacock feathers. There’s no time now. No time to do any of the things on the list she made on New Year’s Eve. No time to fly to Bali. No time to surf and eat Nasi Goreng in a tiny café on the beach with sand between her toes. No time to learn to speak Mandarin or how to make the perfect grilled cheese sandwich. No time to decide what university to go to then get wasted during Freshers’ Week and miss her first lecture because she’s so hungover. There will be no first car. No first flat to paint. No first garden to plant tulips in. No golden retriever. No rowdy Christmas dinners with everyone talking at once.

I won’t have any of that stuff, either, but for the first time since I woke up on the sofa in the bookshop on New Year’s Eve, I don’t care. Sixteen years is nowhere near long enough to live a whole life, a life like Poppy’s grandmother’s, but it’s enough to have learned this: don’t worry about dying, because while you’re worrying about that, you won’t notice the thousand tiny ways that you die every day.

Every time someone tells you to grow up.

Each time someone tells you to be realistic.

Every time someone tells you that you’re too much and not enough, all at once.

Don’t listen to them.

You don’t need to be better than anyone else, you just need to be better than who you used to be.

It doesn’t feel like it now, but one day you’ll be scared of becoming the person you are today.

Actually, you’ll be scared that you never stopped being that person.

People come and go. Some are just cigarette breaks and others are wild fires.

Some people take more than they give. They take it and they never give it back and it doesn’t matter how tightly they hold you or how often they kiss you, it will never be enough to replace what they took.

Don’t let them.

If they want to leave, let them.

You can miss someone, but not want them back.

You can want to know why, but still ignore your phone when they call.