The woman laughs – a genuine laugh this time; nothing forced about it. ‘No. She lives ten minutes from my flat. I see her all the time. It’s just that she’s married now, and she’s got a husband and a baby… And obviously I love her husband and her baby – to bits – but… it’s not the same any more. I miss the ‘old’ her, I suppose. Which is technically the ‘young’ her. Well, you know what I mean. And it’s like that with most of my friends. They’re all in couples now and they’ve got such different lives…’

‘Mm-hmm, I understand.’ Like a lot of first-time callers, I can sense this is someone that just needs to vent. To open a valve and let out the thoughts that have been pinballing madly around her head for God knows how long.

She carries on. ‘It’s like… I realise that their families are the most important things in their lives right now. So I just feel that if I ever want to talk to them about my stuff, about what’s going on with me… I know they won’t fully be present, you know? Because whatever it is, it couldn’t possibly be as important as their child or their marriage. And I can tell they feel guilty too, because they think I’m being left behind and I’m going to end up on my own. Which, don’t get me wrong, I wouldn’t really mind. I like being on my own. But I don’t want to be… lonely.’ The word catches in her throat and she breaks off. The phone feels hot against my ear. ‘I’m constantly surrounded by people,’ she says. ‘My friends and my family and my colleagues. But, still, that’s how I feel. I feel lonely.’

She cuts off suddenly, almost breathless. ‘Sorry. God. Actually hearing myself say this stuff out loud makes me realise how selfish and spoiled it all sounds. Talk about First World problems.’

‘Not at all,’ I say. ‘Not in the slightest.’ And I mean it. After six years of doing this, I can tell when someone is genuinely suffering.

‘You’re being far too nice,’ she laughs. ‘If you think I’m a dick, you can just tell me I’m a dick. I honestly won’t mind.’

I can’t help laughing too. ‘I don’t think I’m technically allowed to tell you you’re a dick, actually. That’s not really what this helpline is for.’

‘Right. I guess it would go against company policy to tell callers that they’re dicks.’

‘It would almost certainly be frowned upon, yeah.’

We both laugh this time. It’s weird. It feels sort of… comfortable. I’ve felt many different emotions listening to callers over these past few years, but ‘comfortable’ has never been one of them.