On the Sunday night after Jack left, I lay down on the sofa holding onto a framed photo of Nikki and me that I’d taken with a selfie stick shortly after I proposed. Nikki was holding her hand up, flashing off her ring. The campervan was behind us and the sea behind that, capturing everything we loved in one shot. We adored that photo. We both looked so happy and in love which, of course, we were. After telling our immediate families, we’d used the photo to announce our engagement on social media, then had a copy printed and framed. We’d even discussed having a muted version of it as the background for the seating plan at our wedding.

Running my fingers lightly across her beautiful face, I realised one thing: Nikki would have been heartbroken to see me like this. She’d been such a vibrant person who’d embraced spontaneity and had lived every moment to the full. She’d have wanted me to continue to do the same and I was going to. It might take time and there’d be several setbacks, but I’d get there eventually.

The starting point was to stop turning down invitations from work colleagues. I was lonely in London but that was my fault. My colleagues had tried to get to know me and I’d turned away from them all. Not anymore. Which was why I was now surrounded by doctors, nurses, consultants and admin staff packed into The Dog and Duck round the corner from the hospital. One of the doctors was going on a one-year sabbatical to Africa. I didn’t even know which doctor it was so felt like a right fraud attending their leaving do.

I finished my pint and wondered whether I could slip out quietly. I doubted anyone would notice. The conversation about Whitsborough Bay continued round me but I wasn’t part of it. To my right, a few colleagues were having a conversation about the latest Marvel film. A long-time fan, I itched to join in the discussion. But what if they started talking about Thor? What if one of them decided, like Nikki, that I looked like Chris Hemsworth. Would I be able to hold it together?

I picked up my empty glass and headed towards the bar, trying to convince myself to stay for one more. The queue was three people deep and there were only two very fraught-looking staff members serving. I looked back towards the seat I’d just vacated. Someone was already in it.