I hurried into Top Shop, where Charlie and I had gone that first night. It seemed so long ago but was only, what, four weeks?

Four weeks! My relationship with Charlie had got very serious, very quickly. I was deeply, seriously in love with her, beyond lust or infatuation. Already, I couldn’t imagine a future without her. Her comment that morning – ‘I don’t like change’ – made me believe that she felt exactly the same way. I had no doubt that she liked me as much as I liked her, and that made me feel secure and happy.

Perhaps, by most people’s standards, it had moved too fast. But I really didn’t care. We felt how we felt, and it wasn’t like we were talking about eloping or even moving in together. I was, however, planning to ask her if she wanted to go on holiday at Easter, somewhere warm. I was also thinking about taking her to see my mum and dad’s graves, down in Eastbourne, the closest I could get to introducing her to my parents. Or was that too morbid? I wondered if she’d want to do the same with her own deceased parents. Things like that, the coincidence of us both being orphans – though I hated that word – made me think that our relationship was serendipitous. The same with us having such similar surnames. We were meant to be. Charlie whispered that to me all the time.

‘You know the Greek myth?’ she asked. ‘That Zeus split humans in two and that we all wander the earth looking for our lost half? Well, we’re the lucky ones, Andrew. We found our missing half, the half that makes us whole.’

In addition to embracing Greek myths, like many couples we mythologised the beginning of our relationship. If I hadn’t dropped that coin. If you hadn’t had to wait so long at the Tube station. And then Charlie had lost her phone, been unable to contact me. What if I’d met someone else during that short period? Oh, we had overcome so many obstacles to be together, laughed in Fate’s cruel face!

I mulled all this over as I explored the shops of Oxford and Regent Street. By the time I had finished shopping, the rooftops were white with snow and the pavements were slippery with slush. It seemed like lots of people were leaving work early, keen to get home before public transport shut down, keeping their fingers crossed for a snowed-in day tomorrow.

I joined the crowds pushing into the Tube station. I was already beginning to regret buying so much as I was laden with bags full of shirts and jumpers and shoes. My pathetic trainers were soaked through, my socks damp and cold. The snow was still coming down hard.