And if I’m honest, in a corner of my mind, Dan’s level of protectiveness had worried me. It reminded me too much of someone, in the early days. It was awful to even suggest it, but a couple of things had brought to mind the old Michael. The way Dan would appear, unexpectedly. At the hospital. At my parents’ house. Like Michael, in his blue MG, outside a girlfriend’s supper party. The way Dan – sweetly, no doubt – assumed I needed support. I was tarring him with a horrible brush, and no doubt his motives were completely kind, but it felt too similar. That level of care for his mother, too. Was it control? Would it only be a matter of time before he was calling me Little Luce? And I’d thought him the safe bet. I’d thought Josh was the risk. Too attractive. Too cool. Too amusing. Too clever. But he was more vulnerable than I could ever have imagined. And I don’t mean the illness. And nor was I pleased about it, that vulnerability. I didn’t chalk it up in a smug, same-as-me-mate sort of way. It was more that the glimpse I’d had of it, of his thirst for proper, spontaneous love, reminded me of my own. If I dared unleash it. If I loosened the reins on my emotions. That glimpse had been salutary. A lesson in using more than one’s eyes, or one’s brain.

And over the years, throughout my married life, I’d trained myself to use those two very forensic, scientific senses. It went against the grain, however, and I’d spoken the truth when I’d told Josh that, by nature, I was emotionally incontinent. But guilt over the things I’d done – Liam, and then giving my children Michael as a father – had persuaded me my gut instincts were poor. So I’d tried hard to use my head, to get things right. But not this time. This time I was using my heart. And although I wasn’t naïve enough to think I’d definitely got it right, this … thing with me and Josh, whatever it was – I didn’t even know what to call it, we were so very much at the beginning – I knew I was choosing life. Hope. Daring to be me. And not, by dint of having been through so much, just plumping for a soft, safe landing. I blinked. Or not, as the case may be. I could have been heading for the rocks – who knows? No one can glimpse the future, however much they rack their brains, weigh up the pros and cons, write comparative lists. But by listening to the heart – my instincts, which I’d once written off – by consulting those, I reckoned I at least stood a fighting chance.