I have been known to say that Tim is an idiot; I even mentioned him during the holiday. I remember Paul leaning back in his seat to listen to the conversation, but what would he have to gain by sneaking into my cabin to post something on Facebook about someone he didn’t even know? On the other hand, I can’t believe that at any point I was sufficiently drunk to write those words for the whole world to read and not remember I’d done it. So who else could it have been?

It had to be Ian. It would be just his style. Anything to undermine me, to weaken me. I can picture him after our phone conversation had ended with so much vitriol, thumping upstairs in a rage to the spare room where we keep the desktop computer and hammering out something he knew would get me into trouble.

I start to shiver, and I’m not sure if it is the weather or my fear of the hours, days and weeks ahead. The world around me looks grey – the sky, the buildings, the dirty wet pavements. I know I need to go home, to get out of this wicked wind, but Ian will be there and I’m sure he will laugh at my predicament, particularly if he was its architect.

I can feel tears running down my cheeks and lift my hand to wipe them away with the backs of my fingers. I push myself up from the bench and head towards the tram stop.

It is only a five-minute walk from my stop to the house, and I find myself dawdling, not wanting to get there, not wanting to tell Ian what has happened. But I can’t go in looking defeated. I take a deep breath and lift my head.

As I turn the last corner I’m surprised to see a woman in a long royal-blue coat walking up our path towards the door. I’m even more startled when I recognise the silver hair and realise that it’s Thea.

‘Hello,’ I say, unable to disguise my relief at seeing a friendly and supportive face.

‘Hello, dear,’ she says, a smile lighting up her eyes. ‘How lovely to see you. I thought you’d be at work. I popped round with a card with our address on in case you ever fancied a visit.’ She waves a piece of cream-coloured card in the air. ‘I’ve been to see an old friend in hospital, and as I was on this side of town I thought I’d kill two birds with one stone.’

‘I didn’t know you had my address,’ I say. ‘I meant to give it to you, but I think my worries about coming home drove all the sense out of me.’