He goes to stand up. I want to grab his hand but the guard is looking at me. No touching allowed.

‘Please don’t go,’ I say, leaning forward. ‘Not yet.

‘I have to,’ he says, pushing the chair back. ‘I’ve a flight to catch.’

He stands up and it’s then that the wall I’ve spent the last few months building comes crashing down.

‘I’m sorry,’ I say, blinking through my tears. ‘I’m so so sorry.’

‘Maggie, don’t.’

‘I loved you both so much,’ I say. ‘But I always knew it was too good to be true, that I didn’t deserve it; that one day it would all be ripped away from me.’

‘You’ve spent your life punishing yourself,’ he says. ‘Maybe now it’s time to stop.’

‘Will you write to me again?’ I say.

‘I don’t think that’s a good idea, Maggie.’

‘Okay,’ I say, my heart shredding inside my chest.

‘You know I’ve never been very good with words. Not like you.’

I go to speak but my throat tightens. I nod my head instead, and as I watch the prison officer escort him out of the room I see a troubled young woman sitting behind a reception desk drowning in words; I see Waterloo Station at twilight and a young couple heading out for a drink that will change both their lives; I see a little girl smiling up at me as she prepares to make her May procession. I see love and death and life and sadness beaming back at me like light through a prism and I know, deep in my heart, that this is the last time I will ever see him.

‘Goodbye, Sean,’ I whisper as the door closes behind him.

Two years later

This morning I was released from prison. I carried a bag containing my scant possessions, among them the finished manuscript for my novel. I don’t know if anything will come of it, but it’s something I had to do. Prison gave me the time to reflect on my life, my choices and mistakes, and writing the novel was my way of making sense of it all. When I finished writing it I felt like something had departed, some heavy stone that had sat in the pit of my stomach for years. I know now that it is impossible to live your life through your children or try to rewrite the past through them. Maybe now, I’ll be able to move on with my life. Maybe there will be another book. A new start.