I wipe as much off as possible before applying a bit of foundation. It’s not that I care at all what I look like right now, but I do actually want them to let me on an aeroplane. I don’t want to look unstable or as if I have some kind of highly contagious infection that makes your eyes explode, your nose run and your face turn bright red and blotchy. The foundation is a resounding success – now I look one even colour and depressed.

A text comes through from Ali, asking me to let her know when I’ve left so that she can break the news to everyone there. I tell her I’ll be out of here in five minutes and ask her to break the news gently. Not for Daniel’s sake, but for my family – especially my mum. I ask Ali to explain to my mum that I’m okay and to tell her, and only her, where I’m going.

As I lock my phone again, that’s when I notice the engagement ring on my finger. Suddenly it feels tight, heavy even. It’s a reminder of what I’ve lost that I just don’t need. Actually, it’s not just the reminder I don’t need, it’s the ring. What do I need an engagement ring for? I take it off and stuff it into my jewellery box for now, to be returned to its purchaser at a later date.

As I leave my bedroom I eyeball my bed suspiciously. My bed – my super-king, super-comfortable mattress that I pushed for. Daniel didn’t think we needed a super king, he said upgrading to a king was enough, but there isn’t a huge amount of difference between a double mattress and a king mattress, so I eventually talked him round. As soon as it arrived he agreed with me that it was one of the best things we ever bought, but now all I can think about is whether or not he and Eva slept together on it. I don’t think even Daniel would stoop that low.

On my way here I called up the taxi company and asked them if they could send the car a little earlier, and to our house instead of the venue. Well, I’d have to be crazy to pay for a taxi to the train station when I’ve got one pre-booked that I’ve already paid for. What with the suffocating wedding costs, that there is no way I can get refunded, that I haven’t dared to think about yet. My plan is to go to the station, catch the train to the hotel (one of Daniel’s only real contributions to the wedding was where we could cut corners and save money – that should have been a red flag) and hide myself away from the world until tomorrow, when I can hop on a plane and escape my mess of a life for a while, just until I figure out what to do.

I head for the door and grab my case, placing it outside on the kerb, ready for my taxi to come and pick me up and take me away from all of this. I’m about to lock the front door when Daniel’s suitcase catches my eye again. I pop back inside, grab it, and drag it out to the bottom of the drive where mine is.