‘Oh, no, it’s not that at all, quite the opposite,’ I reply, embarrassed. ‘I had hoped it would be a seat for my husband.’

‘Oh, er…’ I cringe as I watch him agonise over his wording. ‘This is, er… I’m not looking for a wife. I have a boyfriend, back in London.’

I don’t know what is more embarrassing: that I entertained, hypothetically, for a second, that the first handsome stranger I met might fall in love with me and be the answer to all my problems, or the fact that this poor gay guy thinks I just went from insisting he wasn’t my boyfriend to telling him I want him to be my husband. I down my drink anxiously.

‘Oh, no, you are going to laugh when you hear this,’ I begin to explain. ‘I called off my wedding today.’

The man’s big brown eyes widen. I realise that this partial explanation may have only made things worse. Now he probably just thinks I want to marry him because I’m on the rebound.

‘Wait, I can explain this better,’ I say. I take his untouched drink from him and knock that back too. When, oh, when will the mortification end today? ‘I was supposed to be getting married today, but I caught my fiancé kissing one of our friends. It sounded like they’d been having some sort of affair, God knows for how long.’

‘I’m sorry, that’s very bad,’ he replies.

‘It is,’ I agree. ‘So… I don’t know why but I thought it would be a good idea to still go on my honeymoon, but on my own.’

I can see a wave of relief literally wash over the man as he connects all the dots, and realises what’s going on. First, his tense posture relaxes, then the anguished look on his face melts away.

‘So this seat was supposed to be for your husband…’

‘Yes! But no husband means spare seat – so were you on the waitlist?’

‘Yes,’ he replies. ‘I’m travelling home for a wedding. My brother is getting married. I am sorry to hear about your wedding.’

‘Well, if this hadn’t happened to me, then you wouldn’t have been able to take the ticket, and you’d still be stuck in London. So, at least something good has come out of it,’ I say.

‘That’s a good way to see things,’ he replies. ‘But I am still sorry for you.’

‘Thanks,’ I say. ‘Well, I’m done embarrassing myself for the day – why don’t you tell me about you?’

‘I’m Angelo, I’m twenty-one,’ he begins. ‘I’m an art student, in London. I met my boyfriend, Liam, while studying. He is so wonderful!’

I smile. It’s weirdly nice, to see someone so in love. You’d think I’d be jealous, being so miserable myself, but it’s comforting to see that real love is still alive and well in some people. It’s only the people who I know who are sick – and me now, of course – and, at the risk of Angelo catching my bitter cynicism, I decide it best not to talk any more about my love life.