I had hoped the boat trip wouldn’t feel quite so weird, but it does. I was hoping I would just blend in with the other holidaymakers, but the seats are all in pairs, and the seat next to me is empty. Everyone else here is with their significant other, with their head on their shoulder or their hands intertwined as they listen to the tour guide or gaze out of the window – not that there’s anything to see at this time of night. Just wide open space, like the seat next to me. Still, on the plus side, I did get two glasses of champagne, instead of one. Result for the single girl. I’d say I’m winning but it kind of feels like, metaphorically speaking, everyone here is playing chess with their partner, and I’m playing draughts with myself. So I’m not exactly winning really, am I?

It’s still quite warm, even though it is dark now. That’s the south of Italy in July for you, so I don’t know what else I was expecting. It did cross my mind to come when the weather was slightly cooler, but as far as weddings in jolly old England go, I didn’t want to take any chances with the climate there, so July felt like the safest choice.

I cannot believe I had more control over the weather than I did over the groom on my wedding day.

It’s late when we finally arrive on the island. We are ushered from the boat and up a dimly lit path towards the grand hotel building. It feels as if the panoramic sound of the waves pushing against the beach is nudging me towards the floodlit building, but I can’t help but hang back just a little. I feel as if there is strength in numbers, but I am here alone.

I hover outside the entrance, allowing enough time for all the other loved-up couples to check in before me, because the idea of checking in alone, with a queue of couples gagging to get to bed behind me, is just that little bit more than I can handle today, after everything that has gone on.

I step into the huge hotel lobby, with its sky-high ceilings and gleaming marble floors. It’s an ultra-minimal open space, but it’s so full of plants I feel as if I’m still outside. The ambience of the room must shift with the clock because the lights feel romantically low, and the ceiling is lit up with twinkling lights, made to look like little stars in the night sky.

I don’t know why I worried about other people hearing me; it’s as though I was expecting one desk with a naff red-roped queue leading off behind it. Instead, there are multiple desks, all attended by attentive-looking staff. I head straight down the middle, not wanting to look as if I’m playing favourites.

‘Hello,’ I say, testing the waters to see if he speaks English. I exhale pure relief when he does.