Or I find the strength to believe what part of me thinks: that I deserve more than someone who doesn’t really care, even if for years I thought he did. Even if for years, I forgave him his quirks, like the fact he found public displays of affection abhorrent. I accepted that. It didn’t matter. Because I loved him.

I can feel a hiccup-cry coming on. I’m overtired.

Or maybe I’m just beginning to realise that it really is over.

How could he fall out of love so quickly? So completely. Am I that unlovable? I yawn, then growl out loud. I can’t keep doing this – I can’t. I’ll never move on, I’ll never sort myself out. And what’s the alternative? Spending the rest of my days pining for him? I switch the telly on to chase away my thoughts, to drown out the silence of being here alone. I channel hop until I find a rerun of Friends, the one with Joey and Janice’s day of fun.

I pick out my notebook from my bag; Rhys’s mobile number stands out on the top of the page. That’s something I hadn’t foreseen in my future when I set off for work this morning: the arrival of an overheated plumber who would crumble in my family room. He was pretty shaken up, which panicked me to begin with – I really didn’t want to start my first day as ward sister by making a rookie error – but there’s no denying he came into his own with Susan. Mark’s book backs up the theory that Rhys could be helpful to her. I guess, if he’s up for helping, there’s no real harm. If I’m going to get Susan to talk, she needs to feel supported and nurtured. She needs comfort and security. If Rhys brings that, we need to make the most of it. Of him.

I aimlessly doodle as I process the pros and cons to this course of action. Ten minutes pass and I look down to see a pad full of detailed, scribbled squares, malformed 3D boxes and a million shaded triangles. The ring of my mobile phone jolts me back to now and I fumble to answer. ‘Hello?’

There’s a sniffle on the end of the line, and a tiny voice says, ‘Kat?’

It’s my brilliant, if slightly melodramatic – read: high maintenance – best friend, Lou. ‘You frightened the crap out of me then. I was just…’ The sniffles ramp up a gear so I change tack. ‘Hey, Lou-Lou! What’s up?’ Experience tells me to rearrange myself and get comfy, Lou’s sobs suggest this call will be a long one.

‘It’s him.’ Sob. Sniff. ‘He is a shit and the wedding is off!’

‘Again?’ I say, because I’ve lost count of how many times she has called this wedding off. It’s almost as if she’s doing it for effect.

‘Yes. But I mean it this time.’ Nose blow. ‘You won’t believe what he said to me.’