But I can’t.

‘Look,’ we say at the same time. ‘Sorry,’ we both add.

‘You first,’ she says, pushing flame-red hair back from her face. Her trademark, heavily made-up eyes are wide and expectant and not as cross as I’d imagined they might be. I’d expected a torrent of abuse; I’d expected a shit storm. I think I’d expected all the things I felt I deserved.

‘We are both to blame,’ she says instead, cautious not to be overheard. ‘It’s no more your fault than mine. It’s just one of those things…’

Well, maybe it was for her, maybe it was for me, but it doesn’t feel like it. And it didn’t feel like it then, which might explain why I feel so unsteady now as she reaches for my hand. I wish I could pull her in close to me. I need her.

‘It was shit,’ I say. ‘It was a shitty thing to do. But you’re right, we are both to blame. I guess I can’t forgive myself as easily as you seem to have done.’

She looks stunned, like I’ve sucker punched her, and I wish I could take the words back because that isn’t how I wanted to make her feel – but instead I make a point of holding eye contact, owning up to my mistakes. Being a man about it. She runs her tongue across her teeth then opens her mouth to speak, but nothing comes out. She just nods, takes her hand back and reaches for a glass instead. ‘Pint?’ she asks, coldly.

I nod. ‘And one for Paul, if he’s here?’ I pick out coins from my loose change on the bar. Counting out the cost of two pints. She slams the drinks down on the bar and I reach up to catch froth that escapes down the side of the glass. The bitter taste catches my tongue and I crave the dullness I’ll feel after a few more.

Michelle picks up the change from the side, counting it out. I wait, pretending it’s to make sure she’s got enough when really it’s because I want to take this all back. When all the change has gone into the till, she turns to look at me, leaning across the bar. ‘I loved your brother, Rhys. And I am devastated he is no longer here.’ She pauses a second but she’s not done. ‘I am devastated about what we did. How we repaid his memory. How dare we be so selfish? But you know something? Grief wraps you up in a film that blurs your vision. It suffocates and confuses you. You make bad calls, you do stupid stuff. You lost a brother, I get it. I lost my boyfriend. Yes, things had been hard towards the end, and I don’t know what our future would have held had he not…’ I pick up my drinks to leave but she grabs hold of my arm. ‘Don’t you think for one second that you’ve got the monopoly on grief, Rhys Woods. Don’t you fucking dare.’