Things improved after that. We began picking up the scattered pieces of our relationship, and I tucked the loss of my mum and sister into a little velvet box at the back of my mind, determined to move on with my life – our lives. It’s what Mum and Lark would have wanted, I told myself. And I desperately wanted to make William happy.

But that small snatch of happiness lasted no time at all. My life, the life I thought was back on a safe, even road, plummeted into another deep dark ditch, and I wasn’t sure I’d be able to climb out this time. After awful stomach cramps I prayed were IBS, I lost our baby at five months pregnant.

So, it’s been a tragic year – a year of heartache and loss. I’ve heard people say bad things come in threes. But how does anyone stay strong when said bad things hit one after the other? One! Two! Three! Wham! Bam! Slam!

Lark vanished.

Mum died.

I lost my baby.

I’m not going to lie; I wondered what I’d done in a previous life to deserve such sorrow.

I tried so hard not to be that woman who everyone felt sorry for. ‘Poor Amelia – nothing goes right for her.’ ‘Oh, Amelia, love, it could only happen to you.’ Or worse, the woman people crossed the road to avoid, fearing her misery was catching. But it was impossible. I was that woman wallowing knee-deep in self-pity, and I hadn’t got a clue where to find the strength to pick myself up; still haven’t. In fact, I fully understand how some women lose their mind following a miscarriage, as I’m pretty close to losing mine right now.

With the loss of our baby, my life with William was over. He’d seen the worst of me – not a pretty sight. Couldn’t take any more. Wasn’t strong enough. He said, as he touched my cheek gently a week after our loss, his fingertips drying my skin, ‘I can’t do this anymore, Amelia.’ He’d lost his baby too, he said – he was in pain too, he said – but I know he never felt the same kind of screwed-up agony I felt.

He stayed around for two months after that, spending a lot of time at his mum’s, or crying on the shoulder of an ex-girlfriend. He never did tell me her name. Did he think I would knife her on a lonely street?