In my early days with Zac, I was jealous of her, my phantom predecessor, my Rebecca. But I should have thought of her as my sister, not my enemy. I squeeze my eyes shut again. When I open them I am astonished to see Maxine’s car flash past, on its way to meet the ring road. I am not too late, after all. I wait a few seconds, then pull out.

Cheltenham, Tuesday, 2 April 2019

I keep as far behind as I can and use lorries to shield me. After nearly an hour on the motorway, Maxine’s driver takes a slip road to Cheltenham. He drops her off at a Georgian terraced house near the town, on a hill that backs on to fields.

I drive slowly, watching in my rear-view mirror as she starts on the path to the front door with keys in her hand. Is this her house? I consider what to do next. I could knock on the door and ask her to let me in, but I’ve already learned as much from her today as she is prepared to tell me. I decide it is better to stay hidden and watch.

So I do a U-turn at the top of the hill and head down to the centre of town. I leave the car in a car park, then move quickly through the stalls of an outdoor market. A day that began with spring sunshine has dissolved into mist and showers. I buy a navy rain hat, a pair of cheap wellies, and some gum. Chewing it helps to get rid of the vomit flavour, and I make my way through the whole pack, discarding each piece as soon as the hit of mint is gone, then popping a new one in my mouth.

A stallholder hands over the grey hoodie I have just paid for. ‘Looks like we’re in for some April showers,’ he says.

‘I think you’re right.’ I don’t want small talk. I want to get back to that house while she is still there. I want to find out if she lives in it, or if she is meeting somebody there.

‘You look – Are you in need of help?’ he says.

‘No. Thank you.’

‘I’m sure I’ve seen you before, your photograph, I mean.’

‘You must be confusing me with someone else.’

‘Look.’ He takes out his phone. ‘This is you, despite the glasses. I’m sure of it. Your hair is different, but I have an eye for faces – I’m a super-recogniser.’

‘Can I look more closely?’

He puts his phone in my hand and I peer at the screen. It’s a Twitter post, and it’s been retweeted thousands of times since it first appeared last summer. When I scroll down, I can see the retweets are from this man’s community – people who interact with the public such as stallholders, owners of roadside cafes, motorway service workers.