‘The clown figurine. With all the balloons?’

He looked at me blankly.

‘You don’t even know you’ve got a clown figurine, do you?’

‘Well, there’s quite a lot of stuff in here to remember.’

‘Well, there’s one less thing now.’

When I returned with the dustpan and brush, you were back in your flat. Dressing in the bedroom. Tracksuit bottoms, I think, and a T-shirt. You didn’t appear upset. Almost unaffected by what had happened. You disappeared again, emerging a few minutes later, carrying a bowl and spoon into the lounge. I guessed cereal. You guzzled it and wiped dribbles from your chin. I was forced to leave you as I swept the glass. The clown’s grinning face stared at me, intact, surrounded by the shattered multicoloured shards. When I stood with the weighted dustpan, I watched you turn on the TV. You sat back, eating, watching, not a care for Fiona. For anyone.

You slowly placed the bowl on the floor and answered your phone. Whoever the caller was, they made you smile, laugh. I observed you throughout the conversation. Timed it by the dodgy cuckoo clock. Six minutes. They’d amused you for the duration. Your head thrown back, fingers running through your hair. I found it hard to believe that Fiona could have brought you round so quickly. Then I remembered Sarah.

Needing to walk away from you for a moment, I carried the dustpan into the kitchen and disposed of the clown on top of the broken plate.

Edward had fallen asleep, so I gently removed his glasses and placed them on the bedside table. Took the phone handset and switched off his light.

When I returned to the lounge, you were back to stuffing your face and watching TV. With Edward’s phone, I blocked the number and dialled.

Looking confused, you picked up the call. ‘Hello?’ you said. ‘Hello?’

I remained silent.

‘For fuck’s sake, Fiona, is this you? If it is, please fuck off and get a grip. We weren’t in a relationship. Just let it go.’

It wasn’t me who put the phone down this time. It was you.

With confirmation that Fiona wasn’t the mystery caller, with frenzied hands I removed the folded Post-it from my pocket and dialled Sarah’s number.

It rang once. Twice. Three times.

‘Thank you for contacting Everton Car Insurance—’

I ended the call. Rushed over to the window. Slammed it down and pulled the curtains shut.

Knowing Fiona had …

Knowing Fiona had been eradicated, I became more positive. Regained my purpose. Our romantic reunion. Concentrated on ways to bring you back to me. Laid to rest all that had gone before. Forgave you.