Relieved, I pushed back my damp hair. I could smell body odour fermenting under my arms. At least it would deter anyone from sitting next to me. Especially the loud cockernee builder attempting to chat up a girl around my age. She just wants to get home. Leave her alone, you prick. She was trapped between the prick and the stink. It was only the four of us at the stop by then. The worst-ever double date. Thank Christ another bus came and all three of them boarded it. Then with a blast of compressed air, it moved off.

You were still talking pleasantly. Your glass near empty. She used a straw to stab what was presumably a slice of lemon. Bitter, like me.

My teeth began to chatter and I reached for my coat, which had slipped to the floor. As I bent down, the ground moved with me and I put my hand on the seat to steady myself. Determined to keep my balance, I slowly slid on the sleeves, then wrapped the sides around me. Blocked out the iced air. And when I looked back up, you were gone.

I focused beyond the window to see if you’d moved, but realized you were now in front of it. On the pavement right ahead of me. Both enveloped in your luxurious coats. A real-life John Lewis advertisement.

You hugged again.

Unable to pull myself away, I waited for the kiss to destroy me. But it was small and placed upon her forehead. Initially I was surprised, then not, as it really was the ultimate show of love, caring. Like Dad did to me that day.

There was another embrace. Then you walked in opposite directions.

Squinting with confusion at your parting, I should have been grateful. Thankful of not witnessing the whole show, as I did with Fiona. I know I should have left. But for once it wasn’t you who drew me like a magnet. I didn’t want you that night. I didn’t need to know where you were going or what you were doing. That night it was all about her. The compulsion to view her up close. Her eyes. See what you saw. What you loved.

Traffic was at peak London insanity. Making it difficult to cross the road, and easy to lose her. A woman in a BMW stopped to let me pass. I remained in the middle. Stood on the broken white line. A skittle buffeted by vehicles in both lanes. When a gap emerged, I bolted. Barely able to breathe when I hit the pavement on the other side. I pressed my fist into my chest to subdue the stabbing. Coughed until I heaved. My wet hair sticking to my face as I doubled over.