When I lifted it from my face, they were both stood, one either side of me in the mirror’s reflection. Her perfect crooked grin. His watery grey eyes, which I’d remembered for the first time. Planting an unwanted seed of anger as they pierced through me.

They were both alive, there. Proud. Ready to give me away.

My mum and dad.

I raised my hands to reach for theirs, but there was only air. And in the mirror, once again, there was only me.

I stumbled backwards, knocking against the wardrobe and disrupting the perfect line of shoes. This made me hyper aware of where I was, what I was doing, and I had the sudden urge to leave. Straightening myself, I wiped my face with the back of my hand and reached behind for the zip. It was fine at first. Gliding down as required. Then it stopped. Snagged. Presumably on the veil. My initial concern was to not damage the fragile tulle. But my priorities changed as my gentle tugs achieved nothing. The force I applied increased on each attempt. I was hot, suffocating. Sweat seeped as I repeated the action again and again and again. Hindered by the voluminous sleeves that also blocked my vision as I twisted to see if the mirror could help me identify the problem. My biliousness increasing with the panic of each unsuccessful reach and grapple.

I thought I’d imagined it at first.

Froze. Blinked. Hoped that it would disappear in the same way as all the other hallucinations.

The sound of a key in the door.

The step, step, step.

My head spun like the Waltzers. My body remained a statue. The taffeta desperate to give me away. I listened as you went to the lounge. Closed my eyes and prayed you’d just come back for your phone and would rush off again.

‘Yep, it’s here . . . Sorry, mate. You know what I’m like. I had visions of it being on the pavement in the snow and I’d be screwed . . . Ha . . . Yeah, totally . . . Not to mention five years of totty. Cheers, pal. Sorry again . . . Yeah . . . OK . . . See you next week.’

Then there was music.

I presumed it was the Chopin playing. I must take this opportunity to thank you again for introducing me to classical music. Even then, a trapped animal, it calmed me. I closed my eyes. One, two, three, four. One, two, three, four. Perhaps my calmness was submission. Coming to terms with my fate. Which arrived within the next couple of bars.

From inside my bag, my ringtone joined in with the melody. Inharmonious, displeasing. The discord worsened by the additional step, step, step.

I turned towards the doorway.

And there you were.

Phone at your ear. Until your hand dropped to your side in shock.

I can’t recall …

I can’t recall which of us spoke first.