I took in a shaky breath. Mark was a manager at one of the libraries where I met with clients. We’d been engaging in slightly awkward conversations for a few months now. Mostly about books, gradually progressing on to the weather, local news and eventually restaurants – his slightly bumpy segue into asking me out. He was nice, if a little over-earnest, and had beautiful brown eyes. If I could keep focused on the top of his face, and avoid his constant lip-chewing, I could quite possibly, almost definitely end up sort of attracted to him.

This was my first date in nearly two years. Even if Mark didn’t turn out to be ‘the one’, I was in desperate need of the practice.

I was also in desperate need of a social life that didn’t revolve around my sixty-three-year-old mother and my newly married best friend.

But I couldn’t go.

I can’t go!

I replied to Steph, even while willing her to force me into it. She sent me a flurry of replies:

No! NO NO NO! YOU HAVE TO GO!!

You cannot let her do this again!

I am literally begging you

Drew is begging you

Tell her the truth, turn off your phone and GO AND ENJOY YOURSELF

I sucked in an anxious breath.

I should have told her I had plans

Another split-second reply:

Have you forgotten tooth-gate?

I would never forget tooth-gate.

Ollie, you are not going to stand someone up on V Day! I forbid you to cancel!

I jumped in and out of the shower, trying to hold back the tears that had, if I’m honest, been building for years now. Steph continued bombarding me with messages as I got ready. I didn’t bother replying that I didn’t even like Mark that much. That it was rude and cruel to leave my mother, riddled with two decades of abandonment issues, alone on Valentine’s Day. That I wouldn’t enjoy the date anyway due to stressing out about Mum’s anxious messages reproducing like mutant bacteria on my phone.

And then her last message hit me like a punch in the guts:

Keep giving in to this and the Dream List might as well die.

Dressed in flared black trousers and a pale blue halter-neck top, coppery hair curled into soft waves, my grey eyes rimmed with a smudge of eyeliner, I took a breath fit for a deep-sea dive, picked up my chunky-heeled shoes and steeled myself for impact.

Mum was ready and waiting for my footsteps on the stairs. As soon as I entered the dining room she hurried in, bearing two plates, piled high. A platter of samosas and bhajis was already on the table.

‘Well, don’t you look gorgeous! Almost a shame you haven’t got a date tonight.’