That night was without doubt the most wonderful one I’ve ever spent. Discussing where we would hold the wedding, and what we would do with decor; who the bridesmaids would be and who you’d like as your best man. And, beyond that, talking about kids for the first time. About having the child I’d craved for more years than I’d like to admit.

You told me, that night, that I’d make a wonderful mother. That you could see me already, teaching them music and juggling my part of the childcare with work. I loved how you added that you’d take paternity leave too. That you wanted to be part of it all.

When we wandered out into the cold night and stood wrapped round each other, I felt as if everything was perfect. Everything.

It was only later that panic started to set in.

It actually started a little while after you’d dozed off half on top of me. I felt a sudden rush of sadness at not having my mum around to tell, and then I imagined how she’d react if she were still alive. And for some reason, in my head, my wonderful, deeply missed mum asked a terrible thing. She asked if you’d thought of proposing before Dina got engaged. Whether you were just doing it to make a point.

My real mum would never have been so cruel. This was purely my subconscious talking. Or perhaps it was Her, because I’d certainly had enough champagne that night for my drunk persona to make something of an appearance.

It only took that thought to drive me straight from contented joy to total paranoia. I started imagining that these two proposals were really just some kind of conversation between you and Dina. A dialogue that I had no part in. You were toying with each other, I thought. And her new fiancé and I were just collateral damage.

By the time I arrived back in the UK I was a wreck. I think you put a lot of it down to the overexcitement of our engagement. I was grateful that you did. There was no way I could talk to you about this. I knew you would be furious with me, and I was more than afraid that you might call the whole thing off.

All this was in my mind the night Drunk Louise did something truly terrible. Something that might still, to this day, turn out to be worse than I thought.

And I knew none of it at first. I knew only that April and I had gone out, and that I had woken up in pieces, with what must have been the worst hangover I’ve ever had. Worse even than that first one.