Part of me wants as little responsibility as possible – my first step to feeling free from the hell I’m in. I’d mentioned this last night to our Kit and Gareth. At first, they both told me I was going through a process and I told them to go fuck themselves. I asked Kit what he’d do if Gareth died and he said he’d kill himself. Obviously this answer wasn’t very helpful, but it shut them up; and they’re now both supporting my decisions. Whatever they may be.

‘You should go on that X Factor,’ my nan suggests.

Carol returns and the food arrives. We’re all overwhelmed by the size of the battered fish on each plate and my nan says she’ll never eat all that, she could’ve done with half. I wish I hadn’t offered to drive; the gin and tonics look so appealing right now, in ice-cold goldfish bowls on glass sticks. But my phone lights up and Beth has replied.

The Pheasant?! What the hell you doin there? xxx

Mum forced me.

Ah. xxx

My mum tells me to put my phone away and my dad tells her to leave me alone. I’m really enjoying the fish and chips, actually, and squeeze an extra dollop of tartare sauce onto my plate. My dad’s just realised he knows the fella on the next table. They used to work on the taxis years ago, before my dad got his own business. We all say hello to him and his family, ooh and ahh at his grandson in the highchair making a right mess of a bowl of chips. For some reason, my mum thinks she needs to explain the state of me and tells this family I’m usually more chirpy, more well-dressed, but I’m grieving my boyfriend. They’re extremely sympathetic and say God bless. I know this pleases my mum. A lot.

‘I don’t think I look that bad, Mum,’ I say. ‘If anything, I’m just hungover.’

‘Oh, Chloe, don’t be so childish.’

‘It’s the truth. And you can blame our Kit for that.’

‘Where is your Kit?’ Carol asks.

‘Eating pizza in bed with Gareth,’ my nan tells her.

I excuse myself to the loo, but walk past it and out into the beer garden. The tyre swing is still in the play area, although the springy safe floor is a recent addition. I sit down, grateful to be alone, not a single kid in sight. The motorway can’t be seen from here, but I can hear the constant hum of cars not too far away. I swing, gently.

‘I came here to forget about you,’ I whisper. ‘But even the people who never met you can’t stop bringing up your bloody name.’

I stretch my legs forward and back, swinging higher.

‘If you were here, this’d be more fun. Actually, it would be fun.’