‘Babes. I’m more than aware he’s me rebound. The next fella I meet after him’ll be the one I have me babies with,’ Beth states, although I can hear a wobble in her voice. She’s determined to get pregnant, and soon. I can only hope all her meticulous plans – Beth’s version of dreams – come together. She’ll be a brilliant mum one day. ‘By the way, who’s Paul Rudd?’

I steal a spray of her perfume.

‘You know. Funny guy, handsome. The one who marries Phoebe in Friends.’

‘Oh, him! God, you’re right. He does look like Paul Rudd.’

I blow her a kiss and run to the tube station.

Maybe Beth’s right? Maybe it is a ring.

It’s a cute idea. But come on. It’s cheesier than a packet of Wotsits.

Maybe Jack would’ve done it to gross me out. Even his dad said he was transparent. He was asking me outright to wonder what was behind the picture.

Waiting two minutes for the next train to arrive is agony. I watch the digital clock ticking, wondering if there’s a fault – the seconds are passing by too slowly.

So, if it’s not an engagement ring, then what is behind the picture?

Tickets?

And where to? What for?

I’ve got it. Vietnam. It was supposed to be our next big trip, wasn’t it? Maybe Jack had gone ahead and booked it without telling me. The flights would have been for last month, October: wasted money, a wasted surprise. It’s tragic. A holiday waiting behind the picture, never to be taken.

Nah, I don’t buy it. I don’t think that’s what it is.

I board the tube and curse every station it stops at, and every tourist moving at the pace of a tortoise, a humungous rucksack shell, not standing clear of the doors, causing them to open and close again and again.

Come on! Get me home!

Okay. What about tickets to Vegas? Did Jack want us to elope? I vaguely recall us having a chat about that when we were drunk one night, saying how cool it would be to get it done and dusted, and even cooler to see the look on people’s faces when we told them we got hitched in Vegas. When did we talk about that? Was it at our local? A pint and a pizza after work one night, an innocent idea, until three bottles of house wine later … God, we were absolutely hammered. I’m surprised I remember that now.

I have to switch lines, get to the Overground. I’m walking so fast that my calves burn.