‘It’s kind of embarrassing,’ I tell him, ‘but I went to Next after work twice last week to look at baby clothes, something I can put me hand on me heart and say I’ve never done before, not even when a mate’s had a baby.’ I take another sip of wine. The waitress is coming towards me but she backs away when she clocks I’m on the phone. ‘Jack, I wanted to tell you I’m having your baby. I wanted to tell you that you’re never gonna be dead, not really, ’cause you’re living on in me. I wanted this so much it’s been keeping me sane, I mean, I put lippy on today. Lippy! And that was before I knew me mum was coming.’

I wish he could see me, see my efforts. I’m wearing a floor-length summer dress, tiger-print. My black ankle boots aren’t really appropriate for a sticky July, but they look right with the dress and besides, it was raining when I left the flat. I haven’t brought a jacket; just an umbrella. My mum breathed a sigh of relief when I washed my hair and even offered to blow-dry it for me, an offer I couldn’t refuse. I hate blow-drying my hair. I told her I was out tonight with some colleagues, new work pals. She was delighted. I gave my dad a number for a local Chinese.

A champagne cork pops and the table in the corner cheer.

‘Look, since your funeral,’ I say into the phone, ‘I’ve found meself wondering what your relationship with Florrie was like. And then I’d tell meself how it shouldn’t matter, there’ll be a reason why it never worked out for you both. You’d never have met me if you’d stayed with her. But I’ve gotta be honest, the only thing that stopped me feeling – well, I hate to say it, but – jealous, was the sudden realisation that I might be pregnant. Like I’d won. No, no. Not won. Like I’d made me mark. With you. Like I was real.’

I play with the rose-pink napkin.

In my head, I try hard to hear Jack blurt out, ‘Of course you were real!’ or something poignant and rom-com worthy. I listen, I concentrate, and nothing comes. Because Jack would never say that sort of shit. How can I imagine him being anything other than what he was?