‘But you’re right. I’m not happy. Our company recently won a big tender, but I couldn’t even get excited about it. I felt like a fraud because I didn’t really want to be there. Every time it looks like the company is going to fail and it might be better to close it, something happens to bring us back from the brink and we keep going. But instead of being relieved I get disappointed as, if it failed then, I’d finally be free.

‘How awful is that? I almost want it to fail and all my coworkers to lose their jobs just so that I’ll be able to get out and do something different with my life. It’s so selfish.’

‘Don’t be so hard on yourself. You’re not wishing for your work colleagues to end up on the street; you’re just looking for an easy way out and see it as your only choice. A chance to leave without any guilt. But you do have a choice, you can walk away. You said it yourself that your dad’s been sober for years now.’

‘I can’t.’ I sigh. ‘I have to be there for him.’

‘But maybe you’ve already done that. You stepped in when things were out of control and it sounds like you’ve helped make the company into something that’s now stable. Maybe that’s good enough.’

‘It’s not just Dad. I’d have to start from scratch with a whole new career. Plus, I’d be leaving my work colleagues behind and they’ve become like family to me.’

I think of all the extra hours I’ve done lately with the improv and how much closer it’s brought us.

‘Well, I’ll tell you that the one thing I’ve learnt from working abroad is that if they’re your family, they’ll want to see you truly happy, and they’ll always be there for you, wherever you are.’

‘You make it sound so simple.’

‘That’s because it can be.’

A boat meanders along the estuary out towards the open sea. I envy it being able to drift away.

‘And what about Miles?’ he asks, breaking the silence. ‘You two have been dating for a while. Do you think you will go the distance?’

There’s such gravity to the question, the conversation I had with Miles in the pub at the forefront of my mind.

‘I’m not sure,’ I say with honesty. ‘I think I don’t know him as well as I should do. I don’t know enough about what he wants and he doesn’t know enough about me and my past.’

‘Your past is always more a part of you than you realise.’

‘Oh, I realise.’

‘I didn’t mean it like that …’ he says. ‘I didn’t mean all the stuff with your parents.’