I flick the hair out of the back of my jacket and pick the bag up, my hands trembling. I try and read his face but he’s not giving anything away. I pull out the box, which is thankfully too big for a ring, and I begin to relax. I flip open the lid expecting jewellery, only to be confused by the solid lump of silver in front of me.

‘It’s a wine bottle stopper. The one you’ve got looks to be on its last legs.’

I glance over at the stopper that’s poking out of an open bottle of red. It’s got a ceramic Portuguese cockerel on top, and it’s at least seventeen years old. It was a present from a holiday Mum and Dad went on the summer she died. It was probably a last-minute purchase at the airport, one that she thought I’d take to university that September and lose. But it was the last thing she ever gave me and because of that it’s become one of my most treasured items.

‘Oh, um, thanks.’ I turn the super-sleek, beautifully designed silver stopper over in my hands. I don’t tell him what the cockerel stopper means to me. Miles isn’t one of those people who wants to know everything about me and the life I’ve lived before him; he baulks at hearing anything even remotely emotional, and sometimes – like now, when grief is tightening its grip around my heart – that suits me just fine.

‘So, what have you got planned for us tonight?’ I ask, putting the wine stopper back in its box.

‘It’s a surprise. I just need to set a few things up.’ He looks down at his bulging rucksack. ‘I know it’s your flat and everything, but I need you to disappear for a little while. Ten minutes or so.’

‘OK. I’ll go in the bedroom.’

‘Nope, I need that too. How about you wait downstairs in the foyer.’

I think for a minute that he’s joking, but he starts to usher me out.

‘Ten minutes?’

‘Fifteen minutes, max,’ he says, closing the door behind me.

I head downstairs and settle myself in the faux leather chair next to the main entrance. I can’t help laughing at what a strange day it’s been. From having my life picked apart by a class of seven-year-olds to being chucked out of my own flat whilst Miles does goodness knows what to it.

It might not have been the day I imagined I’d have, and certainly not one that would meet most people’s expectations of a birthday, but it’s been good enough for me. And one that didn’t warrant the uneasy feeling I’ve had all week.