It takes me a second or two to process what I’ve just read and then I go back to the start and I read it another three times to make sure I’m not hallucinating. Goosebumps creep up my arms.

It breaks my heart to think of eighteen-year-old me. She was so care- and worry-free, living her life in a way that I’d forgotten I had once done. She sounded so young, and she had no idea what was coming her way and how it would change her life forever.

I don’t often think about the long summer at Hartland’s. It’s so hard to remember all the fun I had over those few months without thinking about how it ended abruptly when my mum died. Without the guilt around her death creeping in and weighing me down. Without me thinking about falling in love with Joel and how he broke my heart.

I’m about to read it a fourth time when a message from Miles pops up on the screen telling me it’s time to come back to the flat.

Miles. I remember where I am and prise myself out of the chair, my legs unsteady as I walk back on autopilot.

It’s dark when I get there, and I flick the lights on.

‘Hey, turn them off,’ says Miles, appearing at the end of the hallway. ‘Woah. You look like you’ve seen a ghost.’

‘I almost have,’ I whisper.

Miles takes my hand and leads me into the lounge. It’s dark in there too and he guides me to the sofa. He perches on the edge, sitting stiff and upright and it takes me a second to work out why. He’s wearing a tux, only it’s a little snug and it looks like it’s restricting his movements.

I scan round the room, there’s a blanket on the floor and there are scores of glasses housing lit tealights. Rose petals are scattered over the floor, and there’s the most delicious smell coming from the oven.

‘Did you do all this? It looks amazing.’

‘Yes.’ He straightens his bow tie. ‘I googled “romantic evenings in” and followed their recommendations.’

I can’t help but suppress a smile. Googling romance is such a typical thing for Miles to do. Still, he’s gone to a lot of effort to execute it beautifully.

‘I like your tux.’

‘It’s a little tighter than it used to be,’ he says, trying to tug it down. ‘We’re going to have a picnic inside and watch a movie. I’ve got some Camembert in the oven. I thought if I was going to do cheesy, we needed cheese.’

I splutter a laugh and I blink back a rogue tear.

‘Edie, what’s happened? Even in this light you look pale.’

‘I’m fine,’ I say, my voice wobbling. ‘I just received an unexpected email from someone.’

‘Who was it from?’