I’m a little bit in love with old me; she’s feisty and uncompromising, and, for a minute, I feel like I’ve just had one of those conversations with one of my girlfriends. The ones that are like pep talks that gee me up and make me think I can take over the world. Like when I used to talk to Soph or Joel back in the day.

My eyes linger on the note to self to be bold and be brave. Back when you’re eighteen, everything seems possible, but when you grow up, you realise that it’s not so easy.

I might have filed the first email into my archive, but I haven’t been able to archive my thoughts as easily and I’ve started to think about the woman I used to be, the one who listened to what I wanted, and the one who really believed that there weren’t walls around comfort zones. It’s made me realise that I’ve hidden behind a routine and work for the last seventeen years, trying to keep out all of these memories, all of this thought and hurt. Just reading that new email reminds me how alive I used to be and it makes me wonder if maybe, just maybe, a little bit of that old me is still inside.

Before I can stop myself, I dig out the leaflet Claudia gave me about the charity and I type out a quick email letting her know that I’m interested in finding out more. I hit send before I can change my mind.

I stand up, full of nervous energy about what I’ve just done, and head to the kitchen. Layla’s there washing some of the cups up and Yas is drying them and they’re laughing.

‘Oh, hi, Edie,’ says Yas, looking up as I walk in. She’s trying to compose herself and Layla’s giggling away. ‘Sorry, I was just filling Layla in on us getting through the first round of the play-offs; Aaron and Dave were pretending to be a pantomime horse.’

She finishes the drying up and puts the cups away.

‘I heard you made it to the next round. I’m thrilled for you.’

‘Yes, let’s hope we can beat last year’s place when we got knocked out in the third round. You’ll have to both come and see us.’

‘Yes, we’ll have to try and organise something,’ I say.

‘Do,’ she says before she heads out.

‘You’re working late tonight, no school pick-up?’ I say to Layla as I fill the kettle with water.

‘No, Tim’s mum is staying for a few days.’

‘Ah, that’s why you’re here over your hours.’

She pulls a face. ‘It’s not that I don’t like her, it’s just that I like to give her quality time with her precious grandchildren.’