‘Oh crap.’ I look at my phone. Yes, it’s 10 a.m. already, time for our weekly features meeting.

‘Can I come in?’

‘How do you know I’m not doing a poo?’ Colin and I have this type of oversharing relationship. We’ve become quite close friends over the years; he often plays a role in cheering me up or lightening the mood and I have been there to listen to his terrible dates with awful men.

He laughs gently. ‘Oh babe, I could hear you crying from outside.’

‘OK.’ I sniff. I let Colin in and he wraps me up in a big hug.

‘Are you OK? Is it Gill? Is she being horrible?’

‘No … no. It’s … me and Jacob. We have … well, I have … ended things.’ I sniff.

‘Oh no. I’m so sorry.’

‘It’s OK.’

‘Is it … OK?’

‘No, not really.’ I wipe my nose. ‘I mean, I just can’t stop crying. I’ve been coming in these loos for a sob every day since it happened; can’t believe no one’s noticed yet.’

‘Do you wanna talk about it?’

‘Maybe soon. Not feeling up to it right now.’

‘I get it. Don’t worry. Shall I tell Gill you’ve got something else on? I’m sure she’ll understand.’

‘Actually, that would be great, yes please. Thank you. I just need a bit more time in here, getting myself together.’

‘Of course.’ Colin squeezes my hand and gives a sympathetic smile.

Grief can knock you sideways. I miss Jacob so much. I feel almost sick at how much I could do with a hug from him right now. I’m constantly trying to fight back tears. I can’t imagine anyone ever loving me in the same way. Or seeing me naked, for that matter.

After another thirty minutes, sobbing and squeezing out tears, I look in the bathroom mirror and blot away at my face with toilet roll, removing any signs of dampness. Then I apply more kohl liner around my eyes. Since the break-up I’ve felt so worried that we’ve made the wrong choice by ending it. I guess this is being human: we can never be 100 per cent sure about any decision we make.

Jacob moved out ‘officially’ only recently, after living in his brother Sam’s spare room for a month. The idea was that we’d try living apart at first as some sort of ‘break’. But it sounded a lot like a break-up from the start. It’s been the shittiest time of my entire life. I am stewing in it, sitting in the negativity and depression like a big squishy chair that I can’t get out of. Every meal I cook reminds me of him. Everything on TV. Even replacing the loo roll or making the bed in the morning. Everything. I wish I could just delete everything and start again, like picking a brand-new player in a video game.

I leg it out of the office at 5.30 on the dot, itching to get to tonight’s dinner. I desperately need to feel the safety net of my best pals, who will allow me to rant and shout and cry and snot bubble. That’ll make me feel better. They have always stood up for me. Once, back in the day when you could still smoke inside, they all tapped ash on my ex-boyfriend Billy’s head on the dance floor. He was a horrible, verbally abusive arsehole. All the ash just piled up in his hair while he danced. I bet it stank for days.