‘Well, you must remember that no decision is ever really the wrong decision. Because it’s the decision you made at the time. Respect your past self and her choices,’ she says, looking me directly in the eye.

‘You’re right Dorothy … I’m so sorry, but I must get going now …’

‘Off you dash then, Olive! Have a lovely day.’

She carries on watering and shuffling about with her walking stick. Humming to herself. There is something comforting about Dorothy. I have a feeling she’s seen and heard it all.

I’m wearing a white T-shirt under denim dungarees, gold hoop earrings and thin-framed glasses. A bit of mascara and blusher but no other make-up. My hair dried naturally this morning and so is curly at the ends. I smooth it down and pull it back into a low ponytail. I don’t want to make too much of an effort. It’ll only make me feel more on edge. I meet Jacob at the small French café at the end of my road. It is a small bricked building with the roof painted black on the corner of a busy road and has two big Birds of Paradise plants either side of the entrance. I love the modern black-and-white tiled floors, the bar with hundreds of different liqueurs and spirits, and the friendly staff who always make you feel like their only customer. Even if everything goes to shit with this meet-up, at least I can have a nice hazelnut latte in this place I like. Although, like most things in my neighourhood, it is now tainted by good and bad memories of Jacob. I know I have to start living with that, because the only other option to get him completely out of my mind would be to move to Japan or something.

I see that Jacob has already arrived and is perched on a stool at the window. He hasn’t noticed me yet. He’s wearing a dark brown leather jacket, jeans, and is sipping a water nervously. He makes eye contact with me before I can try to pretend I haven’t seen him, and waves at me sheepishly. I walk past the plants, and in through the main door, feeling his eyes still following me. Don’t trip over, Olive. That would be embarrassing. He is wearing a navy-blue shirt that I’ve not seen before. My heart definitely flutters a bit with familiarity and excitement, but then I suddenly feel a bruising pain immediately after. My brain kicks back into gear, reminding me that he is no longer mine. This man with whom I shared a bed, a flat and my deepest secrets for nearly a decade will, one day soon, become a stranger. It’s happening already. I project a horrible thought, imagining walking past him in ten years’ time and neither of us saying anything because we are so estranged. I feel overwhelmed at the sight of him, as though I could easily be physically sick. Why has he dragged me out here to meet him? How can he have changed so much in only a few months? New clothes, different hair? I used to know every single piece of clothing that hung in his wardrobe and on the washing line. How can someone become so alien so quickly? It’s like waking up from a sleepy dream where nothing is yet in focus and you momentarily forget where you are. Jacob is so close yet so far away now. I want everything to get back into focus, to make sense again.