‘This is Pete. He was my sister’s… well, he’s my best friend and he gave me a lift.’

‘Good to meet you, mate,’ Finn said warmly. They sauntered to the chip shop, which was mercifully quiet, and ordered large portions of fish and chips smothered in salt and vinegar with cans of Coke to wash it all down. ‘My treat,’ she said as she reached into her pocket to pay. It was the least she could do since she was the common denominator here. It was just lovely to be spending the New Year with them both.

They managed to find an empty bench on the bridge and chatted happily while they ate their takeaways, waiting for the New Year to be rung in with an explosion of fireworks filling up the sky over the city centre. It felt good, relaxed and comfortable, as if they’d all been friends forever.

Liv almost jumped when she heard the first firework going off over their heads. Once they’d finished eating, they walked to the bridge to get a better view. Again this year, it felt as if they had the whole show to themselves, until Liv looked down and saw a woman, oddly familiar, on the towpath beneath them.

With Finn’s arm around her and Pete at her side, she’d felt a warm glow of belonging trace around the edges of these steadily deepening bonds between them. Watching each burst of colour fill the air, until the penultimate blast, two golden rockets, flying up, high, up and up so by the time they exploded into their full glory, she and Finn were standing with their heads almost trained backwards, their mouths open, awestruck. The rockets had stayed together, most of the way, and she had thought at first, they were just like her and Pete, and she had grabbed for his hand to let him know that he was not alone. But he was not there; instead, he had bent over the side of the bridge, his eyes trained on the woman who stood on the towpath below.

The rockets stayed side by side all this time, but then one seemed to go off course. It took what looked like an early nosedive and ended up the less spectacular finale, while its sister rode higher in the sky, its trail seemingly endless until at last it exploded, filling the entire sky with golden lights. It was, she realised, her and Rachel. She was that final rocket; she needed to light up the world for two. From here on, she would light up the world for two.

Then another, the final firework. She knew it, somewhere deep in her bones; this was the finale. It was a long green array of explosions, shooting up first and then across the sky – a trail of shooting stars.