And yes, I’ve had a few drinks, so maybe that’s helping. But I don’t have time to think about it, as the band begins playing and Naomi and I are dancing and saying, ‘Why don’t we dance any more?’ at the top of our voices, with big grins on our faces. And now Mr Bishop – ‘call me Alan’, and head of geography – has somehow shuffled into the middle of us and my radar might be completely off, but I think he’s trying to flirt with me by telling me all about climbing the highest peaks in the Lake District while staring at my cleavage.

And now, thankfully, I’m being rescued by the arrival of the birthday cake and we’re all singing ‘Happy Birthday’, and Naomi is blowing out the candles and I’m feeling all emotional, but in a good way. Because I love my friend and our friendship and how far we’ve come; and it strikes me that I might actually love my life again. And just when I think it can’t get any better, Danny gets down on one knee, pulls out a ring and asks Naomi to marry him. And she says, ‘Yes, of course, you silly arse,’ and everyone starts cheering and clapping.

And that’s when I lose it. Turns out I like surprises when they’re for other people.

‘Naomi!’ I shriek, throwing my arms around her in congratulations when I can finally reach her through all the well-wishers. ‘This is amazing! The best news!’

‘Really?’

‘Yes, really!’

We hug each other, both of us teary-eyed. We have drunk quite a lot. I glance over to the bar, where an elated Danny is being congratulated by his band members, then turn back to Naomi. I’m expecting her to look elated too, but her eyes are anxious.

‘What’s wrong?’ I lower my voice, suddenly worried. ‘Don’t you want to get married?’

As I said, surprises can be scary things – there’s the pressure to react in a certain way. To say ‘I do’ when you don’t.

‘Yes, of course. I love him. Ellie loves him too.’

A wave of relief.

‘I was worried about you.’

‘Me?’

‘You don’t mind me getting married?’

‘What? Because I got divorced?’ I snort, then realize she’s serious. ‘No of course not, silly, I’m happy for you.’

But Naomi looks troubled. ‘You’re not just doing that thing where you’re pretending to be really happy? Like I used to feel when women at work would announce their pregnancies. I’d be happy for them, but dying inside.’ Her dark eyes meet mine.

‘I’m really happy,’ I repeat firmly. ‘Truly.’

‘Thank you.’ She reaches for my hand and gives it a grateful squeeze. ‘And I promise not to have a hen party.’

‘Well, now I’m elated,’ I say, and we both laugh and spend the next five minutes goggling at her ring, which is Art Deco and beautiful. Who knew Danny was such a traditionalist?

Or that, only six months ago, grief and loss threatened to swamp me. That I feared this heart of mine had been so bashed and broken, it would never heal. But watching Naomi and Danny together makes me realize that: you know what? My heart might still be a bit bruised and ragged around the edges, but it works fine. I still believe in love. And that makes me extraordinarily happy.