‘You old hippy,’ he would laugh, when I would proudly show him my charity-shop finds. But at the same time he always looked perplexed. ‘You know, if your teacher’s salary won’t stretch, take my credit card. I don’t want our friends thinking my wife can’t afford new clothes.’

Now the boating shoes and button-downs are nowhere to be seen. Instead, when he came to pick up the rest of his things, he’d gone all Peaky Blinders and was sporting a tweed cap, a waistcoat and skinny ankle jeans. Only he was less Tommy Shelby and more fifty-year-old dentist with high blood pressure. Which was the reason why I’d encouraged him to take up Bikram yoga in the first place. Oh, the irony. It would have been funny, if it wasn’t my husband of ten years standing on the doorstep.

At least I think it was my husband. I barely recognized him. And I’m not talking just about his appearance.

‘You look tired.’

I zone back to see Madeleine peering at me.

‘Moving is tiring,’ I reply.

Why do people say that, when what they really mean is: you look awful?

‘Roger and I have been so worried about you,’ she continues, her head tilting sideways.

I shift uncomfortably. It’s the dreaded pity-tilt. Since news of our divorce broke, it’s how everyone looks at me these days.

‘Liv! You old tart!’

Well, not everyone. We’re suddenly interrupted by a figure scootering towards us on the pavement, waving.

‘Naomi!’ It’s totally unexpected. ‘What on earth are you doing here?’

‘Well, I couldn’t let you leave without saying goodbye.’ She grins, her dark eyes flashing as she hops off the scooter and hugs me, enveloping me in her big furry teddy coat. ‘It’s lunch break – no one’s going to miss me if I play hooky.’

I feel a burst of gratitude. ‘It’s so nice to see you.’

Naomi is one of the teachers from my old school and one of my closest friends. We met on my first day at Carlton Comprehensive. I’d been brought in as a support teacher to cover maternity for Year Nine English and was feeling nervous, but she immediately put me at ease, cracking raucous jokes in her strong Glaswegian accent. We share the same sense of humour and we’ve had a lot of fun together over the years.

‘I can’t believe you’re leaving me to deal with all the unruliness and disobedience by myself!’ she reprimands, letting me go. ‘And that’s only the teachers,’ she adds with a throaty laugh.

Handing in my notice had been tough, but in true Naomi style, she’s cheered me on, telling me I’m doing the right thing and making jokes about it being the Great Escape. ‘Just think, Liv, you’re finally getting out of here! No more having to sit through one of Godfrey’s godawful assemblies.’ Mr Godfrey was our headmaster and his famously dull assemblies had been known to literally put both teachers and pupils to sleep.

Still, underneath all the encouragement and joking, I know I wasn’t the only one finding it hard to say goodbye.