Perhaps I had a little of my own delayed shock, even though I had received nothing more than a small bump on the head – even a small bump was anxiety-provoking for me, given my medical history. In truth, I was a little disappointed Matty hadn’t made more of a fuss of me once we got home and all at once I, too, was exhausted by the events of a day that had begun so ordinarily, with a chest of drawers and making coffee for my mum; with a short drive and a conversation about a haircut – perhaps I was exhausted by my own sudden understanding. I loved this man who had come into my life, loved his unpredictability and his strange moods and his sudden weaknesses, and it was always going to be difficult, because if you were going to love someone who dealt with life and death and whose day was a constant round of dramas and adrenaline, then you had to go with the flow, their flow, that much was obvious to me now. You couldn’t use your own small dramas to compete with their ups and downs. It was like being on a boat that was being lifted and dropped by the swell of the sea. You just had to point your bow into the rise of the wave and go with it.

I was proud of myself for bringing that metaphor to mind. I’d learnt the thing about waves on a sea-kayaking trip with a group of friends from my BA Education course, a weekend adventure I had agreed to, rashly, in a spirit of feel-the-fear-and-do-it-anyway. I had hated every minute, particularly the journey back, as the swell of the sea grew beneath us. You mustn’t panic, when the sea starts to swell, and you must never let the waves take you broadside, you’ll flip over. Be brave, point your bow into an oncoming swell, and ride it even if it takes the bow of your boat upwards until it points at the sky. I was frightened then and I was frightened now, but I was a thirty-five-year-old secondary teacher – I’d had enough of life being ordinary and I couldn’t afford to take six months off and visit Australia or India. Matty was going to be my adventure instead.

How fine is hindsight. Perhaps I didn’t think any of this at the time, as I watched Matty sleep and dreamed that if I stayed with him I would be protected in a car crash. Perhaps all I thought was, yes, this one. Him. Perhaps, as a woman who didn’t have a driving licence and couldn’t climb a tree or ski or perform any action that relied on balance, I was just too easily impressed by physical competence. Do we ever really know why we decide on one person rather than another?