Jack is fully supportive to me as ever and immediately drops the subject without a fuss. He gets up from the sofa and to lighten the mood he does his best embarrassing dance, a quick step mixed with a moonwalk, which has us all in stitches.

‘OK, ladies and gentlemen!’ he says. ‘I’m now taking requests for the cheesiest tunes you can think of. What do you fancy? Speak now or forever hold your peace!’

‘Steps!’ says Sophie without even having to pause for thought and Harry lets out a groan which comes from the very tips of his toes, but Sophie is already on her feet, poised and ready for action with her glass in her hand.

‘Oh mate, what have you started?’ Harry asks, rubbing his head as if in agony at the thought of it. He pretends to block his ears seconds later when the bouncy sounds of ‘5,6,7,8’ pumps out through the speakers, but before long he’s on his feet too, full-on ‘boot scootin’ baby’ joining in on the fun, and the four of us line dance around our living room with the coffee table pushed back to make extra space, where we belly laugh and dance our legs off into the wee hours of the morning.

I’m with my favourite people who know and love me, I’m laughing and having fun, and any thoughts of Tom Farley are finally fading away as time passes by.

I want to be nowhere else but here, right now, loving and living in every moment.

Chapter Thirteen

Sundays have always been my favourite day of the week, but I’m fast coming to realize that summer Sundays spent outside the beautiful town of Ardara are going to be even more special.

Waking up to the sweet sound of silence, as opposed to the hum of traffic and horns in city life, then taking it easy over a locally produced breakfast on the deck where the sun hits your shoulders is the stuff of dreams and I inhale every moment.

‘I’ll get some more coffee,’ I say to the three pale faces before me.

Sophie and Harry vow to leave after breakfast, but each are nursing hangovers from hell so a delay is inevitable. All four of us are still full of giddy laughter about different parts of the night before, with the highlight being Jack’s attempt at stand-up comedy after too many gin and tonics. It meant the only person who understood his jokes was him, due to his fits of hysterics every time he tried to reach a punchline.

‘My jaws are sore laughing,’ says Sophie, as she attempts to tackle the sausage, egg and bacon on her plate. ‘I wonder how much longer we can get away with acting like teenagers on the weekends. I mean, if some of your patients heard the shite you come out with at the weekend, Jack Malone, they’d run a country mile!’