I squint at her briefly and glance up at Jack but she doesn’t get my hint to shut up.

‘I heard someone behind us say exactly the same thing last night,’ says Jack as he serves up our breakfast. I pour some orange juice into each of our three glasses. My hand is shaking. I heard it too, of course. ‘He did say she’s married though, didn’t he? And he’s on the same path himself. I suppose life does move on. Nice of him to acknowledge her.’

Sophie tuts in disagreement.

‘If I were his fiancée I wouldn’t think it so nice!’ she says, grabbing a slice of toast before the toast rack even gets to the table. ‘It was a bit personal, wasn’t it? The newspapers are all over it today.’

I cough. I almost choke. I quickly take a drink of orange juice to try and disguise my shock at what Sophie just said. The newspapers? Jack sits down at the table, lifts his knife and fork and tucks in, while I almost have a heart attack beside him.

‘What – what do you mean, the newspapers?’ I ask Sophie.

‘Entertainment news, online and in the usual papers in the shops,’ she says. ‘They’re really going to town that a big megastar like Tom Farley had his heart broken by an ordinary Dublin girl and wrote a song for her. They say the song has hit the number one spot overnight.’

Jesus.

‘I suppose they’re just making a story of it, trying to find out who she is, but it’s great publicity for the band, and the song,’ she says. ‘Makes me think it was a set-up for that reason. The poor girl is probably just a normal woman on the school run this morning who doesn’t want or need the attention. Can you imagine? I’d die!’

My stomach is going round like a washing machine and I don’t know how on earth I’m going to manage to eat the lovely breakfast before me. Jack glances at my face and then at my plate.

‘Charlotte, you are really pale,’ he says. ‘Did you sleep OK, or are you feeling unwell? I’m not sure I should be leaving you like this. You’re not yourself at all.’

I shake my head and lift my knife and fork to try again but I can’t do it. I just can’t. I think I’m going to be sick.

‘I’m probably just tired,’ I say to him. ‘Sorry, babe, but I’ll pop this into the oven and have it later if you don’t mind. You know me, it takes me a while to come round in the mornings and I’m just not ready for it yet.’