I’m getting a bit gushy and personal but it’s not like I’m talking to a complete stranger, even if he has been catapulted into the stratosphere of fame since I last spoke to him. I contemplate writing ‘the song you wrote for me’ but I get a last-minute panic in case it wasn’t even about me in the first place. I know it was. I’m just nervous. Anyhow …

I was hoping maybe, if you’re still in Dublin, we could have a quick catch-up just to say hello? It would be lovely to meet you and your fiancée Ana.

I immediately delete that line. It would not be lovely to meet his fiancée Ana. Not one bit. In fact right now I can’t think of anything worse than meeting her. I couldn’t give a monkey’s about his fiancée, no harm to her. I’m sure, being a supermodel, she’s drop-dead gorgeous and a lovely person all round, but that’s not what I need to be faced with now. Call me insecure, it’s just not.

I’ve put my number below – no pressure, but if you’re about, give me a call or text and I’ll do my best to come see you before you head off on your travels again.

I’m so proud of you, Tom. I think I’ve said that before, but I am.

All the best,

Charlie x

I press send. And then I wait. And then I wait more.

The hours tick by and I finally realize that staring at my phone while horizontal on the sofa is not going to make him reply any quicker, if at all.

So I make tea. I watch some trashy daytime television. I have a bath. I scour the internet for jobs. I even apply for a job that is too geographically far away for me to contemplate, but anything to keep my mind busy and my fingers from checking my phone or refreshing my emails.

In the evening I watch back-to-back soap operas. I haven’t watched soap operas since I was living at home in Loughisland where it was like some sort of religion to keep up to date with all in soap-land, but I find myself catching on to the storylines and characters like it was yesterday. My aunt Bridie would be proud of me.

I binge-watch Netflix. I go to the shops and stock up on food I don’t want and will probably never get round to eating, and that I’m not even sure I like. The early evening turns into night and I eventually lie in bed, wondering what exactly I’m hoping to gain from this meeting, should it ever miraculously happen.