I wonder what he’s wearing. I imagine he’ll wear jeans and a T-shirt, dark grey or black to show off his bulky arms and manly chest that makes all the ladies swoon.

Whatever it is he has planned, I hope I look OK for the occasion too. I scooped my hair into a messy bun before I left, carefully applied some mascara and blush and a sweep of pale pink lipstick to match the muted tones of the maxi dress and pale blue denim jacket I’m wearing in hope that the rain stays away, which is always a gamble in Ireland at this time of year.

I chose comfortable shoes, thinking how we might take the famous Cliff Walk together again beneath the moonlight, reminiscing about how much we’d planned when we last met up in the same place. We’d talk about how time and fate wasn’t on our side, but how we’ve found each other again for the third time in our lives. Third time lucky, he’ll joke to me, and we’ll share a moment knowing that this time, destiny is on our side.

My mind is running away with itself, I know it is, but this is the type of fantasy I’ve had for years and years, and now I’m about to face it head on to see if it all comes true.

I wonder will he think I’ve changed at all? I’ve so much to tell him about Matthew and how he’s found happiness with Martin, about my job at Holy Trinity and how I told old Miss Jean Brady to stuff her job (he’ll love that one!) and of my marriage to Jack of course.

Jack. I can’t think of Jack right now. I need to stay focused.

I glance at my reflection in the rear-view mirror. I’m thirty years old now, not the dewy-faced twenty-two-year-old student he fell for when we first sang together, or the besotted young woman I was when we met that night in the December snow.

I’ve changed, of course I’ve changed, and I’m sure he has too. I’ve grown up in so many ways, yet part of me, the part of my heart that I’ve saved for him, has somehow stayed the same. Even though I saw him on the big stage a little less than a week ago, I still imagine him as the gentle, endearing, beautiful soul whose tragic background made me love him even more. I don’t know what to expect when I see him up close again. I just hope I don’t make a fool out of myself when I do.

I get a rush just thinking about seeing him in a mix of pure unadulterated nerves and excitement, but also fear. What if I do still love him? What happens then?