The phone calls stopped. The emails stopped. And in the meantime, Dr Jack who had coaxed my brother into a wheelchair in public for the first time, who read inspirational books aloud to him when off duty, who sat with him when he cried and held up a pillow for him to feebly punch out his frustration, became more and more involved in my daily life.

And now my parents are mad about him and I might quite like him too. And deep in the back of my mind is that Matthew ended up in a wheelchair because of me and Tom Farley but, because of Dr Jack Malone, he is learning to live with it.

In some strange way, being with Jack helps to ease the guilt I’ve held onto since this whole sorry accident happened, and for the first time in a long while, my parents, it seems, are proud of me. I have a place in the family that extends beyond my title as a teacher, or the quirky baby of the house. I am Charlotte, the caring one who is seeing Dr Jack Malone, the man who will be forever credited with getting my ailing brother back on track at long last. I have a well-respected, reliable man by my side with no turbulent historical connection to my family. Something I could never have had with Tom, so I’m on the right path at last and the guilt I’ve been feeling is slowly settling, or at least simmering for now.

‘Are you sure your parents want me to join them for Christmas dinner?’ Jack asks me as we sit across from each other on the train later that evening. We’re on our way to meet some of his friends in Dun Laoghaire (pronounced Dun Leary), a vibrant, cultural harbour village on the south side of Dublin city where Sarah and Harry Darling live. I hope they aren’t as fancy as their names suggest.

‘Of course I’m sure!’ I tell him, laughing as I picture how flustered my mother will be when serving him his turkey and ham next weekend. ‘You’re definitely a hero in our family right now. In fact, I’ve never seen my parents so excited. The preparations are already underway.’

‘That’s sweet of them,’ he says, rubbing his chin. ‘They’ve been very kind to me, way beyond the call of duty. I was only ever doing my job with your brother.’

I look at him knowingly. He’s done so much more than just his job. He’s been a guiding light in Matthew’s recovery since he came on board shortly after I bumped into him that day in the café. I’ve developed a deep friendship and admiration for this young doctor who treated us all with such care and attention, managing always to shine some positivity and hope in Matthew’s darkest days.