I busy myself by filling the chrome kettle, which Jack and I chose after I moved in here with him a month ago, then I push my hair back from my face, run my hands under the cold tap and dab my cheeks to cool the flush I feel.

‘He isn’t over you, Charlotte,’ Emily whispers from behind me. ‘His latest girlfriend looks exactly like you! That could have been you.’

It could have been me. It should have been me if I’d given our love more of a chance. Whatever happened to my big New Year resolution that time when I pledged to take more risks? He waited for me for longer than I even expected him to and now we’re living in polar opposite worlds. I’m going one way, he is going the other.

‘When did you last hear from him?’ asks Emily.

I look out onto the leafy green views of Merrion Square, one of Dublin’s largest and grandest Georgian gardens, where I can see in the distance the famous statue of Irish poet and playwright Oscar Wilde leaning so dramatically back on a huge stone.

I love this view, but I hate myself for hurting right now. I haven’t felt hurt over Tom in months and months now, yet even though it makes me sad to see him with his new girlfriend, it also makes me so happy and proud to see him enjoying success he would never have had if he’d hung around Dublin to be with me.

‘I knew that he …’ I gasp. ‘I knew he had a new band called Blind Generation and that they’d signed with Sony or some other big name. I knew from checking Google, but then I stopped looking because I couldn’t bear to see him get on with his life without me. I’m so pleased for him, Emily. I’m happy for him, but it’s hard to look at that photo, sorry.’

I feel Emily’s arm around my waist. She leans her head on my shoulder.

‘If you can’t be with him, and it upsets you in any way, you did the right thing to block anything to do with him,’ she says to me. ‘Gosh, I knew I shouldn’t have shown you that stupid picture. Me and my big mouth! Has he been in touch with you at all?’

I look up at the ceiling and breathe out.

‘He messages me sometimes,’ I confess to my sister. Her face drops in shock. ‘Not every day or every week, not even once a month, but just sometimes.’

‘Oh dear,’ says Emily.