‘I think it’s brill. I’ve no doubt you’ll turn it into something amazing.’ She hands me back my phone. ‘So, other than the wedding planning, how’s this all affecting you and Dom?’

‘It’s been mixed.’ I reach across to the coffee table and take a sip from my glass of water. ‘When they first gave me the news, I was in total denial and he was just so solid. He was like: it’s you and me, and we do this together, no matter what. It really helped me come to terms with things.’

‘That’s good. I’ve always wished I could meet someone like Dom. He’s such a great guy.’

‘Yeah, he is. His heart is definitely in the right place. It’s just… difficult adjusting, you know? Particularly when his head’s so wrapped up in my illness and when and how it might strike again. He’s treating me like an invalid, though I’ve just made it clear that he needs to let me be me, so I’m hoping that’ll change.’

‘Did you ask your doctor about how to handle it?’

‘We did.’ I nod. ‘We spoke to the consultant. He said I can help myself by living healthily, which I’m trying to do anyway. But in terms of relapses, it’s like trying to predict the lottery numbers, so there’s no point in putting so much focus on it.’

‘I suppose.’ Sasha chews her lip for a second, showing me that she’s not totally convinced by this. ‘And what about work?’

‘Same strategy.’ I grimace. ‘It’s killing me that Alan’s been put in charge of the project while I’m off. He’s a good guy and capable, but he’s not quite there yet. I really hope Laura’s giving him the support he needs, otherwise I could go back to a complete car crash.’

‘That’s the last thing you’ll need on your return. Hopefully you won’t be off long enough for him to cause too much damage.’

‘I really hope not, Sash. Not least, because I don’t have the patience to be stuck like this for too long.’

Chapter 7

‘This just doesn’t feel right,’ I complain, as I slowly extricate myself from the front passenger seat of the car. ‘I shouldn’t be out doing our menu tasting while I’m signed off work. What if someone sees me?’

‘No one’s going to see you.’ Dom closes the car door behind me and locks the car. ‘We’re going straight into the hotel and straight back home again, and your mum explained how important it is to test the food well in advance to allow for changes.’

‘Yeah, and she’s right about everything,’ I mutter, earning myself a look.

The gusty wind whips playfully around me, lifting my skirt and plastering my hair to my Candy Kiss lip butter. This is Scottish weather in its full glory. After a rare two weeks of uninterrupted sunshine and warm spring days, a stormy weather front has brought a never-ending dusk and teeth-chattering highs of seven degrees Centigrade.

In front of us, the Eastwood Hotel, a beautifully renovated Victorian building, looms ominously in the half-light, surrounded by thick, rolling dark clouds like a scene from Ghostbusters. It’s such a contrast to how it looked on the day we first visited, if I were superstitious, I’d think this were a sign.