She gazes at me with a demeanour to rival Mother Teresa and I feel myself gag a little. I can think of nothing worse than a life at the mercy of my mother and sister: my own personal eternal hell. But I was ready for this overprotective and patronising behaviour. Glancing across at Sasha, who gives me an encouraging smile, I take a deep breath to ensure I respond in a calm and composed manner.

‘Mother, Carol, I understand you have concerns. That is natural. You’ve been a great support to me and I do appreciate that very much. But you have your lives to live, and I have mine—’

‘Alex, you’re talking as if you’ve sprained your ankle,’ my mother interrupts. ‘This is MS we’re talking about, a degenerative autoimmune disease that will slowly destroy your body, bit by bit.’

‘I’m aware of that. Though I’m not sure you need to be quite so graphic.’

‘But it’s the reality of this, Alex,’ Carol pitches in. ‘Mum, it’s OK, I can see what’s going on here. This is textbook denial and exactly the kind of behaviour we can expect.’

My mother’s face blooms with realisation and relief. ‘Oh, you are quite right, Carol, which means why didn’t we think of this before… we need to—’

‘Get Alex a counsellor to help her work through this.’

As I watch them wind each other up, I suddenly feel exhausted. Though I expected this kind of ridiculous behaviour, I felt more prepared for it in my head. Now, here, in the brightly lit restaurant, with the waiting staff bustling around me, I feel my composure start to slip. I steal a look towards Sasha and instantly regret doing so – she’s reflecting back similar concern. I take a moment to arrange my thoughts, then straighten up in my chair and push my plate away from me.

‘Mother, Carol, once again, I appreciate your concern. But I’ve considered this very carefully, and it’s something I’m going to do, I’m afraid to say: whether you like it or—’

‘But it’s totally absurd, Alex.’ My mother’s tone is dismissive. ‘If you can’t see that then you’re obviously—’

John places a calming hand on my mother’s shoulder, silencing her. ‘Isabel, how about you let Alex explain?’

My mother flinches, clearly unhappy at the suggestion, but she stays quiet. Carol looks like she’s ready to let loose again, but she respects John’s request.

‘Thank you.’ I give them all an appreciative smile. ‘Before my diagnosis, I was flying high. I was acing my career, getting married, everything was amazing…’

I suddenly feel a swell of emotion in my throat and I swallow aggressively to avoid showing any weakness that could be misconstrued.

‘Now, all that’s changed,’ I continue. ‘Because of a stupid diagnosis. If you both know me as well as you think you do, then you’ll understand that I can’t and won’t be defined by my MS. I’m ill, not ninety. I need my independence back and the only way to do that is to start afresh, somewhere I won’t be mollycoddled by generally well-meaning but overbearing, overprotective and highly risk-averse people.’