The only downside to this experience is that I have no one to share it with. My previous firsts were something I did with Dom by my side. He was my biggest supporter, as I was his. It makes me wonder whether he’s felt it too. Or if he’s already moved on, relieved at the second chance he’s been given by walking out of my life. As this thought buzzes around my head, attempting to hijack my positivity, I mentally swat it away. That’s part of my old life now. It’s locked away in a box and I’ve hurled the key so far into the sea of forgotten experiences, it can’t be opened again.

Back on track, and happy that I look the part, I grab my bag and head out of my apartment. When I emerge into the still morning air, I can’t help thinking that the spectacular sun for my first day is a good sign.

As I reach Sheepcote Street, the strip of road that separates the quiet of my residential area from the urban buzz, I receive my first reminder that I’m in a large city. The huge modern commercial buildings of Brindley Place stand regally, like huge chess pieces, and heavy traffic signals that the morning rush is very much in progress.

I cross the road and make my way to the main plaza of Brindley Place, experiencing the same bubbly, energised feeling I’ve had each time I’ve walked through it over the last few days. The design of the space, the splashing of the fountains and the cafe situated in the centre all give it a bit of a European feel. Just beyond the water features, there’s a cluster of bars and eateries, housed in more traditional, red-brick buildings. And beyond that, an entry point to Birmingham’s canal network with its fascinating reminders of the city’s industrial heritage: the old cranes used to unload narrowboats, the charming cast-iron bridges, and the renovated canal house, now a pub, but with its beautiful original features retained. An open-air warren of pathways just itching to be explored. It’s an area that’s already stolen my heart. I just know I’m going to love living here.

For a moment, I just stand and take in the large office block that is home to my new employer. It’s about eight storeys high, with a glass-fronted facade made up of individual floor-to-ceiling windows that allow passers-by to see the workers at their desks. Taking a final deep breath to ground myself, I walk inside and approach the reception desk.

‘Good morning, madam. May I help you?’ an attractive blond woman wearing a headset greets me.

I give her my most confident smile. ‘Hello, yes, please. My name is Alex Morton. It’s my first day at Fletcher & Co. I’ve to ask for Emmanuel Akintola.’

The woman types something into her computer at lightning speed.

‘Perfect. Just give me a second and I’ll call her.’ She punches a number into her desk phone and waits for an answer. ‘Ms Akintola? Hello, it’s Lara from reception. I have Alex Morton here waiting for you… OK, great, thank you.’ She disconnects the call and returns her attention to me. ‘Just take a seat. Ms Akintola will be down shortly.’