‘Thanks.’ She does the same in return. ‘This might take a while.’

‘In that case, I’ll just nip to the loo. Back soon.’

Emmanuel signals her understanding as I turn in the direction of the ladies’ toilets. Weaving my way across the busy bar, I feel a tap on my own shoulder. Assuming I’ve inadvertently stood on someone or knocked their drink, I turn round ready to apologise. But instead of an angry punter, I find myself face to face with Matt from the train. Gorgeous Matt, who, despite being someone I can’t date, gives me a heartstopping moment the second we make eye contact.

‘Oh… hi.’ I smile at him awkwardly. ‘Fancy meeting you here. Wouldn’t have thought this would be your regular after-work haunt.’

‘It’s not.’ His dark chocolate eyes feel like they’re boring through to my soul, searching for answers as to why I didn’t get in touch. ‘But my factory’s local is full of old men talking about horse racing and playing card games. Not really my scene. We – the younger crowd – prefer to come into the city centre. Plenty of good places around.’

‘Fair enough.’

He watches me for a moment. ‘You never called.’

‘No, I didn’t, did I.’ I cringe a little.

‘Find yourself another tour guide?’

He looks a mixture of curious and slightly hurt. I’m unsure whether this is just a joke, or whether he’s asking if I’ve met someone else. He’s certainly a bit more forthcoming today than he was on the train platform. I eye the pint in his hand, wondering how many he’s had.

‘I… err… no. Just found my own way around.’ I look around me uncomfortably. ‘It’s been a busy few weeks with getting settled, you know how it is.’

‘I guess I do.’ He seems to read an unintentional hidden message in my response. ‘Well, I won’t keep you.’

‘OK, sure. See you around.’

I feel guilty but also mildly relieved that I can continue on my way. I glance at him as I move away. He simply shrugs, a defeated look on his face, and turns back to his workmates. By the time I reach the toilets, I feel a bit flustered. How did that even happen? I’d assumed I’d never see Matt again – Birmingham is supposed to be enormous, after all.

I lean on the sink, gazing at my reflection in the mirror, as I try to calm myself. So I bumped into a guy I dissed. So what? It’s not like that hasn’t happened before. What’s wrong with me? Actually, I know what’s wrong with me. If this had been before I got ill, I would have called him. We would’ve gone out on a date and who knows what might have happened next. What’s wrong with me is that I didn’t call Matt, not because I didn’t like him or because of my recent break-up, but because of my MS. Because it would have ended badly. Again. If he knew the truth, he’d be glad of that fact. My fall outside earlier is proof of that. Much as it tears me in pieces to admit it, my body just can’t keep up with my aspirations and desires. I may have found a good enough compromise with my career, but men and dating, that’s a different playing field altogether.