I stare at my reflection for a few moments longer, as if challenging it to disagree with me, then I let out an exasperated cry at the injustice of it all and head for one of the cubicles.

Returning to the main bar, I weave my way back through the groups of punters, this time taking a different route so I don’t bump into Matt again. Reaching Emmanuel, I can see that she’s now being served, so I excuse myself to the other people queueing as I slide my way through towards her.

‘Can you grab these?’ She hands me my drink and two bottles of beer, which I take by their necks in my other hand.

As we manoeuvre our way back out from the bar, I involuntarily stop and glance over to where Matt and his workmates are standing, immediately picking him out from the group. Sensing my eyes on him, he looks over and his eyes lock on mine, causing my stomach to perform a double backflip.

‘Is that someone you know?’ Emmanuel’s eyes follow my gaze. ‘He’s very handsome.’

‘Oh… err, yeah. Sort of.’ I drag my eyes away from Matt and focus my attention on her. ‘Just someone I met on the train.’

‘He looks like someone I’d be more than happy to meet on a train. Or any form of public transport, though don’t tell my husband I said that. Are you going to meet him again in any other circumstances?’

‘No. I don’t think that’s a good idea.’

‘All right… sure. That’s your prerogative.’

Emmanuel’s eyes narrow slightly and it’s clear she’s trying to read what’s really going on. Uncomfortable about taking the conversation any further, I look away and start making my way through the crowded bar again.

Chapter 15

The next couple of weeks pass uneventfully. In my new world of living with a life-changing illness, this is definitely a good thing. I get into a nice rhythm at work and my social life is quiet – it turns out my team only go out once a month, straight after payday – so I have plenty of downtime to rest and recuperate in the evenings and at weekends. This takes a bit of getting used to, my natural preference being to burn the candle pretty much anywhere it will burn.

So that I don’t expire from boredom or become a semi-permanent sofa accessory, I take up a membership at a leisure club just a ten-minute walk from my apartment. I’m still not able to pound the treadmill, so I start with some gentle swimming, having read online that it can be a good way of reducing MS-related fatigue. I also do some more exploring, so I’m knowledgeable enough as to what Birmingham has to offer in time for Sasha’s visit.

On the day of her arrival, I walk to work with what could almost be described as a spring in my step – or as close as I can get given that whenever I attempt a gradient beyond the pace of a tortoise, my body feels like it’s been hijacked by a ten-ton weight. The silver lining to that being, in the well-loved fable, the tortoise did eventually beat the hare. This appeals to my go-getter instinct.