I refused to see this as a metaphor for life. I gathered up the photos, shoved them back into the album, opened my laptop and Googled properties in Deal.

That winter of 2019 would turn out to be the warmest and wettest on record. There was no sign of snow, or even a frost; my nasturtiums hadn’t yet dissolved into slime. I thought of Angie, and her fears about climate change. Her campaigning for Extinction Rebellion now struck me as both courageous and intelligent. She’d done her best, little knowing that she herself would soon become extinct. I thought of Calvin, standing on tiptoe to look through his prison bars and only seeing the driving rain. Their story played over and over in my mind. I dreamed it at night.

And around me, my house closed down. Once I’d decided to leave, the rooms withdrew, as a person does when they know a relationship is over. It was no longer my home.

I didn’t do much clearing out, partly from inertia and partly because I had plenty of time. That’s what I thought, anyway. Once we’d exchanged in January, the sale would be secure and I’d get a removal firm to put everything into storage while I rented somewhere in Deal and started seriously looking for a house to buy. Maybe something would crop up sooner and I’d make an offer, who knew? I was becoming addicted to property websites and became as intimate with people’s rooms as they were themselves. Many in Deal had a nautical theme—watercolours of sailing boats, and the obligatory wooden seagull in the window. My spirits skittered between terror, excitement and dread at the monumental task ahead of me. I lost weight and couldn’t sleep.

‘It’s not too late to change your mind,’ said Rachel. It was the first week in December and we were having lunch. Rachel was one of my few remaining friends who still lived nearby; we’d bumped into each other at the post office and she’d invited me home. ‘I’m not sure that now’s the best time for you to make decisions.’ She passed me a bowl of soup. ‘I mean, what with all you’ve been through, you poor love, first Greg and then Calvin.’

I willed her not to say, You’re so brave.

She put her hand on mine. ‘Actually, Pru, to tell the truth, I envy you. Being utterly free, able to do anything and go anywhere. Not listening to someone blathering away and asking when’s suppertime. Jim’s in Scotland till Friday and, honestly, I’m loving every moment.’

‘It’s not the same!’ I snapped. ‘You know it’s not. It’s utterly different when you know it’s only temporary and the person’s coming back. It’s like working in a chicken-gutting factory but only for the summer holidays.’