It was bittersweet, of course – it always is when I take myself back across the Pond, both literally and metaphorically. Because as much as I try to remember the happier times, I only ever have a few seconds, a minute at most, before my world comes crashing down around me again.

‘Hey,’ I say, ushering her in. ‘How are you today?’

‘Oh,’ she says, shrugging her shoulders despondently. ‘You know . . .’

‘Here, sit down,’ I say, conscious that she sounds even more troubled than she normally does. ‘Is everything OK?’

She falls down heavily on the sofa and the world feels like it’s falling with her. ‘I just don’t know how much longer I can carry on like this,’ she says meekly, as if she’s frightened of her own voice.

‘What do you mean?’ I ask, leaning across the coffee table to steady her shaking hands.

‘I just . . . I just can’t imagine going through the rest of my life without him,’ she cries. ‘I mean, how is any mother supposed to do that?’

Her shoulders convulse and I move around to sit beside her on the couch.

‘Because you have no other choice,’ I say, softly but assertively. ‘You have two other children who rely on you.’

She nods. ‘If it weren’t for them, I would have done something a long time ago.’

‘That may be so, but you have to think about them now. They’re your priority – they’ve already lost their little brother. How will they ever recover from losing their mother as well? You’re their world.’

‘But I just can’t . . . we can’t go on like we are. Nick and I can barely even look at each other. We don’t talk any more. We certainly don’t laugh. How is that right? We’ve gone from being the perfect, happy family to just existing in two hollowed-out shells, shuffling through life as if we’re on autopilot. How is that fair on the children?’

‘It isn’t,’ I say. ‘But you’re all still together and that says a lot about your resilience and strength. Most couples would have buckled if they’d lost their child in such tragic circumstances. You’re stronger than you give yourself credit for.’

‘But what are we doing it for?’ she asks, her tear-filled eyes looking at me imploringly. ‘What are we trying to prove? Do we want other people to look at us and say, “Ah, haven’t they done well?” Is that more important to us than being stuck in an empty marriage? Does what other people think mean more than our own happiness?’

‘Are you saying you’d be happier on your own?’ I ask.

‘But I wouldn’t be on my own, would I? I’d have my children with me and they’d be free of the toxic environment that my marriage has created.’

‘Do you think the children are conscious of that?’ I ask.