I wanted to celebrate those last moments of sublime ignorance, allow myself a beautiful, pure night of hope. I wanted to be in a new and very special place. I’d read that there was a hotel in the avant-garde London skyscraper, the Shard. The major milestones in my life had always been celebrated with spectacular views. The Eiffel Tower, when I first met Matthew. The incredible hotel in Tokyo, to launch my son’s Book of Wonders adventure. A high-rise in the shape of a majestic shard would be the perfect conclusion. I treated myself to a royal suite. I put London at my feet.

I ordered a bottle of French wine, from Provence, where my family’s story had begun. Then I sat down at the desk of my unbelievable suite, and set about my unbelievable challenge. The last instructions that Louis had scribbled in his Book of Wonders were as simple to formulate as they were painful and complicated to execute. Especially at this point in my life. Especially at this moment in his life. It took me the entire night.

I avoided my son’s death by gazing at the lights. I laid out my future life on blank sheets of a luxury London hotel’s headed notepaper, and I included Louis in it. Furiously, frantically. One last time.

I remembered good things. I invented joys to come. I leapt into the unknown without a safety net. I laughed, I cried. I asked myself what woman I wanted to be. What I wanted to become – me, Thelma. What footprint I wanted to leave on this planet. I listened to myself. I asked myself what would make me happy. Truly happy. Forgetting everything that had governed my choices until now. Forgetting what society might expect of me. Forgetting what others might expect of me. I visualized it. I wrote it down. I stripped naked and faced myself. For the first time in my entire life. That night, I wrote my Book of Wonders. In the form dictated by Louis: a letter. I projected myself into a fantasy future. Which would probably never exist. Which might exist. It was a night of rare intensity.

At dawn, I looked up. I collected myself.

I avoid, but I always come back. When I’ve regained sufficient strength and courage, I pull myself together and confront. I bite, I fight.

I showered, put on my clothes from the previous day and clambered into a taxi to St Pancras. It was time for me to brave the storm.