She would stay in Paris for three weeks, maybe four, then travel to Cologne, and Kraków. She would learn about a world outside of Flynn House and Bristol, outside of England. She would teach herself how to be happy.

But her knowledge of the world was limited, and arriving at Norwich Airport alone felt daunting. She headed straight for the bar. Knocked back two vodkas. This was going to be harder than she thought.

By the time she climbed up the metal steps of the plane, surrounded by couples and families heading off on holiday, her heart was giving out warnings, and Hugh’s voice whispered in her head, ‘What the hell are you doing, Verity?’

But as the plane rumbled down the runway, and took off into the blue sky, something happened inside of her. A strong feeling engulfed her: hope. She’d never felt it before, but maybe – just maybe – she was leaving the worst of her life behind her.

*

Three months had passed since Verity left the UK. She hadn’t made any friends, not really. A few drunken nights with strangers in Paris, and Cologne, but that was it. It was her own fault, she suspected. She wasn’t great at letting anyone close. And although she’d left Flynn House miles behind her, the place was still there, inside her head, crushing any attempt to move on. She’d been wrong to be positive, hopeful. She didn’t deserve happiness.

She clicked her seatbelt across her lap, and looked out through the round window next to her. The plane would soon land in Kraków. Would Poland be any different? Would she ever be able to let go of her past? Let go of Hugh?

Kraków Airport was tiny, no more than a shed – so much smaller than the airports in England, France and Germany. She’d read somewhere that the airport had once been a military site. She could only imagine how much better it would be for Poland when the new terminal was finished.

She queued for almost an hour for her passport to be checked, before a large woman in military uniform frisked her. By the time she was outside in the cool, autumn air, her holdall by her side, she desperately needed a drink.

Without thinking, still not used to cars being driven on the right, she stepped out into oncoming traffic. A Lada almost hit her, and the driver hooted as she jumped back onto the pavement.

A taxi took her to the main market square, where she bought a bagel from a cart, from an old woman wearing a headscarf. There were a few decent, cheap hotels, and Verity booked a room in one of them for two weeks.

Once showered, she pulled on a black sweatshirt, jeans and low-heeled boots, and headed out once more.