‘Anna, we’ve made this.’ Josh’s dad hands me a scrapbook. I flick through it. It’s full of photos of teenage Adam, with mad frizzy hair and terrible clothes. He’s on a dance floor somewhere doing his John Travolta, Saturday Night Fever pose and I can’t help but laugh. There’s a cutting from the paper when his football team won an amateur league. His arm is looped around Josh’s neck and they are both grinning wildly at the camera. You’d think they had won the World Cup rather than a trophy so tiny I can hardly make it out. There are Adam’s A Level results; of course, he passed Geography with flying colours. The last page contains a photo achingly familiar. It is Adam and Josh raising a glass to the photographer. In the background, through the glass wall, I can see a plane. They are wearing shorts and T-shirts I recognize. I don’t need Josh’s parents to confirm that this was taken before they flew to Alircia.

‘We thought you might like to show it to Adam’s mum and dad when you reach Australia, so they can catch up on the years they missed,’ Josh’s mum explains.

‘Thank you.’ I am touched by the thought they’ve put into the scrapbook, and appreciate how painful it must have been to make. Adam’s passing must have felt like losing a son to them. I hug them both tightly before tucking the scrapbook inside my tote bag, which is crammed with nappies, wipes, teething gel and all the other paraphernalia a tiny person needs to travel. In my suitcase is an envelope of photos of the adult Adam. The first stop on our trip is his parents’ house so they can meet Harry, and I can affirm what an amazing, special man their son grew into. It was always such a source of sadness to Adam that they’d drifted apart. On the phone they’d sounded delighted I’d be coming.

‘We regret… we regret lots of things,’ his mum had said. ‘We shouldn’t have missed your wedding, for one, but perhaps most of all we regret not flying over for the funeral. I’ll dig out Adam’s baby photos before you come.’

I can’t wait to see those but can already imagine them. I see Adam every time I look at Harry’s face.

‘I’ve something for you too.’ Josh looks uncertain as he holds out a box. Inside, a watch.

‘It looks like Adam’s old—’

‘It is.’

I take a sharp intake of breath, lifting it from the box. ‘But how?’ How on earth had Josh managed to trace Adam’s grandad’s watch that he’d sold to buy my engagement ring?