Everything about Patrick was amplified now I knew that I’d somehow – whilst nobody was looking – developed feelings. I couldn’t do anything about it, and so I kept my distance physically as we navigated our way to the car. I steered conversation to the things we could see as we drove to the drop-off point, about thirty minutes away, so that we didn’t dance around anything that could be accused of being flirtatious. That was hard because we did naturally bounce off one another – exactly why it had been so great to see him at bootcamp, and how I’d ended up with the ill-advised crush in the first place – but now it was a minefield where I could embarrass myself at any moment by stepping over the line when it wasn’t warranted. I couldn’t figure out if the things he was doing were friendly or flirty. He’d open a car door for me and I’d think: Oh. Friendly. But then he’d do the thing where he saved a secret smile just for me, and I’d think: Flirty. Then he’d smile at our taxi driver or waiter or a random person with a nice dog on the street and I’d change my mind again: Friendly. He’s just friendly.

We headed upstream in our separate canoes from the launch spot the taxi dropped us at, gliding across the water past limestone cliffs that glistened, illuminated by the late-afternoon sun. The estuary was wide and quiet, lined with leafy vegetation and the low hum of insects.

My canoe was dark green, and the tip of it cut into the deep water like a knife through butter, parting it and pushing through with ease, making me feel like the Amelia Earhart of the backwaters, breaking new ground. For every one loaded, intensified moment I’d had with Patrick so far on the trip, there’d been ten more moments like this – quiet reflections and private re-centrings, flashes of perfection that made me feel like everything really would be okay. I knew London existed as a concept, that home was real and there was loads to figure out on my return, but it didn’t matter when the sun was burnt orange, the middle of a Guy Fawkes Night bonfire, nature putting on her best show just for me. How spoiled I was to have that. How lucky I was to be gifted such a radically fancy experience so that I could heal. Fernanda had wanted this for me all along. I was starting to want it for myself. I was whole. I was enough.

By the time we got to a tiny private beach, the sun dropping behind the trees seductively and ice clinking in the glasses waiting for us on the shore, osprey fishing in the water, we’d lulled ourselves into the intimate silence that came with being in total awe of the moment.