It had been oddly scary. The hairdresser had washed it and I’d spent the whole time thinking about Tom and how he used to touch it, how he was the only person who had since the accident.

‘Are you okay?’

‘Of course.’ I went to nod, then switched to a shake. ‘No. I’m fucking terrified.’

He frowned. ‘Of what?’

That question again. I sighed. ‘Everything. What if I’ve forgotten how to do it? What if I was only good because I was a mess, and now I’m too slow?’

Nic hesitated. ‘You’ll be fine.’

I ignored him. ‘What if I can’t stay up until eleven? I’ve been going to bed at nine like some old lady. What if my feet hurt too much? What if you’ve changed all the wines and I don’t know which ones are good anymore?’

‘Cait …’ He took me by the arms. ‘You’ll be fine. Just recommend the expensive ones.’

I laughed.

‘There,’ he said, pulling a cigarette out of his apron and lighting it. ‘Now go, start.’

I nodded, taking one last drag.

‘Oh,’ he said, as I bent down to drop my butt into the sand bucket. ‘So you know … Rachel’s given notice. We’re going to need another supervisor, someone who’s good with the newbs, and knows how things need to be done. Part-time, at least at first, but better money.’

My heart jumped, I couldn’t tell with what. ‘I’ll think about it.’

‘Good,’ he said. ‘Now go. It’s eleven-oh-one. You’re late.’

I rolled my eyes, and went inside.

I was slow, at first. Nervous. Someone had rearranged the fridge and I kept reaching for things where they used to be, the muscles in my shoulders and elbows and hands not willing to learn new tricks. But it got busier and busier, and eventually everything clicked into place. When I touched the bar it felt solid, like it would take my weight if I fell, but I didn’t feel like I was going to. My brain switched off and let me work. Mindfulness. Distraction.

Just another thing. Not an answer. Not a solution, but part of it.

Holly came in, hugged me hard. Dex. He didn’t say anything to me and as I watched him shuffle into the kitchen, looking strangely small, I realised I felt nothing. I never had. I’d been hurting and he’d been there, but that was all it had ever been.

Emma had quit, but there was another newb on the floor. I asked her name, made a point of remembering, but still needed a reminder halfway through dinner service.

‘You’re hopeless,’ Nic said, with a laugh.

‘And you trained me,’ I found myself saying, feeling completely at home, completely at ease. ‘So whose fault is that?’

I went back again and again.