The first one contained the board game Diplomacy, and the second a long narrow box which, when opened, revealed a swathe of tissue paper with a copy of a British magazine.

Laure read aloud from the covering letter.

Dear Curator, will you accept this for the museum? When you have read the enclosed, I’m sure you’ll agree it deserves to be displayed. I am an ordinary man but I liked to think that I understood people but I was wrong. I hadn’t a clue. These events have left me gob-smacked and I won’t be getting over them in a hurry.

She peeled back the tissue paper to reveal a bridal veil and continued.

Having thought about it obsessively, I’ve concluded that I can’t adequately describe my feelings and this will have to do instead.

In brief, I got married early this year but the marriage only lasted two months. That was bad enough. Worse, is the lack of explanation. Every time I ask my soon-to-be ex-wife what went wrong and why, she refuses to answer me. A couple of weeks ago, a friend showed me this piece that had been published in the magazine. (See sticker.) What has this to do with the breakdown of the marriage? If you read it, it will become clear.

‘Can I read it?’ May asked.

Laure looked down at the veil – foamy white and hopeful-looking. Protecting privacy up to a point, and being kind, was a first principle and, like it or not, May was a predator. Yet, the piece was published and in the public domain.

‘Laure, you can trust me.’

Who fooled who? Yet, mouth set in rueful lines, semi-duplicitous and rash, May could not be dismissed. She was quick, she was intelligent and brave enough to go venturing into the world to make her way. Those were things worth encouraging.

‘Correct,’ she replied gently. ‘You’re a journalist who needs a story.’

‘Quite right. It’s the eternal battle. How to be human and do my work.’ Her gaze sought out Nic’s. ‘But deep down in my candy-floss soul I do manage to have proper feelings.’ They exchanged a tiny smile.

Laure pushed the magazine over to May who skimmed through the pages showcasing high fashion, fusion recipes and what was what in retinol creams. She found the article and began to read it out loud.

This was an office where French and English accents dominated. Her Southern drawl, dropping letters, emphasizing vowels, issued from different linguistic geography hinting of other worlds.

The veil was chosen by Jenna and me. We had talked on the phone for hours over which one to go for and, because I wanted to hear her voice, I spun it out. Why not? I was about to lose her. She was about to vanish into the two-up, two-down life complete with a set of cutlery, place mats and a lawn mower.