He shakes his head at me and rolls his eyes. I laugh. It doesn’t matter that he doesn’t understand. Who could? This crazy life of mine isn’t something anyone else has. It’s mine. Unique. I’m going to have to deal with it on my own. But that’s okay, I know now. For the past two years, this search has occupied my every thought. It’s infected my life, destroyed my marriage, suspended my career, sent me half-crazy with fear and worry and jealousy and obsession. But now it’s over. I have that magical thing – closure – and I’m glad. I don’t want to talk about it anymore.

‘How was your latest hike?’

‘Fantastic,’ he says. ‘We went over a mountain pass and it was so beautiful up there. I’ll send you some pictures, if you give me your email address.’

‘Oh, sure.’ I fish in my handbag for a pen and scribble my email address on the back of the bill.

He nods, takes the bill and folds it carefully, puts it in his pocket. ‘So, is this it?

‘Is what it?’

‘I don’t know. Switzerland…’ He waves his hand, gesturing vaguely in my direction. ‘This.’

I keep my eyes on him, seeing his awkwardness and enjoying it. ‘I don’t know. Should it be?’ I say finally.

‘Well…’ He looks down, fiddles with a plastic capsule of coffee creamer. ‘I just want you to do what makes you happy, Jess.’

I take a sip of my cappuccino and feel my heart race as I formulate what I want to say. Part of me wants to kiss him, right here and now. I don’t think he’d turn me down. But the rest of me knows I need some time on my own, to digest the last two months, and that it wouldn’t be right to make promises I can’t keep.

‘This has been a bizarre summer for me,’ I say. ‘But I’ve really appreciated having you around to talk to. I really have. You’re the only thing that’s kept me even slightly sane.’ He waggles his head and mock-frowns, clearly disagreeing with my judgement of my sanity. ‘Okay, well, you’ve tried to keep me sane. Anyway,’ I wave my hand. ‘Right now I haven’t got a clue what I’m going to do. I have to go home. I have to see Dad, I have to sign divorce papers. I need to spend some time thinking about what to do next. But I hope we can keep in touch and, you know, if you ever come to London, let me know. I have a sofabed.’

He grins. ‘A sofabed. I’ll bear it in mind.’

I hug him goodbye and resist the urge to look back as I walk away through the station concourse, following families, businesspeople and couples towards the airport check-in lounge.