Obviously, I should apologise – I know I’ve overreacted and none of what I’m feeling is this cab driver’s fault. But if I try to be nice, I think I might cry, and I really don’t want to cry on him – that would be even more awkward than him finding me rude and deranged.

I’m booked into the Royal Ship, a hotel on a cobbled square in the centre of St Helier. It’s got a spa, several restaurants and a beautiful view over the harbour. Ridhima, one of the assistants at work, got me a great deal as long as I hashtag the hotel in social media posts. She said it would be the ideal central location from which to explore the rest of the island.

‘Thank you,’ I say to the driver as he drops me off. Giving him a hefty tip, I mutter an apology.

‘Good luck,’ he says, in a way that implies I’m going to need a great deal of it because I’m clearly bonkers.

My hotel room is exactly what I need: clean and comfortingly neutral. I don’t think I’ve ever stayed in a hotel alone before – only ever with a friend or boyfriend. Do I wish David were here? No, he’d only be calling the front desk to enquire about the duvet tog rating, or checking to see if the TV has Sky Sports. I shall relish the luxury of having a kingsize bed, a giant bathtub and all this space just for me. I start running a bath and open the minibar. I know these things are a rip-off but since my outburst in the cab, my hands won’t stop shaking.

Who was that person who exploded at that poor cab driver? That wasn’t me; I don’t get angry at people like that. I didn’t even know I was so worried about any of that stuff. I know I’ve been a little all-over-the-place since losing Mum, but deep down, I’ve always felt like an optimist. Maybe what Dee said in the car got under my skin. Maybe I’ll simply never be the happy-go-lucky person I was before I lost Mum.

I pour myself a strong gin and tonic and open the balcony window to look out at the cobbled square below and the harbour full of boats beyond. The sound of people enjoying themselves in the bar beneath rises up to meet me. Walking back to the bathroom, I turn off the bath tap and splash my face with water. Don’t waste this weekend being melancholy, Laura – this should be a happy weekend, a celebration of what your parents had, an adventure discovering your Jersey heritage.