‘I got lucky with Liam. And at some point that luck is going to run out,’ I say, pushing on. ‘It’s inevitable and because of that I’ve been such a bitch. The way I’ve been treating him … I’m pressing the buttons. It’s like I’m giving him an out so that it can just happen and I can start preparing myself for the hurt to come. So I’ve told myself that I miss things, like the firsts – the getting to know someone, the flirting, the kissing, the excitement and nerves that go alongside it, because really I’m just terrified of losing what I have.’

We sit and listen to the llamas and alpacas humming away at each other.

‘Actually, I don’t think it’s this new guy, you feeling like you don’t deserve happiness, or Pia’s death that’s got you thinking in this way,’ Mike says after a moment or two.

‘No?’

‘Nope,’ he says with a shake of his head. ‘I think it’s me.’

‘Well, this could get awkward,’ I say, unable to stop myself from laughing.

‘Don’t be soft,’ he says, bashing my thigh with the back of his hand. ‘I mean, it’s seeing someone who had it all, lose it all. You’re scared of being me.’

‘Yeah …’ I sigh.

‘Nice to know I’m not selling this widower lark,’ he says. ‘I’ll try better.’

‘Please do,’ I say, taking his hand in mine.

‘There’s something you should think about though,’ he says thoughtfully. ‘At some point there’s a shift and the firsts are no longer important. It’s no longer about finding someone to share all of your firsts with, it’s about who you want to be there for all of your lasts. Or your forevers. Because choosing, or being chosen to be that person – that is the real honour.’

‘Oh Jesus,’ I say, as tears start streaming down my face.

‘It’s true though,’ he says. ‘All you have to ask yourself, really, is do you want that person to be Liam?’

‘Absolutely!’ I say.

‘There we go then,’ Mike says with a decisive nod of his head, seemingly satisfied. ‘The grim thing is that whatever happens, if you are lucky enough to have decades together, one of you will always go first. One of you will always be left. And I will forever feel guilty that that person is me, but – I couldn’t bear the thought of her living with this pain.’

‘You were perfect together,’ I say.

‘No, we weren’t. We rowed. Abysmally sometimes,’ he says, shaking his head. ‘I slept on the sofa more nights than I care to remember.’

‘No!’