I expected to feel reluctant walking towards Vicky’s door. This is the first significant ‘day of note’ without Pia. After lunch with my parents and in-laws, where I couldn’t eat much due to the intensity of the day, I thought I would be shattered and wondering if I could duck out of the whole thing and sit in the darkness of the flat instead – succumbing to the emptiness. Yet I feel buoyed along by the bag in my hand. As a result of more clearing, and Pia’s parents doing their own rummage at theirs, I’m in possession of more Pia. A pile of photos showing her doing the things she loved – from the daft to the inspiring. I think it’ll be a nice talking point and I’d hate Pia to become the elephant in the room. Maybe it’ll break off any awkwardness with Liam and Nick, who probably aren’t too enthusiastic about me trudging through their plans, and let them know it’s OK to talk about her.

I hear the noise before I even set foot on Vicky’s doorstep. She’s screeching, as is Chloe. It sounds like total carnage in there. I hear the sound of the doorbell alerting them to the fact I’ve arrived. Silence follows from inside, then the thumping of feet running down the stairs.

‘Mike! Come in, love,’ Vicky beams, throwing open the door with the biggest forced grin on her face I’ve ever seen. Her hair has formed a nest on top of her head and her face is flushed – but that smile is cemented on.

‘All good?’ I ask, glancing past her towards the eerily quiet stairs, surprised the kids haven’t come down yet, seeing as they’re clearly awake.

‘Absolutely,’ she beams in reply, grabbing my arm and pulling me into the house. ‘Nick’s not back yet. He’s had to work late. Drink?’

I take my shoes off and follow her into the kitchen, noticing the white wine she’s already tucking into.

‘Long day?’

‘Same old,’ she almost cackles. ‘Wine or beer?’

‘Beer, please!’

‘No prob–’ She’s stopped in her tracks by the sound of Chloe screaming from upstairs, which despite hearing the commotion before coming in, makes me leap out of my skin.

‘Muuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuummy! Mummy! Muuuuuummy!!’ she wails.

Vicky’s smile wavers. Her eyes close as she visibly steels herself. ‘Sorry, help yourself. I’ve just got to –’

‘Go! No worries,’ I say.

‘Thanks,’ she smiles, reaching for one last mouthful of wine before shuffling out of the room and up the stairs where I hear her trying to hiss instructions over Chloe’s protests.

I grab a beer and neck half of the bottle. Crazy to think our lives are so different when we spent years living together, living the same life.

My thoughts are interrupted by the doorbell.