‘Oh, I wasn’t at first,’ I say quickly. ‘For months, I was in quite a state, and I still have my moments sometimes. But there’s definitely been, well … a power shift, I suppose. I mean, I don’t feel particularly angry or sad anymore. I look at him and feel … well, nothing very much, really. Apart from noting that his hair could do with a better cut and his jeans are a bit saggy.’

‘That sounds like a pretty healthy way to be,’ Nick remarks.

‘Yes, I guess it is. It suggests I’m recovering, at least. And, you know, it feels like my life is opening up again. The museum project’s helping.’

‘I’m surprised you’ve had time for anything else,’ he jokes, and it’s true that it’s been all-encompassing, having gathered momentum faster than I could have imagined. Upstairs, away from Penny’s gaze, I have already amassed quite a collection of pieces, and each day seems to bring a new lead to assist with my search, or even the arrival of a Girl Friday piece. I am no longer simply surviving day to day. I am actually living again. And even although Andy showed up today, skulking about and bothering my friends, Izzy’s party was a huge success, and it was all down to me, with a little help from Nick and Jules. I’m proud of Izzy – and myself – for managing this new situation.

‘I’m really glad you were here to help,’ I tell Nick, getting up to fetch slices of birthday cake, which we both pick at.

He smiles warmly and meets my gaze. ‘I enjoyed it, especially the marshmallow toasting.’

‘You’re clearly an expert,’ I tease him.

‘Hey, there’s a lot of skill involved!’ He laughs. ‘It took me back to being a Scout.’

I peel a strip of icing off the cake. ‘Did you love all that outdoorsy stuff?’

‘Oh, yeah. I didn’t get to do a huge amount of it – Mum pretty much had her hands full with everyday life – so the camps were brilliant. It was great to get out of the city, up in the Highlands and have the chance to run wild. And, as an only child, all I wanted was to be with a big pile of mates really.’

‘Yes, I can imagine.’ I smile, trying to picture him as a mussed-haired kid. ‘My parents were pretty set in their ways when it came to holidays – year after year it was a week at Mrs Wilkie’s B&B on Arran. Dad was a keen fisherman so we’d borrow a boat and end up with an all-you-can-eat mackerel sizzle on the beach.’

‘Now that sounds idyllic,’ Nick says with a smile.