But then, Jules is encouraging me to think of achievements, and on a positive note, I am managing. Although I’ve had plenty of wobbly moments, I haven’t entirely lost the plot since my marriage fell apart. Nor have I gone round and brained Andy in that cheesy flat. I haven’t descended into a state of shabby personal hygiene, or got hideously drunk (at least, not too often). Meanwhile, what I have done is played with Izzy, helped with her homework and read her bedtime stories. I have weeded the borders, de-mossed the patio (no high pressure hose man for me!), cooked endless dinners and managed to shield Rose from countless journalists on the phone.

As far as achievements go, these are starting to feel distinctly barrel-scrapey. But Jules insists they are all significant, and listing them – whilst feeling slightly silly – at least proves that I haven’t just been flailing around these past few months.

I’ve been surviving, all these little things seem to say. I might have shelled out £49 on a tiny pot of ‘microspheres’, but I have also taken care of the important stuff and been getting on with my life.

Before she goes, Jules seems to break her own rule by offering one small suggestion. ‘Perhaps,’ she ventures, ‘you could talk to Rose on Monday and find out what sort of plans she has in mind for you?’

‘I do keep asking,’ I say, ‘but she’s always too busy to talk.’

‘Could you ask her to schedule some time for you, then?’ she asks with a wry smile.

I nod. ‘Yes, of course.’ Now, why didn’t I think of that?

‘And next time we get together,’ Jules adds, ‘we can talk about how that went. Because I think she’s very lucky to have you.’

‘Really?’ I exclaim, blinking at her.

‘Yes, really,’ she says, hugging me as she leaves. It’s even more effective than the rescued seagull video at making me burst into tears.

Chapter Eighteen

Monday, August 19

As it turns out, I don’t have to ask Rose about her plans for me, because as soon as I sit down at my desk, she appears and asks if I can clear some time to chat today.

Today, just like that!

‘Yes, of course.’

‘Can you do lunch?’ she asks.

‘Sounds great,’ I reply, trying to mask my surprise. ‘Shall we go up together or shall I meet you there?’

‘Oh, let’s not eat in the canteen,’ she says quickly. ‘Let’s go somewhere proper, away from this madhouse. I’ll book.’

A proper lunch, out of the building, where normal people go! And Rose isn’t even asking me to make the reservation! Already I’m picturing myself telling Jules about this at our next session: how we went somewhere fabulous where Rose laid out her plans for my glittering future.

In terms of achievements, it’s a step up from ‘managing to not brain Andy’.