The clock above the kettle showed eight exactly. Although I should have turned on the television, switched up the blow heaters to full power and snuggled down under my duvet to watch reruns of old movies, this was never an option. Instead I turned the lights back on and dressed quickly in jeans and a thick woollen jumper. I had told Mitch I’d be in Durham by eight. He had called to double-check I wasn’t at home.

I hurried outside and fumbled about the car, searching for the de-icer and was soon scraping frost and snow off the windscreen. The roads were eerily quiet with random passers-by unidentifiable under thick layers of clothing. I dragged the scraper back and forth over the glass. My hands and body were numb from the cold.

The car finally spluttered into life and I pulled away from the pavement. I slithered along over a treacherous surface, veering left and right as a blizzard blinded my vision.

I parked up opposite Mitch’s flat. It seemed an eternity since this morning when we had waved goodbye. I turned off the headlights and cut the engine.

Mitch always kept his curtains open as he liked to see the lights from Alexandra Palace glow on the horizon. He liked the scene from his living room window, especially on dark cold evenings. We often ate dinner at the table which was placed directly under the large glass panel and revelled in the romance provided by the view.

Tonight the curtains were open but at 9.05pm precisely, a woman inside moved towards them. She hesitated and looked down at the snowy scene below. She then drew the heavy drapes across. They didn’t quite meet in the middle and I stared up, willing Mitch to come to the window and look out; to see me, to be caught in the act.

I had two options. I could have rung the bell and gained entry into the duplicitous world my paramour now shared with another. This would have sealed my fate and left me with the terrifying prospect that I would have had to dig into all my inner reserves of self-respect and abandon my boyfriend to his peccadilloes. I’d have to tell him it was over, that I never wanted to see him again, and go through the gut-wrenching heartache from which I doubted I’d ever recover.

Perhaps he would come and beg my forgiveness, spell out that we were still single and this was a one-off sowing of his wild oats before he’d finally be able to settle down. He would ask me to move in with him and then we could be together forever. It would be a gamble.