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was nearly lunchtime and I toyed with the idea of going down to the hotel bar for a sandwich, but at the last moment lost my nerve and phoned down for room service. ‘Baby steps,’ I told myself encouragingly. ‘Just take little baby steps and you’ll be fine.’ My reflection looked back at me doubtfully from the dressing-table mirror. If I couldn’t even convince myself, how on earth was I going to get through the next seventy-two hours?
    After I’d eaten, I called Sarah on my mobile to let her know I had arrived. I heard the relief in her voice and was dismayed that she had not been entirely certain I was really going to come. That strengthened my resolve to be strong, if only for her sake.
    ‘Come over now, I don’t want to wait till tonight to see you.’ Her enthusiasm made me smile, but then Sarah always had. I just hoped Dave realised how lucky he was, getting to spend his entire future with such a special person.
    ‘Maybe in a little while,’ I promised. ‘And you have me at your disposal all day tomorrow, so we’ll get plenty of time to talk before you become an old married lady.’ She groaned at my words and uttered a very unladylike phrase in response.
    ‘Actually,’ I continued, ‘I think I’ll take a little walk this afternoon. See if I can face up to some of those old memories after all.’
    ‘Fancy some company?’ I smiled at her offer. She must have a thousand and one things to do, yet I knew she’d abandon all of them in a heartbeat if I said yes.
    ‘No, that’s OK,’ I replied, ‘I think I might do this better on my own, and anyway I’m getting a bit of headache.’ I brought my hand up to rub distractedly between my brows, as I realised this last was true. ‘So the fresh air will do me good.’
    ‘Well, don’t walk so far that you’ll be too exhausted for my hen dinner tonight.’
    ‘As if I’d be allowed to miss that! Are you doing the L plates and tiara costume bit?’
    ‘No,’ came the swift response in mock indignation, ‘I told you before, this is no tacky girly shindig. This is a mixed, grown-up and sophisticated dinner with all of my oldest friends, to celebrate my departure from spinsterhood. By the way, you have arranged a stripper for me, haven’t you?’
    ‘Absolutely,’ I replied, and was still smiling when I hung up the phone.
    The air outside was much colder than I had expected, and I was glad of my thick woollen coat and knitted scarf wound tightly about my neck. Without any conscious thought or instruction, my feet found their own rhythm and began to direct me down the twisting side roads which would lead me to my old home. I didn’t intervene. This was the first stop I needed to make and this should be the easy one. No dark memories there, only happy ones from my childhood.
    Someone had replaced the old picket fence with something much fancier made out of wrought iron, and the front door was now a garish green colour, but apart from that it all looked the same. There was a comfort in seeing that the house hadn’t been altered too dramatically, although the garden was better kept, I noticed, but then Dad had never been much of a gardener. Also, fancy wooden blinds replaced the more homely curtains that we had preferred, but basically this was still my old home.
    As I lingered on the pavement, I allowed a wave of memories to assault me, a kaleidoscope of images spanning the years. Yet still there were no dark shadows here. Up until five years ago this was the only home I had known and it still represented the feelings of safety and sanctuary which had eluded me in any subsequent accommodation. Standing on the pavement, feeling like I still belonged there, yet at the same time knowing strangely that I did not, I felt a dart of nostalgia pierce through me. I realised with a shock that this was the first time I had actually seen the house since the night of the accident.
    The decision to move away, the packing up and sale had all been carried out during the