I drive down the H6, Willen Lake on my left.

I blink to clear my eyes.

Not now.

I head to Furzton Lake.

I park and watch the ducks swim.

They swoop and soar, carefree. I envy them.

I throw some seed to an approaching goose. You don’t mess with Milton Keynes lake birds. Show up; have food, or else.

I say goodbye and return home.

I go straight to the kitchen. I cook an M&S lasagne and eat it. I avoid the dishwasher. One plate. One cup. One fork. No point really. Using a dishwasher for just one person. There is for three. But not for one. I use the sink.

I plop down in front of the TV. News time. The newsreader with the loud socks is looking into the wrong camera again. I half hear the MP of the week denying they were cutting any more services.

The next morning, I drive to Newport Pagnell church.

I greet the vicar and get on with cleaning the pews.

The vicar wants to have a word about an idea. I contemplate escaping, but I like the vicar. Don’t want to disappoint him. Don’t want to disappoint them.

He wants to know if I would help at the cake sale next Saturday.

‘Next Saturday?’

My shoulders droop.

I think for a few seconds. I have finalised plans for next Saturday.

‘Well, I guess Sunday will do. It’s up to me.’

I look at the vicar. I do like him.

I say yes.

I take the scenic route home past Willen Lake. It hurts but I must revisit.

I park and stroll towards the swans sitting on the lake. They are elegant and haughty. I throw bird food far out into the water.

The swans climb up the bank and flap towards me. I beat a hasty retreat towards the Premier Inn.

I bump into a man.

‘Hello,’ I say.

He stares at the lake.

He does not look well.

‘Can I help you?’ I ask.

He moves forward.

I watch him walk towards the lake.

His glacial progress contrasts with the sudden speed I find. Before I know it, we are both in the water, me with my arms around him, him sobbing. I drag us towards the bank. The swans watch but show no interest. No food here.

‘You don’t have to tell me what’s wrong,’ I say. ‘But I’m not going to leave you.’

The man nods and eventually his sobs stop.

We sit together, watching the water. Eventually I feel comfortable taking my arms off of him.

‘Funny, I haven’t hugged anyone in over a year. Not since…well. Not since coming here with them. They used to love this place. Best playground in the city in their gap-toothy opinion.’

I smile.

‘My name is Shane,’ the man blurts out. ‘I can’t cope.’

I sigh.

‘My name is Catherine. Neither can I. Or at least I thought so. Want a coffee?’