Page 123 of Who’s That Girl?

Except I never really did put it behind me. I don’t think anyone ever does, do they? From that moment on it was as if something had changed inside of me. I’d crossed a line and I never crossed back. Of course I’ve changed gradually over the years, people do, it’s all part of growing up. But if I look back, it’s almost as if that was the moment the old Lottie disappeared.

A lone tear spills from my eyelashes and trickles down my cheek. Because it’s only now I realise that I’ve never really forgiven myself. It was ten years ago but there are still times when I wonder if I did the right thing. Unguarded moments when I see Vanessa with Ruby and Sam, and I see how much she loves them, that I ask myself if I made the right choice. Wondered ‘what if’.

But now I know.

Because if spending time with my younger self and seeing Billy Romani again has made me realise one thing, it’s that I made completely the right decision. We were so young, so wrong for each other, so not ready, we would have made terrible parents. We weren’t even together – to Billy Romani I was just a one-night stand – and I couldn’t have brought a child up on my own, I was still practically a child myself. I thought I was in love, and it was an accident. It happens to millions of women. It had happened to me. But now I need to finally accept that and stop blaming myself. It’s like I said to Lottie that day as she sat crying on her doorstep: acceptance is the final stage. I need to reach that to be able to move on.

And now I have.

‘Hey, are you all right?’ Lottie looks up from painting her toenails.

‘Yeah.’ I brush away the lone tear. ‘I think so.’

‘You know, you’ve got to stop worrying about the past, forget about the future and start living for the moment.’ Finishing painting her toes, she wiggles them with a satisfied expression.

‘I know.’ I nod and take a moment to let it all sink in, before smiling ruefully. ‘But how?’

She rolls her eyes as if I’m a total moron, then realises I’m completely serious and fixes me with a considered look. ‘Loosen up a bit more, be spontaneous, enjoy yourself.’

‘Enjoy myself?’ I repeat, as if I’m speaking a foreign language.

‘Like the other night on the dance floor.’ She does a little impression of what I can only assume is me dancing and I feel myself blush. ‘You looked like you were having fun.’

‘Yes, I was,’ I admit. My mind spools back to dancing at the club, walking through the park with Oliver, eating shortbread fingers with his granddad, shopping at the flea market … I haven’t realised it until now, but I’ve had more fun in the last few days than I can remember having in the last few years.

‘Here, I know what will cheer you …’ Jumping up from the table, my younger self scrabbles around in a spangly bag hanging on the back of the chair and pulls out a Kit-Kat. ‘Chocolate.’ She pulls a delighted face and, snapping it in half, holds out a finger.

‘Um, no, thanks.’ I smile, shaking my head. ‘I try not to eat chocolate.’

‘Seriously?’ She stares at me agog. ‘God, no wonder you’re depressed.’

And suddenly it hits me. Our roles have completely reversed. It’s no longer me giving my younger self advice; it’s her giving me advice. And I’m fast realising that actually I don’t know better at all. About some things, yes – I glance at that terrible silver eyeshadow – but not about everything, far from it.

Age and experience haven’t made me this wise old master – they’ve made me this anxious, strung-out thirtysomething who worries about everything. Whose life is completely out of balance. Who’s forgotten how to have fun. And who spends the whole time reading self-help books and trying to find herself when she’s been here under her nose all along, I think, glancing at Lottie and seeing this smart, confident, vibrant person.

Honestly, what was I worrying about? She’s going to be just fine, I suddenly realise. I can’t wrap her up in cotton wool. I can’t stop her making mistakes, just like I couldn’t stop her and Billy and the inevitable result that came from that. But you know what? I don’t want to. There’s a saying: ‘What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger.’ And yes, she’s going to have some rough times ahead of her, but she’s gonna be OK.

I’m going to be OK.

Because it’s true: there has been something missing in my life. I was missing in my life. I lost sight of who I was. I lost myself. And now here, in this bedroom, I’ve found myself again.

‘Actually, pass me some of that Kit-Kat.’

And my sweet tooth.

After polishing off the rest of the Kit-Kat, my appetite reawakens and I suddenly realise I’m starving. Lottie kindly offers me some instant noodles, but I decline. While I might have had the right idea about a lot of things when I was younger, this definitely wasn’t one of them. Instead I suggest going to eat at the Wellington. My treat.

Which seems like a great idea until we enter the pub and I suddenly see the young Olly. I stiffen. With everything that’s been happening, I’d totally forgotten he’d be working here, and seeing him now brings my argument with Oliver whooshing back.

Apprehensively I walk towards the bar.

‘Hey, how are you?’ As he sees me, he smiles in recognition. ‘It’s Charlotte, isn’t it? We met the other night at the club.’

‘Yeah. Hi, Olly.’ I smile awkwardly. It seems weird him being so nice, when only a few hours ago we were standing in my living room, screaming at each other.

‘So how are things?’ he asks cheerfully, and as I look into his familiar pale grey eyes, my insides tug.

‘Great,’ I say brightly, forcing myself to sound cheerful. If I felt bad before, now I feel worse. ‘And you?’