Lying in bed with Will Turner after making the beast for the second time, I was stroking his hair as his hands drifted over my body. I felt better than the morning before, even though there were still bloodstains that needed to be hidden, because things had gone much better the third time round.

'I wish I could have met you earlier,' I whispered. He nodded. Then we would have had more time together.

But then, perhaps things would be different - as I said to RM, perhaps I'd become neurotic about whether our relationship had just become based on sex alone, as so many of my relationships often are, or dreading having to meet his friends and engage in existentialist discussion. Non, merci.

It's these nights and mornings in bed that I hold out for.