"I don't like to fly. I've never been a good flyer. I have a lot of friends that have permanent nail marks in their arms... The moaning that comes from me when there is turbulence. It's awkward for everyone around."

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She does not want to feel even the faintest temptation to call his mobile number, as she had done obsessively for the first year after his death so she could hear his voice on the answering service. Most days now his loss is a part of her, an awkward weight she carries around, invisible to everyone else, subtly altering the way she moves through the day. But today, the Anniversary of the day he died, is a day when all bets are off.

— Jojo Moyes