I don’t know how to feel, but I know one thing. You shouldn’t be contemplating doing a terrified runner from finding out you drunkenly married your boyfriend of five minutes. My legs are jelly, or I would already be hauling arse and getting the hell out of here. I feel sick and cannot begin to unravel everything going through my head.

I pull myself upright properly, determined not to sit here and dwell. I will drive myself insane if I do. I need to deal with my physical misery ...