Jason was on stage first. With a microphone and dressed as Romeo – in brightly coloured contrasting prints.

‘This is just a little pre-show announcement,’ he said. ‘Firstly – thank you everyone for coming. Very nice to see such a large and impressive turnout, no doubt thanks to our incredibly extensive publicity campaign.’

There were some chortles in the audience.

‘Secondly, I just wanted to inform you that we’ve had some … mild issues, trying to prepare this play. We had some … cast disputes. And we’ve had to rush through some of the final scenes. Everything is fine now, we hope, but … it’s been quite the journey getting here. There’ve been a lot of tears and heated WhatsApp messages.’

There were more chuckles in the crowd.

‘For those of you who don’t know,’ Jason continued, ‘we at the Shakespeare Society decided that for our first ever show, we would perform a selection of scenes rather than just one play. All of these scenes are, in one way or another, about love – but we leave it up to you to interpret what sort of love these scenes are depicting. Pure, toxic, romantic, platonic – we wanted to explore all sorts. In any case, it’s going to be quite a bit shorter than a regular play, so we’ll all get out in time for a late pub lunch.’

Some whoops from the crowd.

‘Lastly,’ said Jason, ‘four of us wanted to say that we’re dedicating this performance to the person who managed to bring us all together after everything sort of fell apart.’

He turned and looked at me in the wings, his eyes finding mine.

‘Georgia Warr is the reason this play is even happening,’ he said. ‘And it might just be a small play, but it matters to all of us. Quite a lot. And Georgia deserves to have something made just for her. So, this one’s for you, Georgia. This is a play about love.’

It was a bit of a mess, but it was wonderful. We started with a comedy, Rooney and Pip going on as Benedick and Beatrice, and soon the audience were in stitches. I somehow found myself hearing the story of Much Ado About Nothing as if I had never heard it before. It was alive in front of me. It was beautiful.

Twelfth Nightwas up next. Which meant it was nearly time for me to go on.

And that’s when I realised I was fine.

No nausea. No running to the bathroom like Romeo and Juliet in Year 13.

I was nervous, sure. But a normal level of nervous, mixed with excitement to perform, to act, to do the thing I really, really enjoyed.

And when I went on and did my ‘Come away, death’ speech, I really did have fun. Jason and Sunil went on after me as Orsino and Viola, and I watched from one side, smiling, relieved, happy. I’d done it. We’d done it.

Jason and Rooney did some Romeo and Juliet, making it look as passionate as if they really were dating. Then all of us did some King Lear, where Lear tries to figure out which of his daughters loves him the most. And then I was Prospero with Sunil as Ariel from The Tempest, both of us needing the other but wanting to be free from our magical bond.

Rooney and Pip came back and did more Much Ado, where Benedick and Beatrice finally admit they love each other, and when they kissed, the audience roared with applause.

And finally, we ended with A Midsummer Night’s Dream. Or, rather, I did.

I sat in the throne of flowers and read the final lines to conclude the play.

‘So, good night unto you all.’ I smiled gently at the faces of the audience, hoping, praying this had all been enough. That this wouldn’t be the last time I performed with my best friends. ‘Give me your hands if we be friends, and Robin shall restore amends.’

Sunil dimmed the stage lights, and then the audience were on their feet.

We took our bows as the audience cheered. This wouldn’t go down in university history. This wouldn’t be anything special to anyone else. People would forget about this, or just remember it as that kind of weird but interesting student play they saw one time.

Nobody else in the universe would see this play.

But I guess that made it ours.

‘It was a mess,’ said Sadie, eyebrows raised, and arms folded. ‘Your scene transitions were questionable at best, and your staging was … very unusual.’

The five of us, who were sitting in a row on the edge of the stage, collectively drooped.

‘But –’ she continued, holding up a finger – ‘I did not dislike it. In fact, I thought it was very creative, and definitely more interesting than if you’d come on and done a very average, abridged version of Romeo and Juliet.’

‘So …’ Rooney spoke up. ‘Was it … are we …’

‘Yes,’ said Sadie, ‘you can keep your Shakespeare Society.’

Pip and Rooney started screaming and hugging each other. Sunil put a hand to his chest and whispered, ‘Thank God,’ while Jason swung his arm round me and grinned, and I realised that I was grinning too. I was happy. I was so, so happy.

After Sadie left, Rooney was the first to hug me. She clambered over the others and just fell on top of me, pushing me down on to the stage and wrapping her arms round me, and I laughed, and she laughed, and we were both just laughing and laughing. Pip joined us next, shouting, ‘I want to be included,’ and leaping on top of us. Sunil rested his head on Rooney’s back, and then Jason wrapped his body round the four of us, and we all just stayed like that for a moment, laughing and babbling and holding each other. At the bottom of the scrum, I was basically being crushed, but it was comforting, in a weird way. The weight of all of them on top of me. Around me. With me.

We didn’t have to say it, but we all knew. We all knew what we’d found here. Or, I did, at least. I knew. I’d found it.

And this time there was no big declaration. No grand gesture.

It was just us, holding each other.