“That’s fantastic.” He looks genuinely excited. “I mean… I wouldn’t have picked it. You’re always so… I don’t know, well-dressed and perfect, yet you get stuck into mud and… wait…” Scott holds up a hand. “Please tell me you have wellingtons.”

“Of course I do.”

Scott slaps the table with his palm. “I knew it. You are anything but boring, Trish.”

“I’m glad I amuse you.”

Scott laughs again. It takes so little to make him look genuinely happy.

“Tell me more about your garden – assuming there’s one hiding at the back of that pretty house of yours.”

I narrow my eyes. “I can’t tell if you’re teasing me.”

Scott’s happy face drains away. “I was trying to make you relax, but I have this habit of taking things too far. I honestly am not teasing you, Trish. I want to know more about you and I admire the fact you garden. I can’t tell a weed from a daisy, or maybe a daisy is a weed…”

“What do you do outside work?” I ask.

“Oh no.” Scott waves his chopsticks. “We are not turning this conversation back to me just yet.”

It’s an inbuilt tactic of mine. Besides, most people are happy to talk about themselves. Pete always was. I’m beginning to think Scott isn’t like most people.

“I was asking because for me, gardening is therapy,” I say, instantly squirming in my seat.

This isn’t something I’ve discussed with anyone before. My friends know I like to garden, but they don’t understand why.

“Therapy for what?” Scott asks softly.

I look at my hands, clasped tightly on the table. Am I really going to talk about this? With a virtual stranger?

“When I was growing up, my mum spent a lot of time in bed and not a lot of time playing happy families. She also tried to kill herself a few times, which wasn’t great. Sometimes it… I can get a little down.” I’m too scared to look up.

Once – when I was having a down moment and couldn’t drag myself out of bed – I told Pete about Mum. He brought me a coffee and said I’d snap out of it. I just needed to stop working so hard, he’d said, giving me a peck on the forehead. Maybe I’m testing Scott, seeing how he’ll react.

Slowly, I raise my head. He’s looking at me with such compassion and tenderness I want to collapse into his arms.

“I’m sorry, Trish. That might go some way towards explaining your tears on the plane.”

“Yeah, well, you caught me off guard talking about Mum’s aura.” I smirk.

Scott grimaces. “Can’t believe I said that stuff.” He hesitates. “Have you seen a doctor about your depression?”

I sit back as if I’ve been slapped. How dare he.

“Excuse me?”