Katie smiled and picked up her spoon. She rather liked cold custard. He leaned forward, watching her intently. ‘You know, I think you’re a bit of a witch, aren’t you?’

‘Pardon?’ she asked, startled.

‘Well, you’ve got me talking away, asking me all sorts of questions, and I’m keeping on and on about myself like a proper bore – and you’ve hardly said a word about you.’

‘That’s all right,’ she said with a trace of dishonesty. She had had more than enough of golf. But she did want to hear about him and his family. ‘There’s not that much to say.’

He sipped his water, peering mischievously at her over the rim of his glass. She enjoyed looking into his face. ‘I don’t believe you. You’re like the Dark Lady – full of mystery.’

‘Oh, Shakespeare’s Dark Lady?’ she said, surprised. Here was something they could talk about. Perhaps he loved reading too? ‘D’you like Shakespeare?’

‘Yes – well, I’d like it more if I had more time. To be honest, I had a . . . Well, a sort of girlfriend when I was at the university. She was doing a degree in English Literature and she told me about the Dark Lady. I don’t really have time for that sort of thing.’

‘No, well, I’ve never seen any of the plays or anything,’ she said, ‘except an amateur production of Twelfth Night in a village hall. Mom and I were invited. It was absolutely terrible!’ She put her hand over her mouth, giggling at the memory. ‘But I like reading the plays – and the sonnets.’

‘You like reading? That’s nice. You’ll have to show me some of them.’ She was fairly sure that he was not really interested, but appreciated his humouring her. She was surprised. She had thought that was what people did in universities. But of course, Katie told herself, Simon was a busy man, running an engineering company, not footling about with poems. It was a shame, all the same.

‘Not really my thing,’ he went on. ‘Any spare time I get, I’m out on the golf course – or cricket in the summer of course. Now that’s another marvellous game . . .’

‘I go to the library a lot,’ she said quickly. ‘My uncle . . .’ But she ground to a halt. Why talk on about this when he wasn’t interested in it?

‘Go on?’

‘Oh nothing – he’s dead now. But I borrow a lot of books.’

Simon leaned forward, bringing his face as close to hers as he could. ‘You don’t make it easy to concentrate in the office.’

‘Me? Why?’ She felt like giggling, almost as if she’d been drinking something stronger than the tap water they were sipping. She was aware only of him now, not any of the other diners around.

‘Oh, Katie – do you really have no idea how lovely looking you are? There’s me trying to keep my mind on . . . on flaming drawings and motor parts, and there you are across the room looking absolutely ravishing!’