He arrived right on time, ignoring the doorbell and tapping gently on the glass in the front door. He was wearing jeans. Good, very dark, blue jeans, with a leather belt looped through at the waist and a crisp white shirt tucked in, open at the neck. She was so glad she hadn’t forced herself into a dress. This was not a date, and keeping things casual started with looking and feeling casual. So far, so good. She saw him looking at her head, but he said nothing, just smiled and nodded, making it clear that the choice was up to her. So far, even better.

He took her arm as they walked down the lane, tucking it carefully into his own.

‘There’s sometimes a singer, on a Saturday night,’ he said. ‘I rang to book us a table, in case they’re busy, but I didn’t think to ask.’

‘That would be nice, if there is. I’m looking forward to the meal anyway, with or without, but I do like a bit of entertainment.’

He laughed. ‘I should think you do, in your line of work. Ever done any yourself? Singing, I mean. Musicals maybe?’

‘I’m no singer, believe me. I did try it out, at drama school, as we all did. Tried a bit of everything actually. Comedy, tragedy, mime, dance …’

‘But you settled on straight acting?’

‘It’s where my heart is, I suppose. Not that I don’t enjoy an occasional go at something lighter, hence my ill-fated foray into soap for a while, but I prefer something challenging. And the older I get, the more I’m offered the more interesting parts. You know, the sinister old woman, the evil murderer, the old battle-axe. I even played a female King Lear once. A rather modern version, obviously! But singing? No.’

The pub was warm and noisy and packed with people as they pushed open the door and Tom led the way to the bar. There were paintings of all shapes and sizes on the whitewashed walls, all of which appeared to depict cattle or horses or sheep, and there were long red candles in waxy wine bottles on the tables, and a real fire glowing in the grate.

‘What would you like to drink?’ Tom asked, having to raise his voice above the hubbub. ‘Or would you rather go straight to the table and order a bottle of wine?’

‘Wine, I think. But just a glass. My pills …’

‘Righto.’ He spoke to the girl behind the bar and Madi saw her check her reservations book before picking up two menus and leading them to a small table in the far corner.

‘Thanks, Sally,’ Tom said, waving the waitress away and pulling Madi’s chair out for her to sit down. ‘I chose this one because it’s nicely tucked away, so we have more chance of hearing each other speak. And you get a good view of the garden too, with the fairy lights on. A few hardy folk do go and eat out there, under the canopy, even at this time of year. Probably so they can smoke, of course, but at least they can do it in pretty surroundings.’