Prue shuddered. ‘God, no. That sounds just as bad as a rollercoaster. I don’t do speed.’

‘Is there anything just a tiny bit scary that you would consider doing? It’s great for the rush it gives you, you know, that flash of fear!’

‘Sorry, Aaron, but I’m strictly a two-feet-firmly-on-the-ground sort of a girl. I’ll tell you what I’ll do though, to prove I’m up for a challenge. Find me some jellied eels or one of those East End cockle and whelk stalls I’ve heard so much about and I’ll try one, okay?’

‘Just the one?’

‘Well, I might not like it.’

‘Prue, you are such a daredevil! And I’m not sure there’s a lot of that stuff about these days. I think you might be basing your ideas of London cuisine on something you’ve read in one of your books. Set in Victorian times, by the sound of it. How about cod and chips if you’re after something fishy? Not exactly caught in the Thames, but will that do you? And if you’re really serious about trying something a bit racy, we can ask for a pickled egg on the side.’

She couldn’t help but giggle. Aaron might be a lot younger than her, and there was absolutely no romantic spark between them, but he got her. He shared her sense of humour and he wasn’t afraid to poke fun at her. In just a few days she felt as if she knew him almost as well as she knew herself, and a whole lot better than she had ever known Joe Barton. Why couldn’t Joe have been more like Aaron? More open, more fun, more real?

As their pod reached ground level, they stepped out and headed along the embankment and up the steps to Westminster Bridge. Leaning on the stone wall, Prue aimed her camera at the boats moving through the water below, clicking quickly to record a sequence of shots taken just seconds apart. ‘There might only be one good one among this lot,’ she said. ‘That’s the beauty of digital. No wasted film. Try as often as you like to capture the perfect image and just delete the rest.’

‘Maybe that’s what you should have been doing with your men.’

‘What men?’

‘Exactly. Just homing in on the one was always going to be a gamble, wasn’t it?’

‘Two. I’ve had two boyfriends, I’ll have you know.’

‘Right. Sorry. But two? Really, Prue? You should have gone out with loads of them by now. Played the field a bit, tested the water. You know, try before you buy. It’s what I’ve always done, not that I’m in any hurry to find The One, but it’s fun looking, and I’m pretty sure it’s the only way to recognise perfection when it finally arrives. Then you can just delete the rest! And that includes that loser Joe.’

Prue knew he was joking, but she had to admit he was probably right. She was twenty-four and she had had precisely two boyfriends. One a best friend she had hoped for more from but it had never been offered, and the other, if she was honest about it, probably nothing more than an exciting experiment, to test herself, to see what it would be like with someone else. Dating, kissing, sex …