That was it. Great. And I was sort of – speechless. My whole world had spun on a sixpence again. But this time, the right way.

‘Unless, of course, coming back to the house …?’

‘What? Oh – no! Not a problem at all! Love my old house.’ I beamed widely. He looked disconcerted, as well he might. ‘I mean,’ I gabbled quickly, ‘I might not go in the study—’

‘No, quite—’ he agreed, equally quickly.

‘But anywhere else—’ God. Did that sound a bit – you know. Forward? ‘I mean – the sitting room, the kitchen,’ I said rapidly.

‘Exactly.’ He grinned. Clearly diverted now. And then he glanced at his watch. ‘Actually, I have to go. I have a tutorial in ten minutes and I need to collect my papers. See you on Sunday, then. Oh – and thanks for lunch.’

‘No, thank you,’ I breathed, hopefully not too gustily. I seemed to be puffing and blowing like a force ten gale. I was very pink too, I was sure, as I stood up. He pecked my cheeks – hot cheeks, I was convinced – and then, whipping his navy scarf around his neck in that very stylish French way, he gave me another huge grin. God, he was good-looking. And then he was gone. I gazed down at my chicken wrap, enraptured. Suddenly I was starving. I sat and guzzled it down in minutes flat and drained my coffee. I wasn’t going to jail. Amanda was a lunatic. An attractive man had invited me to lunch and clearly found me attractive and enjoyed my company. I wanted to sing, I wanted to dance. Instead, I left the café, and pushing through the door to the street, raised my face to the heavens and sang ‘Hoorah!’ to anyone who was listening. A passing wino gave me a wink, but everyone else ignored me. A fool, on a high, in London.

Still glowing, I made my way back to my car and down the Edgware Road, towards the M4 and home. The traffic was light for once, and I whizzed along making good time. Ed Sheeran came on the radio and I turned him up loud and sang along. As I belted out the chorus to ‘Photograph’ it seemed to me that the only fly in the ointment, the only slight fly, if you could even call it a fly, half a fly, perhaps, was that I now appeared to have two men in my life. Only one that made my heart soar, admittedly, but I also knew that he might not even be in my life. Might simply have asked me to lunch to make up numbers. Far more likely. But still, it was a lovely conundrum to have. To possibly have. And a lovely friend to have, I decided, forcing myself to be sensible, if that’s all he became.