And off he went. I was glad he hadn’t pressed me into spending more time with him or suggesting drinks at his place and the possibility of getting physical. I needed time to think, to absorb this new turn my life had taken, and I had the dates with Stuart and Michael still to come. Seeing Michael at the wedding and spending time with him there had stirred up so many old feelings. He had been the great love of my life, a fact I’d tried to bury for so many years, not because my feelings for him had changed but because he had left and I’d had no choice but to suppress what was there. No doubt about it, he was the one who had got away, but now he was back. Perhaps it had been right man, wrong time, and now it could be the right time. He had certainly been attentive at the wedding; looks were exchanged that lingered too long and reminded me of the strong pull of attraction there had always been. I was looking forward to spending some proper time with him alone; a chance to get to know him again, find out who he really was now and what he wanted.

And then, of course, there was Stuart: suddenly single, suddenly available. How long had I wished for such a thing, never thinking for a moment that it would actually happen.

So now there were three contenders, serious contenders, for my lonely heart. Could one of them have been Billy Jackson in a previous life? Did it even matter? Surely what mattered was in the here and now, in this present life? So … Stuart, Jon or Michael? You don’t have to decide just yet, I told myself as I felt my stomach knot.

49

Stuart was waiting for me outside the pub behind the square in Highgate. His face lit up when he saw me, and he strode towards me and gave me a warm hug. I felt nervous and tongue-tied, fifty going on fifteen, and out on a first date with a boy I had a crush on.

‘Ready to rock and roll?’ I asked in an attempt to disguise my nerves.

Stuart pulled a face. ‘I hope it wasn’t a mistake asking you to come. We haven’t had time to practise much. Don’t feel you have to stay if you hate it.’

I realized he was as tense as I was, though about doing a gig rather than seeing me. We went inside. Stuart got me a drink and a seat in the corner of the pub then went to take his place with his musician friends. There were four of them, men who, like Stuart, looked in their fifties, with grey hair and an assortment of cowboy shirts between them. Two guitarists, Stuart on keyboards and a harmonica player.