Tom messaged me again in the afternoon to let me know one half of the pub was for dining only, so he’d meet me in the bar area and we could find a drinks-only table from there.

I get there just over ten minutes early, having called a cab from my house. I definitely need a drink after the day I’ve had. I’m not the sort of person who likes to be late, and I prefer to get my bearings and feel comfortable with my surroundings before things kick off. I’ve not been in here since they’ve done it up. In fact, I don’t think I ever came in here before they did it up. It’s busy for a weekday evening, and I wonder how many of the couples and families will be heading through to the restaurant to eat.

I order a soft drink from the bar — don’t want to be getting too far ahead of myself — and sit down at a small table in the corner by the window. At least this way I’ll be able to see when Tom arrives. He’ll be driving, he said, as he needs to be up early for work in the morning.

After a few minutes, I see a white Audi pull into the car park. PCP White, my dad would call it, referring to the fact that so many people decided to ‘buy’ cars on Personal Contract Purchase plans nowadays, and kept the monthly payments down by choosing the basic white paintwork. I watch as Tom gets out of the car, and I decide I probably won’t tell him that little anecdote.

He’s instantly recognisable from his picture, and that immediately earns him an extra point. Too many people seem to have old photos on their profile, or ones which have been doctored or filtered to make them look better than they actually do. He’s taller than I imagined, but not by much. He’s wearing a smart jumper over a shirt with light-coloured chinos and brown shoes, and seems as though he’d fit in perfectly with the rest of the clientele here. Might have to be careful I don’t lose him in a crowd.

He spots me as soon as he walks in, and I stand up as he makes his way over and plants a kiss on my cheek.

‘How are you?’ he asks.

‘I’m good,’ I reply. ‘Busy in here tonight.’

‘Must have chosen the right place then,’ he says, winking. ‘Would you like a drink?’

I’ve nearly finished my soft drink, so I tell him I’d like a glass of red. I stare absentmindedly out the window until he comes back from the bar with a non-alcoholic beer, and he sits down on the opposite side of the table.

‘So whereabouts do you live?’ he says. ‘I don’t think we ever actually did that bit.’

I laugh and tell him I live in the next town along. He lives in the opposite direction, but only a couple of miles away. I go to say it’s odd we’ve never bumped into each other before, but I’m not originally from round here and, judging by his accent, neither is he.