The congregation rose to sing, as the music continued to wend its way through the space. Olivia couldn’t remember the last time she’d heard live music, and each note plucked at her soul now, the sonorous melody, the beautiful words, the sense of expectation, for all the songs, being Advent hymns and carols, were about waiting. Rejoice... for something good is coming... something you can’t even imagine...

As the congregation sat down for an orchestral piece, Olivia found her gaze sneaking to Simon again, his long fingers gripping the cello and bow, an unruly lock of hair sliding forward, obscuring his face. He wore a crisp blue button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his forearms and a pair of brown cords, and Olivia’s heart gave a little lurch as she watched him play.

I like him, she realised with a jolt. Not just a fun crush or a passing interest, the way she’d panned it off to her friends. She thought of the way his eyes lit up, the easy, goofy smile, the enthusiasm about everything that he seemed to have. I really like him and I want to get to know him better.

It had been a long time since she’d felt that way about anyone, the interest along with the hope. A long time since she’d even considered putting herself out there, risking her pride along with her comfort to meet and reach another person.

She would be forty next birthday, after all, and she was rather set in her ways. Relationships at her age were a whole other kettle of fish than when you were in your twenties or even thirties, when you hadn’t become settled in your life, the crow’s feet making their faint prints on your skin, as well as the scars into your soul. When you’d fought for happiness and found it, and inviting someone new in meant risking overturning everything.

Of course, she was getting way ahead of herself now. She barely knew Simon, and his invitation for her to come to this concert might have been no more than the actions of a keen musician, a kindly neighbour, or both. She would be foolish to read anything more into it, and yet...

And yet, she felt something more, and that was enough to make her want to act. Take a risk, even if it was just asking Simon out for a drink. Olivia imagined telling her friends what she’d got up to at their next wine evening and she smiled at the thought.

When the evening had ended, the musicians all took a quick bow before filing out, leaving Olivia to mill around in the back of the church with the other concert-goers, sipping a plastic cup of mulled wine and nibbling a mince pie that definitely was not as good as hers.

She saw a few people she knew, and chatted to Gwyneth Larsen, the dear old lady who bought a box of macaroons from her several times a week. A school mum who had come in several times for coffee wished her a happy Christmas, and Edith Payne, a friend of her mother’s who had afternoon tea twice a week like clockwork, buttonholed her by the drinks table.