“Yes, if not the usual one. My dad scarpered when I was two.” She spoke matter-of-factly, slightly offhand, as she always did when people asked about her father.

Simon grimaced, a look of sympathy in his eyes. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine. My mum did the job for both of them.”

“Which makes what’s happening now all the harder.”

“Well, yes.” She’d told him something of that before, and of course he’d remembered. “I suppose it would feel a bit different if I were married,” she said, and then realised how that sounded. “I mean...that’s what Mum said. She doesn’t want to burden me when I’m on my own, the only one to cope with what’s happening.”

“That’s understandable.” Thankfully Simon didn’t seem fazed by her marriage comment. Hopefully he hadn’t thought the subtext was she needed to snag a man so she could deal with her ailing mother. What a way to kill a first date. “Have you ever come close?” he asked lightly.

“To what?”

“Marriage. Kids. All that.”

“No, not really.” She hesitated, wondering how far she wanted to delve into her decidedly uninteresting romantic history, and then decided why not? At her age she should put all her cards on the table, and really, there weren’t that many. “I had a serious boyfriend for a few years about ten years ago. We talked about it, but it never felt right. And after that everything was pretty casual.” Which made her sound as if she hooked up all the time, which was so far from the truth it was ludicrous. “I mean, a couple of dates here and there. Mainly there.”

Simon gave a rueful laugh. “I suppose I’m the same.”

“No one serious?”

“Similar to you. I was engaged about fifteen years ago, in my twenties, to another musician. We met in uni and then she got a gig travelling the world with an orchestra. It was for eighteen months, and I thought we’d survive it, but then I got a ‘Dear John’ email from Singapore. It wasn’t meant to be.”

“No, that’s how I’ve always thought. If I’d really want to get married, I would have done. I wouldn’t have been so picky.”

“And now?” Simon asked, his gaze serious enough to make her squirm a little. “How do you feel about all that now?”

Gulp. Was this really the kind of question to ask on a first date? But of course it was; neither of them were getting any younger. No point in wasting time if they wanted different things in life.

“Honestly?” Olivia rotated her wineglass by its stem as she considered his question—and her answer. “I don’t know. In London I was always happy enough, being the honorary auntie, the godmother, the best friend.”

“All supporting roles.”

She was gratified he got it so quickly. “Exactly. And that really suited me fine. I liked having my freedom—my own place, Saturdays to do with as I chose, always able to decide what I want to eat or watch on telly.”