“Yes,” Ellie answered slowly, “I can understand that. I felt a bit like that with Oliver, at the start. I had Abby to consider, and we were both from such different backgrounds...”

“I suppose it’s always complicated, isn’t it? I mean two people trying to make their lives work together... It’s never easy.”

“No, but this is the fun part, surely?” Ellie asked, concern crinkling her brow. “The getting-to-know-you part, that first rush of—of excitement?”

“Yes, that part’s lovely.” Although Simon still hadn’t kissed her, at least not properly. They’d had another awkward few moments at the door on Sunday night, shifting from foot to foot while they smiled uncertainly at one another before Simon leaned in and kissed her—on the cheek. His lips had been cool and soft and Olivia had been tempted—very tempted—to turn her face so their mouths collided. But she hadn’t, because Simon seemed determined to take things slow, at least in that regard, and she could respect that. She wasn’t some teenager to be slave to her hormones, although sometimes she felt like one.

“So what’s the not-easy part?” Ellie asked.

“I suppose I’m just a little scared,” Olivia admitted. “I haven’t had a lot of relationships. I haven’t really seen the point.”

“Why not?”

She shrugged, uncomfortable. “I never met someone who seemed worth the risk.”

“Ah, the risk.” Ellie nodded in understanding. “It’s so hard to put yourself out there when you’ve been hurt before.”

“But I haven’t been hurt before, not really,” Olivia protested. “I called off my most serious relationships, and the dates that petered out hardly scarred my soul.” Ellie gave her a funny look, as if Olivia was missing something obvious. “What?”

“It’s just...I would have thought...I mean your dad. His leaving. That surely left a mark on you?”

“My dad...” Olivia repeated, surprised. She never even thought about her dad. She never wondered about him, why he left, what he might be doing now. Her mum hadn’t told her much, just that it hadn’t worked out and they were better off, just the two of them. She’d been briskly practical about it all, and she’d shown Olivia a few photos of the man who had fathered her. There was one of the three of them at Christmas, sitting in front of a fireplace; another at Blackpool, the pewter-coloured sea stretching out behind them.

“He’s a good man, Olivia, but he wasn’t cut out to be a father. We’re fine as we are, aren’t we, love?” And Olivia had always assured her that they were.

“Olivia...?” Ellie prompted. “Sorry if I’m overstepping the mark. I just thought...that’s kind of a big thing, isn’t it? To have your dad walk out?”

“I suppose,” Olivia said, even as part of her thought, yes, of course it is. A very big deal. Yet she’d never acted as if it was, never felt the need to work through issues of rejection or abandonment. “It must seem strange to you, but I’ve never really thought about it. I was always happy with Mum and me, and I couldn’t even remember my father.”