‘I know what you mean. I’m actually a writer myself. Well, trying to be. I’m working on a romantic comedy screenplay at the moment,’ said Evie. She had never really referred to herself as a writer before. She had always felt like too much of a fraud, because nothing she’d written had ever been produced. But she was determined to be bolder this time around. ‘Although, between my uni work, shifts at the cinema, and a profound talent for procrastination, I’m not making much progress,’ she added.

‘I know what you mean. I’ve been toiling over my story for nearly two years now. Researching, writing, editing, cutting material, rewriting. I can’t quite get it to come together,’ Hugo said with a sigh. ‘So I’ve set myself a three-month deadline to finish, and if I can’t get it done by then, I’ll go, tail between my legs, back to law.’

Evie smiled to herself. ‘It’ll work out. I just know it, Hugo.’

‘I appreciate the vote of confidence,’ Hugo replied with a chuckle.

As the sun dipped towards the cityscape on the horizon, Evie raised various topics she knew he was interested in. She realised she was cheating again, but she loved watching him light up when he was passionate about something.

As Hugo filled her glass with the last of the rosé, he turned serious. ‘I need to ask you something important.’

‘Oh. Sure.’ Evie’s stomach did a backflip. All her research might not have prepared her for this question.

‘Are you a cat person or a dog person?’

‘Definitely cats!’ Evie lied, with an inward sigh of relief. She knew Hugo owned a cat, but as well as not especially liking cats, she was terribly allergic to them. So much so that her entire family could no longer go to her uncle’s house at Christmastime due to his three Ragdoll cats: Sabrina, Hilda and Zelda. She would sneeze almost non-stop, putting everyone off their food, and one year the three felines had sealed the deal by almost smothering her in her sleep when they stretched out side by side over her face during her traditional post-Christmas-stuffing nap on the couch. After that, the Berrys celebrated Christmas in London. Her relationship with cats was tense, at best.

Hugo looked relieved, launching into a description of his Burmese cat, Bunny.

‘He sounds adorable.’ Lie.

‘You’ll have to come and meet him one day.’

‘I’d love to!’ Lie.

‘He has this hilarious sushi chef costume that he loves strutting about in when guests come over.’

‘What could be sweeter?’ Literally anything.