Sylvester’s physical weakness made her feel safer still. Bullish men made her nervous. Even now she suffered the odd flashback, the feeling of someone creeping up on her in the night. The old dreams of someone hurting her, of people attacking Mum and Dad, or her sister, or even Josh, were fewer now, but she still had them whenever she was under stress. Then she would wake up sweating and fearful. All she could do was hope that one day she could leave the past behind her and move on with her life.

So it was lunch in the diner on Valentine’s Day. No big deal. Nothing to either of them. They were friends, not lovers. The very idea was ridiculous. Sylvester was much older than her, they looked more like father and daughter out for lunch together. So what he had to say when they’d finished lunch on that Valentine’s Day shocked her to the core.

‘Claire? Will you marry me?’

The diner was packed and noisy. She thought she’d misheard him. ‘What?’

‘I said, will you marry me.’ Sylvester was blushing like a boy. He held up a hand. ‘Hear me out, will you?’

‘Sylvester—’

‘No, just listen. I like you, Claire. I’ve always liked you. And I know you’ve had troubles in your life, and I hate the idea of that. What I would like . . .’ His voice trembled. ‘What I would like is to keep you safe. To treasure you. Because I think a great deal of you, Claire. I really do.’

She sat there, stunned. The waitress came over and refilled their coffees, and went away again. Sylvester kept his eyes fixed on Claire’s face.

‘Listen . . .’ she started, unsure of what she was going to say.

‘Think it over, will you?’ His voice was pleading.

‘Oh God. Sylvester. I can’t.’ She really couldn’t, and for reasons that she couldn’t possibly explain to him.

For one thing, she could never bear to have sex with anyone. That was gone for her. The very idea terrified her. For another, he was old. And she was still young. And another thing, a very important one. She could only ever love Josh. No one else would do for her. Not even a kind man like Sylvester. She was strictly a one-man woman.

‘I’m sorry,’ she said, touching his hand across the table. ‘The answer’s no.’

Sylvester nodded and held up a hand. The waitress brought the bill and he settled up while Claire pulled on her coat, struggling for normality. She couldn’t believe he’d said that. But he had. Then as they left the table he caught her hand, and to her shock brought it to his lips and quickly kissed it.

‘I really like you, Claire,’ he said. ‘And don’t worry. This doesn’t change anything. I promise you that.’