‘I do . . . I really do.’

‘Thanks, Constance. I knew you’d make me feel better about it all. You calm me.’

I smiled.

‘You know what? I’m not going near a woman again unless I truly have feelings for her.’

I tried to think of something worse you could have said, something more hurtful, more cutting, but I couldn’t.

‘Do you want some crisps?’ I pulled open the packet and ripped the foil apart with my teeth.

‘Anyway . . . sorry, Constance. I’m so selfish . . . How are you? So, a boyfriend, eh?’

‘I’m OK, thanks.’

You sat back, smiling, watched me as I ate the crisps. I felt so self-conscious I could barely swallow. ‘What?’

‘No . . . no . . . I shouldn’t . . .’

‘Tell me.’

It was then you moved away the coats wedged between us. Sidled closer and whispered, ‘Well, I . . . I shouldn’t say this, but I really don’t like that you’ve got a boyfriend.’ As soon as the words entered my ear, you stood. ‘Sorry . . . sorry . . . Ignore that. I shouldn’t have said it. I’m going to the loo . . . Ignore me.’

Alone, I drank my Coke with the pretence that your words hadn’t set me alight. That they weren’t the words I’d fantasized about hearing. Words that were now cemented deep in my head, my heart. Impossible to ignore, regardless of your instruction.

‘Shall we get out of here?’ You’d returned and were reaching for your coat.

I silently agreed and did the same. Unsure of your intentions as I buttoned up. ‘Don’t forget your card.’

‘No, thank you. They can throw it . . . Gives me the bloody creeps.’

I smiled. ‘Good idea,’ I said, allowing my scarf to slip from my fingers.

Outside, bitten by the cold, we headed down the road. I stopped, raised my hands in exasperation. ‘I’ve left my bloody scarf inside. I thought I was extra cold.’

‘You’re as bad as me, Constance. Let me—’

‘No, no, don’t be daft. I won’t be a sec.’ Before you could argue, I was running back towards the entrance.

Inside, I mingled with the two couples settling into our seats, apologizing as I dipped under the table.

‘It’s my scarf . . . I left my scarf.’ I re-emerged, head full of blood. ‘Sorry . . . and this . . . I forgot this as well,’ I said as I pushed my arm between the men’s bodies, sliding the card off the table and into my bag.

Outside your flat, you asked if I wanted to come up for coffee.

I did think about Dale. Of course I did. But should we deny ourselves happiness if it presents itself? A happiness that for me had been so rare.