He had been delighted with the way she’d set things up to be easy for him. Each student had a brief CV, a résumé of their work and a photograph, plus the notes they had both discussed, neatly printed up. They both had full sets. He was going to study his now, he said, so he had half a chance of remembering people’s names. What she hadn’t got round to asking him was why he’d agreed to do the course, at short notice, in the first place. But there’d be plenty of time to do that later. And there’d be plenty of time to make her move on him, in the way Monica would. It would be easy. She got ready for bed with a smile on her face.

Laura, aware that the students might find the section of the university allocated for the course a little difficult to find, even if they had been sent maps of the campus, had printed out (courtesy of the office) some huge signs, and the following day, she and Dermot waited optimistically in the room allocated to them, smiles ready to pin on the moment anyone looked like arriving. They were both nervous.

‘You do the opening bit and I’ll take it from there,’ said Dermot, walking up and down, reading old notices, opening and shutting cupboards and picking off bits of flaking paint.

‘I’ve never done any public speaking of any kind—’

‘Yes you have!’ objected Dermot. ‘You spoke to all those children. How many schools did you do in the end?’

‘Only three, and I couldn’t have done it at all if you hadn’t coached me. You should do it.’

‘I’m no teacher.’

‘But you’re a writer. That’s why they’re here!’ Why didn’t he understand the huge draw he was to the world? ‘Besides, you liar, you’ve done loads of teaching!’

He chuckled. ‘But not adults. I told you, I specialise in the under-elevens. And didn’t you introduce the writers at all those signings you arranged when you were at the bookshop?’

As she’d told him she had, she couldn’t very well deny it. ‘All I had to say was what a wonderful writer the author was and how grateful the shop was to everyone for coming.’

‘You could say that! I wouldn’t mind at all!’ He was laughing – at himself – at her – at the situation and looking at her in a slightly distracted way. Suddenly she found she couldn’t meet his gaze without blushing, so she didn’t. It was odd to see him so nervous. It was reassuring but at the same time she wasn’t quite sure if it was just nerves about the course that were making him glance at her every couple of minutes. It certainly wasn’t helping hers.