‘Francesca!’ His whole face lit up and I knew this was real. I remembered that smile. It was the same one I’d seen when I first saw him on the terrace at the ball. ‘I can’t believe you’re here.’

‘This is where I always am,’ I replied as Jess repeatedly kicked at my shins under the table. ‘I can’t believe you’re here.’

He stood a few feet away, a look of complete accomplishment on his face while I silently admonished myself for choosing to dress like a children’s television presenter from 1984 that morning.

‘Hello, Evan, I’m Jess.’ She stood up and took his hand in hers, pumping it up and down enthusiastically. ‘Now, I’m going to pop up to the counter while you two do whatever this is. Can I get you anything?’

‘No, thank you,’ Evan replied, remembering his manners. ‘Nice to meet you, Jess.’

‘And you,’ she said, shoving her entire fist into her mouth as she walked away before mouthing ‘he’s so hot’ and fanning herself with her hands.

He was still stood beside the table, beaming at me in a tailored grey overcoat and black leather gloves, looking every inch the polished New Yorker. Which might have been fine in a coffee shop in Manhattan but in a cosy café in Sheffield, he stood out like a sore but beautifully dressed thumb. I busily straightened up the faded red dinosaur sweatshirt I’d chucked on when I woke up and pulled my hair out of its ponytail before putting it right back up again.

‘What are you doing here?’ I asked.

‘Can I sit?’ he replied.

‘Yes, of course,’ I said, watching as he attempted to origami his legs into a package small enough to fit under the low table. ‘What are you doing here?’

‘Didn’t have anything else to do.’

Over by the counter, Jess was still staring at him and, I realized when I took a look around the café, so was everyone else. But Evan only had eyes for me. He was looking at me as though he couldn’t quite believe I was real, as though he was the one who had the right to be surprised.

‘All right, how are you here?’ I said, starting a new line of questioning. ‘How did you find me? Are you Batman?’

‘I wish,’ he replied, eyes bugging out of his head as took off his gloves and peeled off the grey coat to reveal a gorgeous charcoal jumper underneath. ‘Although it would be a lot of pressure. What if you’re in the bathroom when the Bat Signal goes up? How do you explain to Commissioner Gordon you didn’t stop a crime because you were, you know, taking care of personal business?’

‘It always seemed inefficient to me,’ I agreed. ‘Can they not just text him like normal people?’