‘I like your top.’

‘Oh, this old thing.’

I make a pretence of having casually thrown it on, rather than the reality of the last few days spent yanking things off hangers in a desperate attempt to find something that fits. All my dresses and nice trousers are too tight. Since moving to Yorkshire I’ve been living in my old dungarees, which are dangerous as they have no waistband. It’s given me a new respect for Felicity Kendal in The Good Life. How on earth did she manage to make dungarees look so sexy? I do not look sexy.

In the end I gave in and ordered something online in a bigger size.

‘Here, let me get the chair.’

‘Oh . . . thank you.’

Ajay pulls out a chair for me.

‘Hang on – I need to do something.’

He reaches towards me unexpectedly. Instinctively I jerk backwards, but his fingers are already brushing against the side of my neck.

‘You left the tag on.’

My face flushes with embarrassment. ‘Oh . . . thanks.’

‘I have lots of old things in my wardrobe with the tags still on them,’ he smiles, putting me at ease. ‘So, tell me. What are you drinking?’

I smile back gratefully. ‘Whatever you are.’

Ajay goes to the bar to order me a glass of wine, and I nip to the loo to check my hair hasn’t gone frizzy in the rain; and the app on my phone, to see that Harry isn’t destroying the house. Relieved to discover both are fine, I return to the bar feeling more relaxed and discover Ajay has got us a bottle.

‘Well, it seemed easier. And cheaper,’ he adds sheepishly.

‘Great,’ I smile as he pours me a glass, but feel a bit worried. Now I can’t escape after one drink, if I want to.

‘Cheers.’ We chink glasses.

And I pull myself together, because being stuck sharing a bottle of wine with a handsome man wouldn’t exactly be the worst thing in the world, now would it?

‘. . . so that’s how I ended up renting out cars.’

We’ve spent the last twenty minutes filling each other in a little about our lives: where we grew up, our backgrounds, families. After my outburst at the car rental office, we already knew the spoilers in both our relationships, so neither of us mentions my divorce or his break-up. Instead I find myself speaking mostly about my childhood spent here in the Yorkshire Dales, and how both strange and yet familiar it is to find myself back again, while Ajay tells me about the severe bout of anxiety that caused him to drop out of criminal law – much to the horror of his parents – and how his job is only temporary until he figures out what he wants to do.

‘Still, it’s much less stressful than defending,’ he finishes.

‘Now you only have to deal with vomiting dogs,’ I add, and he laughs.

‘Sorry, that was all probably a bit heavy for a first date.’