‘It’s rather a long story,’ he replied, sitting down opposite her, ‘and something of a tedious one, unfortunately. In a nutshell: blame the ex-wife!’ He gave a loud laugh that didn’t sound remotely genuine, and Alison heard a warning bell jangle in her head. Oh dear. No home, an ongoing feud with his ex . . . First impressions could be misleading, sure, but she had a strong feeling that here was another man who was not at all ready to be out in the dating world, when there was clearly so much baggage in his life. And no, she didn’t mean the three very full Morrisons bags slumped against his ankles. (Honestly, though, why were these men so desperate to get back out there? Why couldn’t they wait thirty or so years, like she had? At this rate, she would be waiting another thirty before she met anyone remotely suitable.)

At least the food was meant to be good here, she consoled herself, studying the menu. Now, what to choose – haddock or scampi? Steak? Ooh – someone on the next table had a burger, which looked nice and juicy, she noticed. Although burgers could be very messy to eat, couldn’t they? She didn’t want to be getting ketchup all over her fingers and embarrassing herself. Forget the burger.

‘Is that your phone ringing?’ Alastair asked after a moment.

‘Sorry, what?’ she asked, lost in her thoughts. ‘My phone! Yes. Thank you, it is.’ She reached down and took it from her bag – Robyn, she saw on the screen. With an apologetic grimace at her daughter’s name, she sent the call to voicemail, not wanting Robyn to know what she was doing. You’re on a date? Cool! she imagined the response, practically breathless with enthusiasm. How’s it going? Is he nice-looking? Text me a sneaky photo!

Alastair was watching her as she put the phone away. ‘I saw that look,’ he commented. ‘Don’t tell me – that’s your ex ringing up. Mine always picks the worst moment too.’

Ah, there she was – the ex, popping up at the table once again. Come on, love, pull up a chair if you’re going to be with us for the whole evening, Alison thought, trying not to show her irritation. ‘Actually my ex is dead,’ she said, turning back to the menu. ‘It was a long time ago,’ she added quickly, in case she’d made him feel awkward. People always felt they had to say sorry when you told them your other half had died, and then they’d give you that sad, worried face, and you could tell they were wondering if you were about to burst into tears.