Bev gave her an odd look as if to say, what are you doing? Whilst Pete was completely oblivious, transfixed as he was on the film. Another fifteen minutes must have passed, and Emma began to relax a little. The sweets were still held fast on top of her knees and were probably melting by now.

Then, just as she was concentrating on the film again, she felt another small tug at the bag, and his hand slid down beneath the bag to the inside of her kneecap as he gave her a wink. Oh, for Christ’s sake. It certainly wasn’t the chocolate he was after, was it? Thank goodness she’d put her thick tights on. He seemed the sort who’d be up and under your knicker elastic in under thirty seconds. Jeez!

‘Right,’ she fumed, in a strained whisper. ‘Take the bloody pack.’ She slammed them at him and got up, excusing herself to a middle-aged couple who had to stand up from their seats to let her pass. ‘Sorry, sorry. Trip to the ladies needed.’ She fumbled out of the row in the near dark. An usher then guided her to the rear of the cinema with a torch.

She hadn’t needed the loo, but sat down in a cubicle anyhow, still fuming and scheming her exit plan. Go right now? That seemed a bit rude to Bev and Pete. But could she suffer the rest of the film? Possibly, but there was absolutely no way she was going out for a meal with old Fondle Fingers now. He’d be trying to pleasure her with a poppadum or something.

She texted her brother: Ring me at nine o’clock sharp. Please x There must only be twenty minutes or so left of the film. They’d be on their way out by then. Say the dog’s been sick and I need to come home straight away. You’d be my hero x

I hope I’m your hero already ;) bounced back. Will do. What on earth are you up to?

Tell you later. Thanks, you’re a star. X

Then she texted Bev: He’s a right letch. Soz, but I’m gonna have to dash.

Emma hung about a bit, washed her hands, checked her lip gloss in the mirror, and made it back to her seat for the final minutes of the film. This was the last time she was going to be persuaded to go on a blind date, possibly any kind of date at all. She didn’t care if she ended up as some mad cat or spaniel lady, living on her own.