They chatted a little more about work and their past couple of days. He said he’d been extremely snowed under which was why he hadn’t rung sooner. He then asked after Alfie, who she remembered would actually need his post-supper walk very soon. And then Max drew the conversation to a close. ‘So, I’ll be up Saturday afternoon, then.’

‘Yes, great. I’ll have to work until five when the shop closes, though.’ She couldn’t afford to lose business. ‘But I do get Sunday morning off.’ She usually used the time to make more chocolates, but she could easily reorganise her weekend, and work later on Friday night.

‘Great,’ he echoed. ‘Maybe we could go for a walk, take Alfie out Sunday morning.’

‘Yes, I’d like that.’

‘And Saturday evening, have a think on a nice place to go for supper.’

‘Okay, will do.’

This was sounding like a proper date. And no Malteser-Man thigh-rubbing date at that. Actually, if it had been Max trying to tease his way in to her Maltesers pack via her inner thigh, from the way she was feeling right now, she might well have let him!

24

She really wasn’t sure what to wear on this date – and yes, this really was a proper date, which made it feel far more pressured.

Max had texted several times since he’d contacted her. After having a chat and a bit of a heart-to-heart with Bev, Emma had sent him over a couple of suggestions for suitable supper venues – away from the prying eyes of the village this time – and he’d booked a table at Henry’s, one of Bev’s recommendations, a bistro in the pretty coastal town of Alnmouth just down the coast. Emma hadn’t been sure herself where to suggest as it had been such a long time since she had eaten out, other than a quick snack in The Fisherman's Arms or at Bev’s house. Finances hadn’t stretched to a slap-up meal-for-one for many years.

So, back to the outfit. She’d already rejected jeans – too casual; the black trousers – too work, and a low-cut top – too obvious. Back to the wardrobe. Dresses: there weren’t a huge selection of those, but she gave them a frisk over. Her Little Black Dress? Oh, she’d worn that at a Christmas Ball many years ago with Luke in Durham; they’d gone along with a group of teachers and had had such a lovely night. She sat down on the bed for a few moments, crushing the velvet to her; disappointingly, it only smelt of her, not him.

What on earth was she doing, going out on a date with another man? This just didn’t feel right. But Max would be on his way by now. It would be downright rude to cancel at the last minute.