Soon I’ll be in too deep, which means I’ve got to stop this right now. I’ve got to do what my mother didn’t. Turn away from the charm. Walk away. Not be like her.

I never want to be the girl who gets stood up on her wedding anniversary: getting stood up on a first date was bad enough.

Let’s face it, this is a man who doesn’t even believe in love. He’s not just a commitment-phobe, he genuinely believes it ruins lives.

The moment he spots me though he turns away from her and I can almost see him brace – ready for impact. Then he smiles tentatively. Bea nudges me, hard, with her elbow.

Oh heck, the man is heading my way. We’re on a collision course.

‘If the mountain won’t come to Mohammed.’ He twinkles at me.

‘Are you calling me a mountain?’ Keep this light, Rosie.

The twinkle fades. ‘Have I done something?’

Kissed me. Touched me. Done everything that some tiny part inside me wanted you to, but the sensible on the outside couldn’t cope with.

Yes, Noah, you have done something. It was amazing.

‘No.’ I smile.

‘That’s not a real Rosie smile! Come on, you’re avoiding me, which is a pretty awesome accomplishment in a back garden.’ He tries a grin again. But we both know it’s strained. ‘Why did you run?’ His tone has softened. I love the way he does that, the way he can make me feel like I’m important.

‘I saw Dad.’

He frowns.

‘He was watching us and …’

‘And?’

I swallow down the lump in my throat. Try and work out how to explain.

‘And who do we have here?’ The loud voice booms out behind me – so that everybody can hear, and a fair number turn and glance our way.

I wish the ground would open up and swallow me.

‘Dad, this is, er my friend, Noah, Noah this is my father.’

‘Friend?’ He laughs, but it’s not a nice laugh. ‘At least this one has got something about him, I suppose.’ Then he looks me over. ‘Well Ro, I see you took my advice and finally decided to try and make something of yourself, change your hair.’

‘I did it for me.’

He smiles. ‘And have you managed to find a job that’s a bit more interesting?’

‘I like my job, Dad.’

‘Hmm well, we’ll talk about that later. And your, er, man.’ He gives Noah a final once-over and marches away before either of us can say anything.

I feel exhausted. Worn out. Drained. I want to cry.

Noah is looking at me. ‘How can you let him talk to you like that?’

‘He’s my dad!’

‘And you’re an adult, Rosie! He’s got no right to slag you off, you deserve better, and so does your mother. He’s just got another woman pregnant, and he’s having a go at you for kissing me?’ There’s a note of incredulity in his voice. ‘Come on, Rosie, you can’t let him run your life like this.’