‘Oh yeah? So I’m your cheap entertainment?’

‘Not so cheap.’ He grins. ‘But definitely entertaining. I’d rather,’ the grin drops, and he takes my hand in his, ‘be here with you talking about Hugo and dating disasters, than be with anybody else in the world.’

I know he’s taking the mickey, but it’ll do for me.

‘So here I am ready to help you reflect on lessons learned.’

‘Haha. So forgetting all the flannel, basically you ducked out because it got personal with Daisy?’

‘Ooo I’m being analysed!’

‘Did a girl break your heart, Noah?’ We’re still in jokey-mode, and the question has come into my head from nowhere, but it has suddenly hit me. Why else would he be keener to spend time teaching a girl like me to date, than actually getting stuck in with a girl who knows the score and wants to play by his rules?

‘Haha, amateur psychologist, Rosie.’ He slumps down beside me and gazes up. Then reaches out and strokes my cheek with the back of his hand. It’s so tender and deliberate all the antagonism between us disappears; it brings a lump to my throat. I must have drunk more than I thought. ‘Guys already fancy the pants off you, you’re beautiful.’ I shiver involuntarily, gulp. I should move, I should go now. ‘Look, Rosie.’ He puts a hand over mine and leans in even closer, confidentially. ‘Before we go any further, there’s something you need to know about me.’

‘What do you mean before we go any further?’ I whisper back, my throat all sandpapery.

‘With the lessons, before we get to the real nitty gritty and you fall madly in love with me.’

The way he says it, so matter of fact, hits the intense moment on the head. It’s gone, just like that. I laugh. ‘I’m not going to fall madly in love with you! Big head!’

‘You are, unless you know. You see,’ he leans in even closer, until his nose brushes against my skin, lowers his voice to a very loud whisper, ‘love is horrible.’ He sinks back onto the seat as though the announcement has exhausted him. We’re still shoulder to shoulder, our fingers close enough to entwine, but he’s miles away. ‘A total ball-breaker. You never recover from it.’ He nods his head. ‘Honest, cross my heart. I know. It is evil, so,’ he taps the back of my hand, ‘don’t do it, Rosie-Posie.’

‘Oh, Noah.’ I want to hug him, but I resist. Is this what he was talking about, love that went wrong? ‘It can be evil, but it doesn’t have to be.’ I mean, I know exactly about the bad side of love, don’t I? The totally in lust, passionate, destructive type of love that can practically remove all common sense and replace it with a lack of impulse control and make a person put up with crap they really shouldn’t. This is what I’ve been trying to tell him – that safe, sensible love is a much better option. ‘It doesn’t have to be like that, not all kinds of love are evil. You just have to find the right one, who won’t hurt you, or cheat on you …’ My words drift off, he’s giving me a funny raised-eyebrow look. I’ll save that speech for another time. ‘Who did this to you? Who was she?’ I know it’s not really any of my business, but I feel like I want to know who’s hurt him so hard he feels he has to veer away from any woman he might fall for. Because maybe he’s not the same as Dad at all. Maybe he’s more like me. Afraid to fall too deeply for somebody who might hurt him all over again.