He stepped in closer, until their faces were only centimetres apart. ‘It still is.’

Not Spencer! her little internal alarm squawked. It was the first time she’d heard it that evening, but even now it was weak and half-hearted. Instead of reacting to it as she normally did, she turned and faced it. Replied to it.

No, he’s not Spencer, she told it, both firmly and gently, like a primary school teacher explaining a basic rule to a new batch of rosy-cheeked four-year-olds. But maybe that’s okay. Maybe I just need to jump over this hurdle and it won’t be such a big thing going forwards.

And just to prove it she leaned in and kissed Jeremy. As soon as her lips touched his, his arms came around her, pulling her closer, deepening the kiss a little. It was strange – he kissed differently from how Spencer had kissed. It wasn’t all tingling skin and fireworks like it had been with her husband, but it wasn’t horrible either. It was a nice kiss, a perfectly fine kiss.

When he pulled away, he said, ‘Would you like to do dinner again – next Saturday, if that’s not too soon?’

Anna nodded once more, and then realized that talking might help her seem less of a wet lettuce, and added, ‘Next Saturday it is.’ They kissed again, and then he turned and walked down the path.

She watched him for a moment, then slipped inside, closing the door softly behind herself. She shrugged off her jacket and dropped it on the chair in the hallway, then went into the living room and sat down in the corner of the big sofa and stared straight ahead.

Did I just do that? Did I actually just kiss another man?

It all seemed a bit unreal.

Are you okay with this? she silently whispered into the air, once again wishing more than anything that Spencer could answer her. She was pretty sure, logically speaking, he’d want her to be happy, to take life by the horns the way he had always done, but thinking it in her head and feeling it in her heart were two completely different things.

She reached over and turned on a lamp, and as she did so, she realized she was sitting in the spot she always nestled in when she phoned Brody. Instinctively, she reached into her bag and pulled her mobile out, preparing to dial his number.

A missed call? From Brody? Anna blinked and checked the time. The call log said it had gone unanswered at ten thirty-eight. About five minutes ago – about the time she’d been standing on her front doorstep kissing Jeremy. She prepared to hit the button to call him back, but then hesitated.

It was a reflex now, she realized, to reach for her phone and call Brody any time anything significant happened in her life, good or bad, but even though she’d glibly told him that she’d give him all the gory details of her date, she wasn’t sure she wanted to.