‘No.’ Finch held up his hand. ‘It’s been four years. I’m fine with it.’

He didn’t seem particularly fine to Romy, but as she was worrying how to reply without putting her foot in it even more firmly, Finch saved her by asking, ‘What’s your story?’

‘I’m not with anyone,’ Romy said quickly, her tone unintentionally fierce. She wasn’t even sure it had been what Finch’s question implied, but he would ask eventually, and she might as well get it out of the way.

He looked a bit startled. ‘OK …’ he said, and his wry expression made her laugh.

‘Sorry.’ She took a deep breath. ‘I’m separated, not actually divorced yet. Just getting going on a new life down here.’

Finch was regarding her with his steady brown eyes. She could not decide what he was thinking, but she was aware of relaxing under his gaze, as if she were letting something go – but also, at the same time, stirring something up. The feeling took her completely by surprise. She had not thought herself capable, not after what had happened.

Finch was a handsome man. Not in a chiselled, classical way, but his regular features were open and appealing, his brown hair and eyes, the healthy glow to his skin, those of a much younger man than someone in their late fifties – another fact dropped into her lap, unsolicited, by her gossipy neighbour.

‘I’m off to my bed.’ Stuart was looming over them, pulling on his purple North Face jacket and fiddling, head bent, with the zip.

‘I suppose I ought to go, too,’ Romy said reluctantly.

Finch yawned. ‘Yeah, I’m knackered.’

Outside the rain had stopped, but the March night was chilly and damp. Romy shivered after the warmth of the pub as they made their way along the lane towards the village-hall car park. She suddenly realized how tired she was, too, even though she hadn’t run the race.

Finch hesitated. He wasn’t looking at her as he clicked his key fob towards a silver Toyota parked along the fence, flashing on the orange indicator lights.

‘Maybe we could go for a walk or something, when the weather improves?’ He stared down at her in the half-light of the single security lamp high up on the bricks of the hall, his expression uncertain.

She smiled her agreement, but felt the panic rising. Do I want to see him again? The brief banter with an amusing man had been fun – more than fun – but way out of her recent comfort zone. So far out, indeed, that part of her hoped he wouldn’t get in touch. Because that would be simplest. She wasn’t sure she was ready … or would ever be. Men were not on her to-do list.