Rivka flung her hand up. ‘Horrified that you guessed it was him, more like.’

The waiter appearing with the wine stopped conversation momentarily but both women moved restlessly in their seats and when he’d gone, they both spoke at the same time.

‘I’m sorry–’

‘You don’t–’

‘You first,’ Jodie said, sitting back with her arms folded.

Rivka picked up her glass and took a mouthful. ‘I’m sorry if you feel I’m bursting your bubble, but I have to be straight with you. We’ve been friends, a long time, I don’t want to see you hurt.’

‘You don’t understand, you haven’t met him or seen us together.’ Frustration made her voice tremble. ‘We are made for each other. I remember you telling me about the concept of yin and yang, about how seemingly opposite forces may actually be complementary, but I didn’t really understand it until now.’

‘What are you saying? That you’re yin to his yang?’

Jodie shook her head. ‘No, actually, the opposite. I’m the stronger of us, which makes me the yang. Flynn is receptive, a listener, charming and somewhat easily led. He could do with a strong woman like me.’ She looked at her friend, hoping to see a dawning of understanding in her eyes. But her expression was guarded. ‘We fit together. Please, wait until you meet him and you’ll understand.’

‘Fine. I’ll reserve judgement.’

‘At least you resisted the temptation to say, “don’t come crying to me when it all goes pear-shaped”,’ Jodie said with a grin.

‘Only by biting my tongue,’ Rivka admitted and returned the smile. ‘You’re my oldest friend, I don’t want to see you hurt.’ She reached across the table and held Jodie’s hand. ‘And yes, I know it’s part of life, of relationships, but you’re not eighteen anymore, the cut will be deeper, the pain more intense, more long-lasting.’

Jodie pressed the hand that held hers. ‘Stop worrying. Some things are worth the risk.’

Jodie went straight home after lunch. It had become second nature now to scan each man’s face as she walked down the busy streets and through the bustling train station. Each man in the carriage she sat in was given a once-over as if she were waiting for a little voice somewhere deep in her subconscious to suddenly go, Aha, that’s him.

And if it did. If she looked across and knew it was Victor… what would she do? Accost him… look him in the eye and remember the childhood he had ended so abruptly… remember the baby she had given away… remember the feeling of love.

She shut her suddenly wet eyes and took a few deep breaths. There was more at stake, more to lose. It took only moments to regain control and she opened eyes that were dry.