‘Well, cheers to discovering new things then,’ said Priyesh, raising his glass to hers. ‘And cheers to that beautiful meal, too.’ He had a twinkle in his eye, and Penny understood exactly which direction the night was rapidly going to go in. He was a paradox: outwardly buttoned-up but underneath cheeky and provocative. She liked it. ‘I’m glad I got a taste of your maple-soy tofu. Never in a million years would I have ordered that myself.’

‘Tofu is so hard to get right,’ said Penny. ‘But I had a feeling they’d smash it here.’

‘I think my starter was my favourite, then your tofu, and then the dessert. I’m such a sucker for anything with passion fruit.’

‘And yet that is my least favourite fruit,’ said Penny.

‘Come on,’ uttered Priyesh. ‘You’re leaving that one wide open to some letchy comment about passion and its place in your life. Don’t make me do that.’

Penny laughed. ‘You’re right,’ she said. ‘That was short-sighted of me. I shouldn’t put you in any kind of position that means jokes about tropical fruit are on the table.’

‘I appreciate your understanding,’ Priyesh said. There was no denying that Penny was charmed by him.

‘So,’ she said. ‘I know all about how you got into wine because of your sister-in-law, and now I know about your affinity for war dramas, occasional show tunes and that you own two rescue cats that make your furniture smell …’

‘Hey,’ he responded. ‘You’re sworn to secrecy on the show tunes, remember. Nobody else needs to know that I cried at Billy Eliot.’

‘Got it,’ Penny sniggered, a little tipsy. ‘Tell me something that I still don’t know, though,’ she invited. ‘You’ve told me the top-line stuff, but what about your hopes and dreams and fears and loves and losses? You’re this enigma to me – and to everyone at the pub, too. Who is Priyesh … wait. What’s your last name, even?’

Priyesh smiled. ‘Jones.’

‘Priyesh Jones.’

‘You were expecting me to say Singh or Khan, weren’t you? Or Patel?’

Penny looked horrified. ‘No!’ she said. ‘No! Just because you’re …’ she didn’t know the right word. She was terrified she seemed racist, or worse – plain ignorant.

‘It’s okay, I’m just joshing,’ said Priyesh. ‘My mother is from India, and my father is from Coventry. Hence Jones, but with brown skin.’

‘Do you get on with them well, your parents?’

‘I do,’ said Priyesh. ‘I have a lot of respect for them.’

He didn’t ask her about her parents in return, and it occurred to Penny that he must know she didn’t have any.