Francesco bit his lip, just slightly. ‘I think you can.’

Penny shook her head. ‘I’m not very good at it.’

Softly, he said, ‘You’re better than you think.’

Penny felt herself blush. ‘Are you trying to unnerve me?’

‘That wouldn’t be very gallant, would it? No. I’m not trying to unnerve you. I think I’m actually a bit unnerved myself.’

Penny liked his forthrightness, and his vulnerability. ‘Why were you delivering bread that day when you’re Chef Cipolla?’ she asked.

Francesco laughed. ‘I was in the wrong place at the wrong time,’ he replied.

‘Meaning?’

‘Meaning, I’d woken up at Safiya’s house because I’d slept on her sofa the night before, after I’d got very, very drunk with her and Michael. Michael is my friend, he’s the one that fell off the bike.’

‘Michael. I see. And is he okay now?’

‘He is, but his fragile sense of masculinity took a bashing and somehow, in amongst it all, I think he and Safiya broke up.’

Penny opened her mouth to speak, maybe to put in a good word for Stuart, but Sharon reappeared, phone in hand.

‘Sorry to interrupt,’ she said, barely sorry at all. ‘Mia’s been sick and is asking for her mama. Are you ready to go?’

Penny reached out her hand again, and as she shook Francesco’s said, ‘It was nice to meet you, Chef Cipolla. Again. You know. Properly.’

‘Nice to see you,’ he said, standing as the women gathered their things.

Penny looked at him.

‘Well,’ she said.

‘Well,’ Francesco repeated.

Sharon looked at them both, trying to figure out if they’d made good with each other or not.

‘Well!’ she said, impatient. She wanted to get home to her poorly child. ‘It was very nice to meet you.’ Turning to Penny she said, ‘Sorry to make this a rush job, darling, but parenthood calls. Chop-chop.’

From the back of the taxi home Penny watched the streets of London whizz by, and took a breath.

‘You’ve got this,’ counselled Sharon, soothingly. ‘It’s just a text. And you have to be the one to make the move because he doesn’t have your number, does he?’ Penny nodded, knowing it was the right thing to do, despite saying she wasn’t going to hold out for hope again. ‘All you have to say is that it was nice to see him. You can do that, can’t you?’

Penny thought about it.

‘Yes.’

Life is about love, her mother used to tell her. Maybe that’s why Penny felt so easily swayed to keep dating. She pushed thoughts of surrogates and babies and parenthood-for-one into a box in the back of her mind, a box that was labelled: ‘Open In Case of Singledom’.