As she drove along the icy roads, Jazz realised she felt flustered and out of control. She thrived on order and routine – her father said it was because she was a true Virgo – and any kind of emotional chaos produced the butterflies fluttering in her tummy now.

She parked the car on the grass verge in front of the pub.

‘Get a grip, woman! It’s no biggie – only a meal in a pub,’ she said out loud, and, taking a deep breath, she walked across the narrow lane to the front door.

Jonathan was sitting nursing a pint of beer by the fire. He smiled when he saw her, stood up and kissed her on both cheeks.

‘How are you, Jazz? You look great,’ he commented, his eyes sweeping over her long, jean-clad legs. ‘Can I get you something to drink?’

‘A glass of wine would be perfect.’

‘Sure. You sit down and get warm by this fantastic fire. I’ll bring the menus over, although the specials on the board look excellent.’

She watched him as he strode to the bar, towering over the other men already there. He looked different tonight somehow; more mature. Perhaps the university setting had coloured her memories of him, made her see him as a student still, when in fact he was only seven years younger than she.

‘There we go.’ Jonathan put the glass of wine in front of her, along with a menu, and sat down on the stool next to her, his long legs stretched out in front of him. ‘Have a fast look. The kitchen closes at eight thirty and it’s ten past now.’

Jazz chuckled. ‘In London, most people wouldn’t have arrived at the restaurant, let alone have it shut up shop.’ She sipped her wine and looked up at the blackboard. ‘It’s an easy decision anyway. Cod and chips and mushy peas for me.’

‘That makes two of us.’ He smiled. ‘When in Rome, although saying that, the cod caught from here has probably ended up in Scotland being vacuum packed and we’re eating Norway’s finest.’

‘Probably, but it’s the thought that counts.’

‘Absolutely. And it’s good to see a woman who obviously doesn’t care about the calories . . . not that you need to, of course. I mean, you have a lovely figure, but . . .’ The colour was rising to his cheeks. ‘What I mean is, I resent taking a woman out for dinner when she spends all evening chasing a small piece of lettuce round her plate.’

‘Well, it’s not a problem you’ll have tonight. I eat like the proverbial horse and I’m absolutely famished, so why don’t you go and order before it’s too late?’

Over the next fifteen minutes, Jazz relaxed. Jonathan had an ironic sense of humour that she shared and understood. The fish and chips were delicious and Jazz risked another small glass of wine.

‘Right, I’m ready to answer those questions you have for me. By the way, sorry if I got on my high horse the other day.’