‘Sorry,’ he said quickly.

He moved his hands so they were no longer on hers, and she was surprised to feel disappointed. He righted the chair, and she took a seat.

‘This is odd,’ he said as he sat. ‘Knowing someone you’ve never met in person.’

‘The perils of Internet dating,’ Harri replied.

She knew he worked at a university, that they had a common love of poetry, movie soundtracks and country walks.

He nodded and smiled. ‘Have you met many people through the site?’

‘You’re my first,’ Harri replied. ‘You?’

‘The same.’

She was glad. She already couldn’t bear to think of him with someone else.

A waiter approached. ‘What can I get you?’

‘Black coffee,’ Harri said.

‘Me too,’ Ben added, and the waiter withdrew.

Harri smiled, and Ben responded in kind, and for a moment they sat at the table like a couple of blissed-out fools.

‘When you come to me, unbidden, beckoning me to long-ago rooms, where memories lie,’ Ben said, and Harri’s eyes widened. ‘Maya Angelou,’ he added.

‘I know. That’s one of my favourite poems,’ she replied.

‘Mine too. It’s beautiful. So evocative.’

It might have felt strange to hear poetry from someone she’d just met, but somehow it was perfectly natural with Ben.

‘Can we pretend we’ve known each other for ever? That we trust one another? That there’s nothing we could say or do that would offend? No truth that would deter? Can we be ourselves even if we act a part with others?’

Harri was bemused, but intrigued. She wasn’t sure she was ever completely herself with anyone.

‘I want to be honest with you,’ Ben went on, ‘but I know that’s not how these things work, is it?’

‘It takes time,’ Harri replied. ‘We’re vulnerable creatures. We carry our hurt with us, and each wound forms new scar tissue that makes it harder to see the person beneath. It takes time to open up to someone new.’

‘And we are new to each other, aren’t we?’

Harri felt as though the world had gone dim and he was the only person in it.

‘Yes,’ she agreed. ‘We are new to each other, but at the same time I feel like I’ve known you for ever.’

It was a brave thing to say, but no more so than his quoting Maya Angelou, or his suggestion they be completely honest with each other.

‘I feel it too,’ he admitted, and Harri breathed a little easier. ‘I feel as though I’ve been waiting for you.’

Her stomach churned. This was getting intense.

‘Two black coffees,’ the waiter said, breaking the spell and bringing the real world rushing back as he deposited two steaming mugs on the table.

‘Thanks,’ Ben said.

‘Thank you,’ Harri added as the waiter left them.

They spent the afternoon in that cafe, talking, letting their drinks go cold. Ben was gentle, kind, calm, charming and funny, everything she could have hoped for in a man, but more than that, she tried her very best to live by his suggestion and felt she could be herself around him, because he was so real and honest. For the first time in years, she’d met someone who made her feel safe. Not physically, because years patrolling the streets of London meant she knew how to handle herself. He made her feel secure in being who she really was, that it was OK for her to be honest. She could share her thoughts and feelings, her opinions, insecurities and longings and he wouldn’t judge her or turn them against her.