His movements were as gentle as his sense of humour, and his voice was soft. He seemed genuinely interested in everything she had to say.

They shared similar taste in films, books and food, and talked a great deal about their common love of poetry. Coffee turned into lunch and lunch into dinner. They spent the whole day together relishing each other’s company, laughing and grinning, neither willing to break their new-found bond.

The cafe could have been the grand dining room at the Savoy for all the joy and excitement Harri felt. Every mouthful of the simple sandwiches they’d ordered tasted glorious, simply because she was with him. And she could see he felt the same way. His eyes shone with happiness and desire, and even though they’d only met that morning, she’d started to dare to dream she’d finally found someone she could spend her life with. They talked and listened to each other, but looking back, Harri could hardly recall exactly what they’d said.

Finally, a different waiter came over and told them the cafe was closing, and Harri glanced around and realized the place was deserted. She checked her phone and saw it was a few minutes before eleven.

‘Wow. I’m sorry,’ Ben said. ‘I lost track of time.’

‘Me too,’ Harri replied, and they both chuckled.

Ben settled the bill in spite of Harri protesting they should split it, and they walked outside. The summer nights were waning into autumn and there was a slight chill.

Harri wished Ben would put his arms around her, that he’d invite her back to his place, but he didn’t.

‘I had a wonderful time,’ she said.

‘Me too.’

The town centre was empty, and when the waiter shut the cafe door, it seemed as though they were the only people in the world.

‘Would you like to do this again?’ Ben asked. ‘Not this, but something else,’ he added awkwardly. ‘Maybe a walk. I know a great place out near Maer.’

‘That sounds nice,’ Harri replied casually, trying not to betray her elation.

Ask me home, she thought. Just ask me home.

‘I’ll call you to arrange a time,’ Ben said.

There was an awkward moment of silence.

‘Would you like me to walk you to your car?’ he said at last.

‘If it’s not out of your way.’

‘Of course not.’

So they walked side by side through the deserted town, past the silent shops and still cafes, and the stillness and silence created a weight of expectation that stifled language. They didn’t say a word until they reached the car park, and under the ugly glare of the yellow strip lights, they loitered by her car.

Ask me home, Harri shouted inwardly.

‘Do you need a lift?’ she tried.

He shook his head. ‘I walk from here.’

‘Well . . .’

‘Well, goodnight,’ he said, stepping forward to give her an awkward kiss on the cheek before hurrying away.

Harri watched him go, disappointed their date had ended, but thrilled she’d met him, and she got in her car and drove home with the radio on loud, excited, dreaming of a life together.