She looked away then, and I wished I’d said something else.

As she reached up to slot the tulip book into place, her blouse lifted again. She would have down on her skin there, on her belly and perhaps her side. Fine down, almost invisible, but I would know it was there.

‘Do you have your own garden?’

I shifted in my seat. ‘I’m getting one.’

‘And will it be all roses?’

‘Oh no. I have plans. Tall wild flowers growing in between the roses. Maybe an archway. Box hedges lining gravel pathways. Nothing straight, but everything in balance. The thing with gardens is you have to have vistas. Something you can look through.’

She laughed. ‘You sound like you’re going to open it to the public.’

‘Maybe I will.’

We looked at each other.

‘Better get on.’ She grabbed the trolley handle with both hands.

‘Just a minute,’ I said.

Her fingers loosened their grip, but she remained stooped over the trolley.

‘I want to ask you something.’

She looked at me, both eyebrows raised and her lips slightly open. The fan heater blew a strand of hair across her cheek and she jutted her jaw forward and blew upwards.

‘I have to ask you something.’

‘Yes?’

As she waited for me to speak, she stroked the spines of the books on her trolley, letting her fingers trail loosely over the titles.

I cleared my throat.

‘Do you like climbers or trailers best?’

For a minute she didn’t respond. She continued to run her fingertips over the books as she watched me. Then she said, ‘Why?’

‘Because I’ll need to know. I’ll need to know which one to buy for you.’

‘That Kathryn Welch is one of them.’

I was late getting to the power station canteen. I missed my usual seat by the window, so I had to sit at the end of a long table right next to the tea urn. The hot metal was at my back and men kept brushing my shoulders as they queued up with their mugs. Steam spurted around me as I stirred my tea.

At first I thought it was my imagination; I thought that I was hearing Kathryn’s name only in my head, just as I was somehow expecting her to telephone or leave a message, even though she didn’t know where I worked.

‘Tweed knickers, but I’d like to get them off her.’

A big laugh broke over my head. I stirred my tea faster. ‘She’s a lovely one, eh, Howard?’

I turned round in my seat. Derrick Pearce shot a jet of steam into his mug. He held it high in the air and examined it before taking a slurp. Then he looked over at me. ‘You got that tea stirred? You’ll wear the bloody spoon out.’

I tapped the spoon three times on the rim of my mug before letting it rest on the table.

‘She told me you’re keen.’ Derrick’s voice was softer. He smiled.

I scraped my chair back and stood up. Derrick’s face was wide and red, and he breathed out a stream of cigarette-and-tea-smelling breath. I noticed he had one collar inside and one outside his jumper.