‘No. That is not my second request.’ He shifted to the edge of his chair, set his empty bottle beside her mug, and stood up. His expression had grown more solemn than ever. It had to be something connected to poor Carmela, Esther guessed, inwardly bracing herself.

‘Of course, your answer can be no,’ he continued gravely. ‘It is an impudence.’

‘An impudence?’ Esther smiled doubtfully, her bafflement growing.

‘Yes. Because my second question, Esther…’ he was speaking with exaggerated formality now ‘…is whether you might consider allowing me to kiss you before I leave?’

‘Kiss me?’ Esther clung to the piano stool, a reaction partly to the sensation of her body temperature shooting up by several degrees. Her cheeks especially, warm from the tea, were literally pulsing with heat.

‘It’s a bold and shocking request, I know.’

‘Truly bold. Truly shocking.’ Esther matched his faux-serious tone, while her heart continued to perform acrobatics.

‘And, as I say, one issued with no pressure whatsoever. A straight yes or no is fine.’

Was he in fact mocking her? Esther straightened herself on the stool, staring him out, trying not to think how attractive he looked in his cool-as-you-please pose by the armchair, in no hurry to move, commanding the room. Commanding her. He was an actor, she reminded herself, capable of pinging into any mode he wanted. She should keep herself on red alert; defences sky-high. He had praised her wisdom, and she only wished she deserved it. A forty-eight-year-old divorcee, it was high time, surely, to be equipped to take on the world. Yet, she was also, in that moment, extremely taken with the idea of allowing herself to try the treat of kissing, and being kissed by, Marcus. Her lips were actually tingling. It was almost alarming. ‘It’s only fair to warn you, I’m rusty,’ she said, dimly wishing it hadn’t been quite so long since her post-breakfast use of her toothbrush.

‘Is that so?’ He had started to pick his way across the room, stepping over her handbag, and the small coffee table that was always in the way instead of being serviceable. ‘I find that hard to believe, Esther, if you don’t mind my saying so. Isn’t it a bit like riding a bicycle? Once mastered, never forgotten. Either way, I’m prepared to give it a whirl, if you are.’

‘And I am oily,’ Esther blurted. ‘Just so you know. From an aromatherapy massage, today at the spa, with my daughter… so my hair is a bit…’ She stood up. He had arrived in front of her. A faint tremor had started in the backs of her knees. Two years was a long time. Except it was more than two years, because proper kissing had been an early casualty of her marriage. Lucas hadn’t thought it mattered. She had.