'I'm sorry, no,' I told him hastily. 'Happily married.'

'It's not a date,' exclaimed Arnold quickly, just a lift to a concert. Here, take the ticket anyway. I've no one else to give it to; if you don't want to go, just bin it.'

I shut the door again.

'Ibb's wrong,' said Obb. 'He really fancies you, but he's blown it by being too desperate – it would be hard for you to respect someone who would almost start begging.'

'Not bad,' I replied. 'Let's see how it turns out.'

I opened the door again and stared into Arnold's earnest eyes.

'You miss her, don't you?'

'Miss who?' asked Arnold, seemingly nonchalant.

'Denial of love!' yelled Ibb and Obb from behind me. 'He doesn't really fancy you at all – he's in love with Mary and wants a date on the rebound!'

Arnold looked suspicious.

'What's going on?'

'Subtext classes,' I explained. 'Sorry for being rude. Do you want to come in for a coffee?'

'Well, I should be going really—'

'Playing hard to get!' hooted Ibb, and Obb added quickly: 'The balance of power has tipped in his favour because you've been rude to him with all that door nonsense, and now you're going to have to insist that he comes in for coffee, even if that means being nicer to him than you originally intended!'

'Are they always like this?' enquired Arnold, stepping inside.

'They learn fast,' I observed. 'That's Ibb and that's Obb. Ibb and Obb, this is Arnold.'

'Hello!' said Arnold, thinking for a moment. 'Do you Generics want to go and see Willow Lodge and the Limes?'

They looked at one another for a moment, realised they were sitting just that little bit too close, and moved apart.

'Do you?' said Ibb.

'Well, only if you want to—'

'I'm easy – it's your decision.'

'Well, y-es, I'd really like to.'

'Then let's go – unless you've made other plans—?'

'No, no, I haven't.'

They got up, took the tickets from Arnold and were out the door in a flash.

I laughed and went through to the galley.

'Who's the elderly woman?' asked Arnold.

'It's my gran,' I replied, switching on the kettle and getting out the coffee.

'Is she … you know?'

'Goodness me no!' I exclaimed. 'She's only asleep. She's one hundred and eight.'

'Really? Why is she dressed in this dreadful blue gingham?'

'Has been for as long as I can remember. She came here to make sure I didn't forget my husband. Sorry. That makes me sound as though I'm labouring the point, doesn't it?'