He walked over to the front door of the shop and, his heart in his mouth, knocked three times. The sound seemed deafening to him in the deserted street and he winced, imagining her reaction. He knew he should have come tomorrow but it would be like every other time; there’d be Daisy trotting about and a bunch of other customers and he’d be forced to sit at a table if he wanted to see her at all, drinking soup or eating a pie he didn’t want and looking like a lovelorn idiot.

It was a full thirty seconds before there was a light from the shop, and then he realized she was coming towards the door holding a lamp. He stared at her through the glass panel and could just make out the dark red of her hair and the pale oval of her face. When she unbolted the door and opened it, she stood looking at him for an endless moment, and in spite of himself he forgot every word of the speech he’d rehearsed on the way to see her. When she stood aside and said quietly, ‘Come in,’ he couldn’t have been more astounded than if she had answered the door stark naked. He’d expected to have to argue his way in.

Still without speaking he followed her through the shop and into the bakery, and then up a steep flight of stairs at the end of the room and into the flat’s sitting room. It was small and cosy, a coal fire burning in the hearth and a small tabby cat asleep on a rug in front of it. Rose gestured towards the animal. ‘Betsy wanted a pet for Christmas.’

‘She did?’ He stood awkwardly just inside the room, the door still open behind him.

‘She’s called her Queenie. A grand name for such a little cat but of course she’ll grow. She’s just a kitten now.’

He nodded and then took the bull by the horns. ‘I know I shouldn’t have paid a visit at this time of night but I wanted to see you.’

‘That’s what you said on New Year’s Eve two years ago when you came to my house. Tell me, Mr Bembridge, do you always do the things you know you shouldn’t?’

He stared at her. Something had changed since the last time he had seen her. She was more . . . He couldn’t find a word to describe how she was and gave up. Clearing his throat, he said gruffly, ‘Where you are concerned I suppose I do.’

She smiled. ‘Should I be flattered?’

She had mellowed towards him, that was what the change was. ‘That’s for you to decide,’ he said, his eyes never leaving her face. Whatever this was, he was all for it.