As they crossed the floor, Jane admired the sophisticated ambience of the 1920s Art Deco design of the room, with its bold geometric shapes and bright colours.

The maître d’ led them to a table for two in the corner of the room, draped with a pristine white linen tablecloth.

He pulled out Jane’s chair, picked up her napkin, wafted it open and gently placed it on her lap. He handed them each a menu and asked Nick if he would like to see the wine list or have an aperitif first. They decided just to have wine and the maître d’ said the sommelier would be with them shortly.

‘Are you hungry?’ Nick asked.

‘Absolutely starving. All I’ve had all day is a bowl of cereal and a bacon sandwich,’ Jane said, opening the menu and looking at the starters. She gasped with surprise, realising a three-course meal in the station canteen would cost less. She fancied a steak but couldn’t believe the price of that either.

The sommelier handed Nick the wine list.

‘Would you like some champagne?’ Nick asked.

Jane couldn’t begin to imagine what a bottle would cost. ‘I’d love a glass, thank you,’ she replied.

‘We’ll have a bottle of Dom Perignon, please,’ Nick told the sommelier. ‘Please, Jane, have whatever you want,’ he said. ‘I want you to enjoy yourself.’

‘What are you having?’ she asked, thinking she would have the same or else something of a similar price.

‘Do you like steak?’

‘It’s what I was thinking of having,’ she admitted.

‘How about the chateaubriand for two, roasted chateau potatoes and grilled asparagus?’

‘That sounds good to me.’

‘I’ll ask for a red wine sauce on the side. Do you want a starter?’

‘I don’t think I’d be able to eat my main course if I had one,’ Jane laughed.

Nick placed their order with a waiter. The sommelier, who was pouring the champagne, recommended Cabernet Sauvignon with the steak.

‘Do you have family in London?’ Nick asked.

Jane nodded. ‘My parents are in Maida Vale. My sister Pam lives in Shepherd’s Bush with her husband and two young sons.’

‘Do you get to see your family much?’

‘Not really. My mum does a Sunday lunch for us all every so often, and I keep in touch by phone. What about you . . . any brothers or sisters?’ she asked.

‘I’m an only child. My mother died of cancer last year, so there’s just me and my dad now.’

‘I’m sorry, it must have been a terrible time for you both.’