Inside one of the confined cubicles I took off my spy gear. I shoved my hat, gloves and dark glasses into a small rucksack I carried with me. I folded my mackintosh and pushed it in on top. Underneath the winter layers I was dressed and ready for such an occasion.

My best trousers, brown corduroys, and a smart cream and beige checked shirt, leant me a dapper appearance. The brown sweater, casually slung round my shoulders, added a relaxed homely touch. I combed my ever-so-slightly thinning hair and smoothed it down. With a last glance in the rusting mirror over the sink, I went out into the pub.

I settled at a table next to the back door and opened a book I’d brought with me. I looked engrossed and easy on my manufactured stage; and then she spotted me. She came across and I feigned delight in the apparent coincidence.

After that it was plain sailing. The noise and crowds in the bar played into my hands. It wasn’t difficult to prise her away from the party. I led her to a quiet romantic wine bar around the corner and she followed willingly.

I claimed this as our first date. We chatted with ease, like an old familiar married couple. It felt exquisite to be part of something real at last. Careful not to appear nosey, rather mildly interested, I managed to join up a few more pieces of her jigsaw. She had been in Australia for several years after working in an antique art gallery in London where her boss hanged himself. The wasted lengths some people will go to in the face of unrequited love.

I decided not to ask her out again straight away. If we were to be together forever I felt there was no rush. Anyway, we were now in a proper relationship and had shared the perfect date.

42

Rebecca

I no longer dressed in party glitz. I had ditched short skirts and tight tops in favour of plainer clothes.

Tonight I chose a black skirt which reached the knee and a simple white collarless blouse. Round my neck hung the small gold heart which Mitch had given me on our first anniversary together. It was engraved on the back with the words forever mine.

I fingered the chain and allowed myself a rare memory of my ex-boyfriend. I wondered if he would recognise me. I was thinner, sharper round the edges; but would he ever come back to find out?

There was no let-up from the November rain. Car and bus drivers drove through dirty puddles of water and sprayed rancid muck across the pavements. I clung to the shop windows, every so often touching the walls to ground myself. It was a struggle to pull my mind down from the heightened awareness and panic.