I arrived at The Brook, nerves jumping, to find the car park was full. Unwilling to leave Sir Lancelot on the road outside, I parked by the kerb, hoping someone might be about to leave.

I’d vastly overestimated how long it would take to get to Kingsbridge and was half an hour early, but figured sitting in the car was better than sitting at home with Mum and Dad. I’d avoided the café in the end, after waving off Meg and Tilly, and stayed on the beach until the breeze picked up and the sun went in, then wandered home, head swirling with seismic thoughts. Once there, I’d distracted myself by making a list of the commissions I’d accepted, and organising a time frame in which to complete them. Grace might want me to start work right away, but I intended to honour them all – even if it meant painting or drawing right through the night.

Adam had texted at three thirty to say he was on his way back, and when Mum and Dad returned home I’d stayed upstairs, getting ready.

‘You look lovely,’ Mum had gushed when I came down, self-conscious in a stretchy, metal-grey dress with long sleeves and cut-out shoulders. ‘Your boobs are coming back.’

‘It’s all the cake I’ve been putting away.’ I’d discreetly made sure my rash was covered and subdued the itching with a liberal coating of antiseptic cream, disguising the smell with some of Mum’s ‘Evening in Paris’ perfume.

‘You look like your mum,’ Dad had said, nodding to their honeymoon picture on the wall with a whimsical smile on his face. ‘Except for your purple hair.’

‘It’s Plumberry,’ I’d said, checking myself in the mirror to make sure the loose curls I’d fashioned hadn’t dropped out already. I was pleased to see that the eyeliner I’d applied had made my eyes look bigger.

Sensing Mum was about to ask me something I wouldn’t be able to answer, I’d made my escape, certain I’d spotted Dad unbuttoning his shirt before I even made it out of the door.

Sighing, I checked my phone to see if there was an update from Adam, wishing we were at the stage where I felt comfortable calling him, but there was nothing. Maybe he was here already. I scanned the car park again, but couldn’t see his Alfa.

At least the restaurant looked like the sort of place he’d feel at home in. The building had an attractive, honey-stone exterior and a low, thatched roof with fairy lights strung around the edges. It used to be a pub, according to TripAdvisor, and overlooked a brook at the back, hence its name. I’d had a quick peek on the website to see whether Danny’s name appeared, but although there were plenty of flattering references to the quality of the food, the chef wasn’t mentioned by name.

I wondered whether to drive around and come back, but, on a wave of recklessness, decided to text Nina instead.

Might be working with Grace Dewsbury!!

I deleted the exclamation marks. They weren’t really me. Or Nina. Worried she’ll ask C for a reference X

Her reply was instant:

Thought you were going it alone??!!!! Am jealous, would love to work with G. Ask her to contact me, I’ll lie through my teeth, tell her you were an asset (jokes) x

Jokes? And what was with all the punctuation marks? I wondered whether she’d been drinking, but knew she kept a tight rein on her alcohol intake, because of work. Another text pinged in:

Jokes, about lying, I mean. You WERE an asset, even if C didn’t think so, moody cow ha ha. PT just proposed, bit squiffy on champers, we’re going to elope on New Year’s Eve!!!!!!

Definitely drunk. Which meant, when she’d sobered up, she might tell Carlotta, and Carlotta might contact Grace.

Don’t worry, won’t tell C. Everyone deserves a second chance to be an events manager – said no one, ever!!! HAHAHAHA!!!!

It sounded almost as if Nina wasn’t enjoying her job, though she’d never once given that impression when we’d worked together.

Why didn’t C like me? Might as well take advantage of her inebriated state. Never did find out! XX

Probably saw you as a threat – all those hours you put in, you crazy cow!!! You should have legged it ages ago, you’ll fly now, Cazzzie, I’m jealous as fuck (s’cuse my language) HUGS XXX

She might be drunk, but Nina wouldn’t have said it if she didn’t truly believe it.

Thanks and CONGRATULATIONS!!! I texted back, carried away on a soaring sense of hope. Let me know if you’d like me to plan your wedding :) XX

Lifting my head, I saw that the car park had miraculously emptied and swung Sir Lancelot into the nearest bay.

It was almost eight o’clock. Outside, the sky was smudged with gold and lilac, and a tiny moon had risen above a row of conifers, reminding me of Danny’s message in the sand. I rubbed my finger between my eyebrows to erase the image, but another instantly replaced it: his face coming closer to mine, his lips slightly parted, his eyes hazy with lust…

I shouldered the car door open and almost fell out, taking a few deep breaths that did nothing to steady my pulse. Tucking my bag underneath my arm, I adopted what I hoped was the stance of a successful woman, before walking round to the entrance. Hopefully, no one noticed me stumble on the gravel.

Inside was warm and softly lit, all nooks and beams, and gleaming cutlery set on soft white napkins, but I was surprised to see that all the tables were empty, considering it was a Friday night and the place had a good reputation.

‘I’m supposed to be meeting Adam Conway,’ I said to the waistcoated waiter approaching with a smiling welcome, holding my breath in case there’d been a mistake and the restaurant was closed for a private party that hadn’t yet materialised.

‘Mr Conway hasn’t arrived, but if you’d like to follow me.’

He led me to a table set for two in the centre of the restaurant, a fat candle flickering in a jar in between the place settings. ‘This is nice,’ I said, glancing around me. ‘How come it’s so quiet?’

‘Mr Conway booked the whole restaurant for the rest of the evening,’ the waiter said, as he pulled out a high-backed chair for me to sit on. ‘You have the place to yourselves.’

Dumbfounded, I looked at him. ‘But… surely he can’t do that.’

‘If the price is right, he most certainly can,’ he said, inclining his head. I sat, feeling suddenly breathless. Adam had booked the whole restaurant, just for the two of us? I didn’t know whether to be flattered or embarrassed. It seemed so… extravagant. Romantic, though.

Piano music piped through the room, light and delicate. I flapped out my napkin and tried to look like this sort of thing happened to me all the time.

‘What can I get you to drink?’

‘I’ll, er… just some sparkling water, please,’ I said, recalling my behaviour the night before. The waiter bowed his head and, as he hurried away, my phone bleated.

Stuck in traffic, running late. Have a drink on me! X

Bugger. How late? X

Could be an hour. Sorry. Have a drink on me! X

Sighing, I smoothed a tendril of hair behind my ear and picked up the menu, but I couldn’t focus and put it down again. It felt a bit spooky being the only one there. The atmosphere was oddly flat. I glanced at the empty tables and thought they looked a bit sad. I’d have preferred the friendly hum of conversation and the musical scrape of crockery to the tinkly piano music.

The waiter came back with my water. ‘Mr Conway’s running a bit late,’ I said.

‘Ah.’ He made a sympathetic face. ‘Would you like me to fetch you something? Some olives, perhaps, or bread?’

‘Mmm… maybe some bread, please.’ Apart from the ice cream that morning, which I hadn’t finished, I’d stuck to fruit and coffee all day – partly through nerves, and partly because I wanted to save myself for the meal. ‘And some olives. Please.’ I felt awful ordering him about, even if he looked perfectly happy as he scuttled off to the kitchen. Fancy having to work tonight, just for Adam and me.

Thank god Danny wasn’t there. How mortifying, if he saw me waiting for the handsome hero to turn up, like a character in a film.

‘Are you planning to make an olive sandwich?’

I almost spat out my mouthful of sparkling water. ‘Danny!’ Heat rose and pushed to my cheeks. ‘I didn’t think you’d be here tonight.’

‘I usually work on Fridays.’ He had a bread basket in one hand, a bowl of olives in the other, and a smile plastered to his face.

‘What are you smiling at?’

‘You,’ he said. ‘You look… wow.’ He mimed eyes popping out on stalks. ‘Stunning.’

‘Oh. Thanks.’ I stroked my hair and tugged the hem of my dress over my knees, even though it was already over my knees. ‘You don’t look so bad yourself.’

I couldn’t believe I’d said it. I mean, he did look good – he particularly suited chef’s whites, which made everything about him – hair, skin, eyes – more vivid, but I’d sounded almost… flirty. I never flirted; had assumed I was physically incapable of it, like doing more than one push-up, or licking my elbow. ‘Where’s the waiter?’

‘Having a sit down, he’s been run off his feet,’ Danny quipped, placing the bread and the olives in front of me, before bowing with great solemnity. ‘I thought I’d recommend the chef’s special, but I see your paramour hasn’t arrived.’

‘He’s stuck in traffic,’ I said, thinking how lame it sounded. The opposite of romantic. ‘He won’t be long.’ I wondered whether Danny had thought about our kiss last night, or whether women threw themselves at him so often it had barely registered. Or maybe it had been really awful and he couldn’t bring himself to mention it.

‘Why are you looking at my mouth?’ he said, eyes glinting. ‘Fancy a replay of last night?’

‘Oh, shut up.’ I slumped back in my chair. ‘I thought you’d forgotten.’

‘Hardly.’ His eyes caught hold of mine. ‘I’ve wanted to kiss you since the second I saw you at Sylvia’s.’

‘Well done for holding back,’ I said, switching from flirty to outrage. He knew I was waiting for a date, and had chosen now to tell me he’d wanted to kiss me for ages? I wished my heart would stop flapping around in my chest like a startled hen. ‘You need to stop playing games with me.’

‘Me, playing games?’ He pointed to his chest with pantomime astonishment, before pulling out the chair opposite and sitting down. ‘I don’t play games. I think I made it clear from day one that I liked you.’

‘You said you were going to win me over, not that it means anything, coming from you.’

His smile lost some of its power. ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

‘You said it once before, remember, when you invited me to the school leavers’ dance?’ Why the hell had I brought that up?

Danny’s eyebrows jolted in surprise. ‘I tried to explain about that, and you told me you’d got off with someone else.’

Heat settled in my face. ‘I saw you with another girl as I was leaving.’ As soon as I’d said it, I wanted to take it back, but Danny’s gaze turned inward, as if he was trying to remember.

‘I was asking where you were, because I thought you might have already left,’ he said slowly. ‘Jennifer Hartwell stopped me on the way in. I can’t even remember now what she was talking about, but she was pretty drunk.’ That made sense. I’d seen her earlier that night with her gaggle of friends, swigging from a bottle she’d smuggled in in her bag. ‘By the time I got away from her, you must have gone. Probably to snog Lennie Jamieson.’ The warmth in my face intensified. ‘My dad hadn’t been very well,’ he went on, and my stomach clenched, remembering what his mum had told me. ‘Mum was on her way back from visiting my sister at uni and Dad wasn’t very good at being on his own, so I stayed with him until she got home.’

‘I didn’t snog Lennie Jamieson,’ I blurted. ‘I couldn’t stand him, actually.’

‘You know he’s wanted by the police now, for embezzlement?’ The corners of Danny’s mouth twitched upwards. ‘He swindled a lot of money from the company where he worked, and fled to Brazil a couple of years ago. I bumped into an old friend, who’s in the police force, and he told me all about it.’

‘Oh god.’ I laughed softly, wondering whether Meg and Tilly knew. Against her better judgement, Tilly had quite fancied Lennie. ‘Sounds like I dodged a bullet.’

‘He definitely took a wrong turn.’

A small silence fell, broken by a soft-rock ballad that had replaced the bland piano music and which made me think of Adam.

‘I’m moving back to London soon.’

‘With Mr Conway?’ Danny popped an olive into his mouth. ‘You mean, he’s succeeded where I failed in winning you over?’

‘He’s doing a pretty good job.’ I fiddled with the cutlery, swapping the knife and fork around. ‘He’s very romantic.’

‘Ah, well, if romance is what you want…’

‘Doesn’t everyone?’

He propped his elbows on the table. ‘I don’t know, I’m not everyone.’

‘You don’t seem that bothered for someone who was desperate to win me over not long ago.’ I did scratchy quote marks with my fingers.

‘If I’m really not what you want, well…’ He propped his stubbly chin on his hand and gave me a penetrating look. ‘I want you to be happy,’ he said, seriously. ‘I happen to think you deserve it. I want you to do what you feel is right for you.’ There was something about the way he said it… he sounded so genuine. As if he really did care, which was odd when I’d hardly made the best impression since crashing back into his life.

I snatched a wedge of seeded bread from the basket and took a bite, but it turned to dust in my mouth. He was watching me too closely for comfort, and the sound of my phone ringing came as a welcome relief.

‘Cassie, I’m so sorry, but I’m not going to make it.’

‘What?’

‘The traffic’s terrible, I’ve been on the same stretch of road for nearly an hour.’

‘But I’m at the restaurant. Alone.’ I gave Danny a pointed look, but he was gnawing a crust and pretending not to listen. ‘I can wait.’

‘No, don’t,’ he said, in his quietly authoritative way. ‘I wanted it to be special, but I probably won’t make it until ten, and I’ll be tired from travelling. You deserve better than me yawning over the Bollinger.’ I heard the smile in his voice and marvelled that he didn’t seem fed up to have been in his car for most of the day, with no reward at the end of it. Maybe he just really loved his Alfa. Or, maybe in his world, this sort of thing happened a lot.

‘I can’t believe you booked the whole restaurant.’ I sensed the evening and all its possibilities sliding out of my grasp, and wanted to hold on to them for a few moments longer.

‘Stay and have something to eat, it’s all paid for,’ he said. ‘Why don’t you come down to London tomorrow, join me at the party I mentioned? I’d love you to meet my family, and Grace will be there. I can introduce you.’

‘Oh.’ Put on the spot, my mind began spinning in circles. We’d get to spend time together, I’d meet his parents (he’d already met mine) and I’d have the chance to impress Grace Dewsbury. And it wasn’t as if I had any plans for tomorrow, other than a karaoke routine at the Smugglers Inn with Meg and Tilly.

‘Sure,’ I said, though it was more of a squeak. ‘I’d love to.’

‘Great!’ Adam sounded gratifyingly pleased. ‘I’ll text you my address.’

‘Great,’ I echoed, and sat for a second when he’d hung up, staring at my phone.

‘He’s not coming,’ said Danny. It wasn’t a question.

‘No.’ I looked at him, wondering whether he’d heard Adam’s side of the conversation. ‘He’s still stuck in traffic.’

‘That’s a shame.’ Danny pushed his chair back and stood up. ‘I had a lovely menu prepared. In fact, I prepared something of everything for you to try.’

‘To try and win me over?’ It was a poor attempt at a teasing tone that fell flat.

‘Maybe. Before,’ he said. ‘When I thought I was in with a chance.’ His smile was back, but not as convincing. ‘Seems a shame to let it go to waste.’

‘I don’t really want to eat on my own.’ My wrist tingled, and once again I fought the urge to scratch. ‘I’m really sorry we’ve wasted your time, but I think I’ll just go home.’

Danny folded his arms and gave me a disarming stare. ‘Stay there,’ he said at last. ‘I’ve got an idea, if you can bear with me for half an hour.’

‘What are you going to do?’

‘Wait and see,’ he said, and disappeared into the kitchen.