Over a bottle of very nice wine, Camilla gave Tom the potted version of her father’s explanation, as well as filling him in about when Laurence had left and how they’d rarely heard from him over the years. Tom listened carefully, his brown eyes fixed on hers as Camilla relayed the details as calmly and clearly as she could. Twice, she became a bit emotional, and had to pause, but Tom waited quietly and she found his presence soothing and reassuring. It was strange, to feel so comfortable with a man, and when she hardly knew him, but she also didn’t feel under any pressure to impress him. Camilla had never felt like that with a man before, except for Rick and Chris, and one was her brother-in-law, the other her best friend’s partner.

“And that’s my life story.”

Tom nodded. “Quite a story too.”

“What do you think?”

He sighed. “I think that you lost your father when you were very young and that’s got to be hard for any child. The fact that he left, rather than passed away, must have been difficult because he was still out there somewhere. You, Dawn and your mum have had it rough but you’ve done amazingly.”

“Amazingly?”

“You have a great job, you’re independent, you clearly love your family and now… you have some difficult decisions to make.”

“What would you do?”

“I have no idea, Camilla. I’ve been very lucky in that my parents are still together. They get on well, they’re both retired and still live in Brighton where I grew up. They were strict when I was younger but not ridiculously so and they always made me feel secure. They were there when I needed them. I hope I never took that for granted but I don’t think I did because I had friends whose parents divorced and I saw how difficult it could be for them, although having said that, for some it was a blessing.”

“How so?”

“Well if two people are together and they’re making each other unhappy, then surely it’s better to separate? Not all marriages work out.” He winced and reached for his glass.

“Do you have first hand experience of that or are you talking about a friend?”

He shook his head. “We’re still talking about you.”

She glanced at his left hand but he wasn’t wearing a ring.

“Are you hungry?”

“Starving.” She placed a hand over her belly and it grumbled. “I think it’s all the emotion.”

“That casserole will be ready soon and it goes very well with fluffy mashed potato. How’d you fancy that?”

“It sounds so good.”

“And I popped into The Cosy Cottage Café at lunch time and picked up some mince pies.”

“Now you’re torturing me.”

“Would you like to come to mine for dinner?”

Camilla finished her wine. “That would be very nice indeed. Oh…”

“Are you thinking about HP?”

She nodded.

“He’ll be on his best behaviour, I promise. I’ll warn him when we get there that if there’s any nonsense, he’ll be sent straight to his room.”

“He has his own room?”

“Not really, the daft dog has the run of the downstairs but I can close the kitchen door if he’s bothering you. He has a bed in there and one in the lounge and one in the office.”

“Doesn’t he go upstairs then?”

“No. I don’t let him because he’d struggled to come down without help and I worry that he’d hurt himself in the day when I’m at work. With his huge shoulders, he’s a bit top heavy, and he’d come down too quickly.”

“Of course.”

Tom stood up. “You coming then?”

“I am.”

Camilla and Tom made their way to his cottage. It was one of the largest in the village and had been renovated recently by the previous owner’s son before it was put up for sale. Tom had paid a hefty price for it, Camilla knew because news travelled fast in the village, but it was a fantastic property and she hoped he’d be happy in Heatherlea.

As they walked, he asked about life in the village and about the locals he’d met already and Camilla was grateful to have her attention diverted from her own worries. At one point, Tom took her arm to guide her over a patch of black ice that she hadn’t even noticed, and she found herself comforted by his consideration. Not only was he incredibly handsome but he was kind, considerate and funny. And he was, as he had told her, a very good listener.

They soon reached his cottage and as they walked up the path to the front door, she heard a loud bark from inside.

“The sleeping prince awakens.” Tom grinned as he unlocked the door. “Just let me go in and speak to him for a moment so I can calm him down.”

Camilla nodded and stood on the step, gazing at the small front garden. In the warm glow from the streetlight, she could see that it had been cut back for the winter months and the flowerbeds were dark and bare. Ivy climbed the front of the cottage, its dark green foliage neatly trimmed, and the rose that wound its way around the front door was bereft of flowers. Camilla knew that in the summer months, the plants would flourish with gorgeous scents and colours, and she wondered if she’d come here to see Tom then. But that was a foolish thought. Unless they stayed friends, of course. Although by then, Tom might well be involved with someone and who knew what situation Camilla would be in? If Laurence proved to be a rogue, she might well have packed her bags and set off around the world herself.

The door opened and Tom peered out. “You can come in now. HP promises he’ll behave. He’ll just want to sniff you a bit.”

“Okay.”

Camilla entered the dark hallway and the mouth-watering aroma of chicken casserole met her nostrils. It was a comforting, homely smell and one that made her empty stomach rumble.

“HP, say hello to Camilla.”

The dog waggled his bottom as he approached Camilla and she tensed.

“Hello HP. How are you?”

“It’s okay, he won’t jump up.”

Camilla nodded and leaned over to stroke the dog but he moved sideways and sniffed her hand then her wrist before giving her hand a gentle lick.

“There… see. He knows you now. Shall I take your coat?”

Camilla shrugged out of her jacket and Tom hung it under the stairs.

“Come on through to the kitchen.”

“Shall I take my boots off?”

“No, don’t worry the floors are all wood or tiled so you’ll have cold feet if you do.”

Camilla followed him and HP trotted at her side like an escort, or as if he was keeping an eye on her, she wasn’t sure which. Everything looked different than it had on Halloween, but that could be because then it had been full of people and decorated with pumpkins, skeletons and cobwebs, whereas now, it was just the two of them and the big British bulldog.

The spotlights were on in the kitchen and Camilla was struck by how warm and cosy it was with the Aga set against the chimney wall and the limed oak units.

“Can I get you a drink?”

“Yes please.”

“More wine?”

“Lovely.”

“Take a seat.”

He gestured at the table near the French doors that overlooked the garden. Camilla sat down, conscious of the fact that her reflection in the glass doors was pale and dark eyed. She hoped she didn’t look that bad but then she had been through an emotional afternoon.

Tom handed her a glass of wine and HP sniffed her boots then plonked himself on her feet.

“You have the official HP seal of approval there.”

“What his bum on my toes?”

Tom nodded. “He trusts you enough to sit on you.”

“Or he doesn’t trust me so he’s keeping me pinned in one place.”

Tom laughed.

“I’ll peel some potatoes then we can go and sit in the lounge while they cook.”

“I’ll do them if you want?”

“Absolutely not. You’re my guest. In fact, why don’t you go into the lounge and sit on the sofa and I’ll come on through in a bit?”

“No, it’s okay. I’ll sit here and wait. Your kitchen is lovely.”

“You’re the guest.”

Tom went to the dresser at the side of the table and music filled the kitchen. Camilla realised that what she had thought was a small radio was actually an iPhone dock. As Michael Bublé’s Christmas album played, Tom pottered about the kitchen and HP warmed her feet, and she felt herself begin to relax.

And she was glad that she’d agreed to meet Tom that afternoon, because if she’d gone home alone after meeting her father, she’d have been lost in introspection and loneliness. Instead, she had someone to talk to and he was even making her dinner.

They didn’t make it to the lounge because once the water in the saucepan of potatoes was bubbling, Tom sat at the table and they started talking.

“Camilla… I know you’ve had a difficult day with the arrival of your father in the village, but apart from that, what can you tell me about you?” His hands were resting on the table next to his wine glass and Camilla looked at his short clean nails and long slim fingers.

“What do you want to know?”

“Well… more about you. Likes and dislikes, that kind of stuff.”

“Kind of like speed dating?”

“Sorry?” He tilted his head.

“Well, we only have until the potatoes are cooked, so whatever I tell you won’t be particularly detailed. When you go speed dating, you have a limited amount of time to tell someone about you.”

“I’ve never done any of that stuff.”

“Speed dating?”

“And the rest. I have friends who’ve done it but I just couldn’t bring myself to try it.”

“What, no Tinder or Match or any of those?”

“Never.”

She nodded. “I can understand that. I’ve only tried speed dating once, but it was all so fast that I kept giggling and that didn’t go down well, and I tried Tinder.”

“Did you actually date anyone you met because of it?”

Camilla paused, not sure how much she should tell him because if this was kind of like a date, then the wrong thing to do would be to tell him about her exes. But then, if it wasn’t a date and they were just friends, it would be fine. But which was it? After all, Tom was from the village and Camilla had a rule about that. Yet, with him it seemed like a rule she could break. He’d been so kind to her today and she was so comfortable with him that she wanted to get to know him better.

“Camilla?”

“Yes?”

“You drifted off.”

“Sorry… I was just wondering if I should tell you about past dates, really.”

“Why not?”

“Well, because…”

“Because?”

“Nothing.” She worried her bottom lip.

“No, you have to tell me now.”

She sighed. “Tom, I really like you. But I’m not used to this.” She waved at the air between them. “At being friends with guys that I… I’m attracted to. Usually, not that I date a lot, you understand, but I do have friends who are guys and guys who are, well, dates, I guess, but the lines don’t get blurred. No, that’s not right because the guys I date… well sometimes they’re friends. I’m making a right mess of trying to explain myself here aren’t I?”

“I think I understand your point. Are you talking about friends with benefits?” He raised his eyebrows.

“That sounds terrible, doesn’t it?”

He held up his hands. “Hey, I’m not judging anyone here. If you have male friends you can call on to take you out and make you feel special then good for you. Although, I have to admit that I’m a teensy bit jealous of them.”

She smiled. “You’re jealous?”

He nodded and spots of colour appeared on his cheeks. “I am. I really like you, Camilla. You’re smart, funny, pretty and you smell good.”

“I am? And I do?”

“I fancied you the moment I saw you walking through the village.”

“You did? I had no idea.”

“I’m also kind of… shy.” He lowered his gaze to his wine and swirled it around in the glass. “I don’t find talking to attractive women easy at all, yet with you, I’m fairly relaxed. And, of course, the wine is helping to loosen my tongue.”

“Mine too, I think.”

“I’m also excited. If that makes sense. By being around you. I want to make you smile and to impress you but I also feel that I don’t have to.” He rubbed his eyes. “Look at me spouting nonsense now. I bet I don’t make sense either.”

He smiled.

“It’s not nonsense and I know exactly what you mean. I feel at ease around you. I’ve told you more today than I’ve ever told any of my dates.” She used her fingers to air quote dates. “But because I like you, I’d prefer not to analyse my past… encounters, except to say that there’s never been anyone serious.”

“What? Never?”

“Nope. I never met anyone I wanted to settle down with.” She held back the fact that she’d never let herself get involved in case he thought that was strange. She didn’t want to ruin the moment with brutal honesty or to seem totally screwed up. “And I’m thirty-five, so that’s quite a long time to be single.”

He shook his head. “No point rushing into anything if it’s not right.”

“And what about you? I’m not asking for an analysis.” She ran her finger around the bottom of her wine glass. “I just meant, has there been anyone significant?”

He took a sip of his wine and swallowed then placed his glass back on the table. “There was someone, yes. She was a vet too, from Peckham originally, and we met at university then got jobs in Brighton. We’ve been separated for two years.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

“It’s okay. It happens. We were young when we met and we grew apart. It hurt but that’s life.”

Camilla finished her wine then returned her glass to the table.

“And are you all right about it all?”

“I’m fine.”

“Is that why you moved?”

He met her eyes and she saw sadness in his, even though he’d claimed that he was fine.

“Yes. I needed a fresh start. It was too difficult bumping into her around our old haunts in Brighton and supermarket trips just became a nightmare.”

“She couldn’t have shopped elsewhere?”

“She should have, really. It was my supermarket first.” He laughed. “It wasn’t an easy time but it’s all over now.”

“Life and relationships can be difficult.”

“Sad but true. That’s life though, eh?”

He got up and went to check the bubbling pan.

Camilla cringed inwardly. Had she just said completely the wrong thing? Had she pried too much? Tom might well have more secrets in his past and that was fine; it was his prerogative to tell her or not, as he wished. The last thing she wanted to do was to upset him and ruin what had been a lovely evening so far. She’d do her best to make him smile again, because he had the loveliest smile she’d seen in what felt like a lifetime.