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‘Shit, Tom, I totally forgot what day it was. Honestly, you should get going. I quite fancy walking back to the cottage from here once I’m done.’

‘You really need to stop calling that place a cottage, Mal. And only if you’re not just saying that to ease my guilt for leaving you here?’

No one else called me Mal. I liked it.

‘Honestly, no guilt needed. Yeah, I think it’ll do me some good after looking at all this stuff. Since I’ve been back, the only places I’ve visited are Big Tesco, here, The Star and the definitely-not-a-cottage. I think it’s time I saw some more.’

‘Okay, if you’re absolutely, absolutely sure?’

‘I’m double-absolutely sure. But thanks for caring. I mean that, Tom. I have no idea how I would’ve got through the last few days if it hadn’t been for you. And your mum, of course.’

There were those tell-tale blotches again. I suddenly remembered the ‘Tomelia’ clip I’d watched just a couple of hours earlier, which had somehow been relegated to the least important part of the day already.

‘There’s absolutely no need to thank me. Spending this time with you over the last few days is probably the nicest time I’ve had in years.’

I snorted. ‘You mean, with the exception of me vomiting, wailing and injuring you with random objects?’

He shrugged and looked down at his hands, tapping his fingertips together rapidly. ‘All of it.’

Crikey, that wasn’t far off Mark Darcy’s ‘just as you are’ comment inBridget Jones’s Diary.

‘Oh. Thanks. That’s nice of you to say.’

Tom seemed to be weighing something up in his mind.

To fill the pause, I reached for my cup of tea and took another sip, making the mandatory ‘aah’ noise once I’d swallowed. The motion appeared to have afforded him the time he needed before turning to me.

‘Right, so, how about this for an idea. And please say no if this is really inappropriate timing… but I’ve got this Christmas thing with one of my clients tonight and you’d be doing me a massive favour if you fancied tagging along? He’s the owner of the Tapas Den chain and each year he gifts me a slap-up dinner for two. I’ve tried to wheedle my way out of it this year but he refuses to take no for an answer – even after I told him that, well, there is no “two” any more and hasn’t been for quite some time. So he’s insisting on joining me for the meal instead, if I can’t find anyone to take. Which is very generous of him but, well, honestly I don’t know what I’d talk to him about all night. I mean, he’s a lovely bloke and everything, but… argh, God, sorry, I’m rambling. Anyway. If you fancy a free meal with me tonight it’s yours for the taking. What do you say?’

Was Tom Brinton asking me out on a date? Or was I just a convenient plus one? Either way, the prospect of eating out tonight was much more appealing than the tinned Fray Bentos pie that was waiting for me back at the rental.

‘What about your mum? Would she not want to come with you?’

Oh God, did I just inadvertently turn down Tom Brinton and suggest he go out with his mother instead of me?

‘Nah, sadly it’s not the kind of place she can access easily. You’ll see what I mean if you come. So, what do you reckon?’

‘Yeah, go on, then. Where would I need to be and when?’

‘Amazing. I’ll book you a car – the table’s booked for seven thirty so it’ll pick you up at seven if that works?’

‘Perfect.’

‘Great! I’ll WhatsApp you later to confirm the car details. And if you change your mind before then it’s no problem at all, just let me know.’

‘Will do.’

‘You’re sure you’re all right?’

‘Yep, I’m sure. Did you say tapas?’

The last time I’d been out for tapas had been with Elle, Rory and one of his colleagues, who they’d been trying to set me up with for months. As soon as he’d helped himself to four out of five calamari rings that we’d agreed to share, I’d known he wasn’t the one.

‘Yup, is that okay? You don’t have any food allergies or anything?’

‘Oh no, it’s nothing like that… but I should probably warn you that I’ve never been on board with this whole “small plates” thing. So if I get all territorial over my food, please don’t take it personally. I guess that’s what growing up with a ravenous older brother… and a cheeky little sister… does to you.’

Dropping Livvie into conversation like this was unheard of. But I wanted to hear myself talk about her. I wanted others to hear it, too.