I wasn't going to put him straight about that. Nor was I likely to even hint at who I might be interested in. 'It isn't any of your business,' I told him, hostile to the idea that he had even asked.

‘I see,' he said again. Still, his face spoke of repressed anger more than any other emotion. He made me nervous, as though he might explode at any moment. 'Then I'll leave you alone.' His eyes lingered on mine for a moment, then he turned and went back into the Victorian prison. I retreated across the yard, in the opposite direction to him. He'd left me unsettled. I hoped I'd seen the last of him. Maybe it was the experience of the storeroom earlier, perhaps it was that last look he'd given me, maybe it was misplaced instinct, but somehow I knew I'd see him again. And that notion worried me in a way I couldn't justify even to myself.

I ate take-away pizza for my dinner that evening and immersed myself in music until I fell asleep on the sofa. I finally crawled into bed at about two in the morning, thoroughly glad the next day was my day off. I was looking forward to seeing Aly too. I made the admission to myself with no reservations, a warm glow suffusing me as I drifted back to sleep.

I tried not to think during the time I spent getting ready and traveling on the bus to meet her, the next morning. When I tried to consider my feelings, they swirled around and around in my head and twisted themselves into contorted notions. Yes, the maybe was there again, the haunting question, floating with all the other ideas. But I knew I needed to see her. That was simple enough. Let everything else wait until then.

She was waiting at the bus stop when my bus pulled in with a dramatic hissing of brakes. She waved as it approached, to make sure, I assume, that I saw her and actually got off the bus. I noticed some of the other passengers looking at her, and it gave me an odd thrill to think she was waiting for me.

I felt shy again, walking towards her as she waited. She wore blue jeans today, a studded black leather belt, and a black shirt open over a white T-shirt. Even the loose shirt did not disguise her figure entirely, and the fierceness with which my body responded to the sight of her caught me by surprise. A touch of make-up at her eyes again. For me? I wondered, a smile of excitement twitching at my lips. I went over my appearance again in my mind: black jeans, sleeveless jersey top with an embroidered slash neckline. It had an ethnic feel about it that I liked but I'd not wanted to seem like I'd made an effort. Yes, I'd done my makeup too. So I'd made an effort. I just didn't want her to know it.

'Hi,' I said, smiling at her.

'Hello.' She grinned back. There was a new tension between us, but I had expected it to be there and it didn't frighten me. I only hoped to keep my composure and not reveal the turbulent emotions I had no chance of suppressing.

‘I made it,' I said, meeting her gaze for the first time, catching my breath as her eyes looked directly into mine.

'Not too hard, was it?' She seemed to mean far more than simply following the directions to the correct bus stop and I was sure both of us were aware of the implication in her question.

'No, not since it was the same bus,' I said simply. 'So, where are we going for lunch?'

'Hungry?'

'Yes, actually.' I was also keen for us to move on from the greeting, the standing facing each other on the pavement, wondering what to say next.

We walked silently awhile, down what was a largely residential street, with leafy beech trees at intervals along the pavement. Both of us were thinking, but the silence was companionable enough, despite the knots my guts were tying themselves into.

'Good few days?' she asked eventually.

'Eventful, actually,' I told her, 'especially yesterday. He came back for a start.' I saw her glance across at me for a moment.

'The one from the pub?' she asked. Did she sound slightly anxious herself? I wondered what it was that could have made that slight strain intrude into her normally laid-back tone. Concern for me? Maybe more than concern for me? I was conscious that I liked the idea. It was easy, I found, not to be so confused when I was by her side.

'Yes, and I sent him on his way. I'll tell you the whole story later,' I said, hoping she was reassured. She was quiet for a few moments as we walked.

'You know, you're going to have to suggest where we go next time,' she said at last.

'Yeah, sorry,' I agreed, pleased to think there would be a next time. I'd not thought much beyond today. It seemed oddly decisive, as though everything depended on the next few hours.

'Oh, I don't mind,' she said, 'just I'm sure there're places you'd prefer.'

'I'm happy either way,' I assured her. I enjoyed seeing the places she liked, learning something about her through them.

'Well, it's just here,' she said, as we came to a shopfront. I saw it was a delicatessen sandwich bar, and I looked at the name above the door.

'A French cafe and an Italian sandwich place?' I asked her, raising my eyebrows. 'You're very Continental.'

'I just like places that are a bit different,' she explained. T guess I got used to the variety in London while I was there.'

Unintentionally reminding me of her worldliness compared with my own lack of it made her vaguely intimidating to me again. I smiled past it. 'Looks good,' I said.

Inside, there was a long counter, with a glass front, and all manner of sandwich fillings and salad, all very fresh and appetizing, set out to choose from. There was a delicious scent of garlic and herbs. Aly greeted the small dark man behind the counter as though she came in here often.

'Usual?' he asked her.

'Of course,' she replied.

'What's the usual?' I whispered to her, bewildered myself by the range on offer.

'Are you ready?' she asked, eyes laughing. 'It's an olive and rosemary focaccia, with smoked soft cheese, sliced tomato, basil, garlic mayonnaise, and parmesan slivers.' She looked at my expression. 'It took me some time to perfect the combination,' she confided. 'To begin with, I just went for tomato and mozzarella on ciabatta, with a drizzle of mayo.'

I watched as the man gathered up the ingredients to make her sandwich. He made it remarkably quickly, and handed her a plate. I wondered how on earth she was going to eat such a mountain, then felt flustered as he asked me for my order. 'Er,' I hesitated, 'I think I'll try the herb focaccia, with mozzarella, tomato, basil, and garlic mayonnaise, please,' I managed.

'Nice choice,' Aly said by my shoulder. I smiled and relaxed, finally.

Aly insisted on paying for lunch, since she'd invited me, she said. We took our sandwiches to one of the four round red-and-white gingham-covered tables set up in the small space in front of the counter. I was glad the cafe owner disappeared into the back of the building somewhere as we ate, since it was quiet in the cafe and everything I said and every movement I made left me feeling conspicuous while he was present.

'How the hell are you going to eat that?' I asked her as we settled.

'Just watch and learn,' she retorted. I did watch, as she crushed the bread between her fingers. A small amount of mayonnaise oozed from the side, but she merely turned the sandwich to eat that section first. How she opened her mouth wide enough to take a bite was a mystery to me, but somehow she managed, and then put the sandwich down, her mouth full and mayonnaise at its corners. I laughed at her, more at ease than at any other time in her company, and turned my attention to my more delicate sandwich.

The necessity of chewing the focaccia bread and managing the dribbles of delicious garlic mayonnaise kept us pretty much silent as we ate. Though I was forced to concentrate on my food, I couldn't help glancing up at her continually, looking away just when there was any danger of her eyes meeting mine. She seemed to make the air vibrate with invisible waves, I was so acutely aware of her presence across the short distance of the small table. When we'd both finished, and wiped at our mouths with the paper napkins, Aly took our plates to the counter. She waited there a moment, as I watched, apparently considering something, and then she came back to the table.

'You know,' she began, her eyes unexpectedly animated and her manner less relaxed than previously, 'I was going to order coffee. But then I thought, well, my place is only ten minutes' walk from here. Do you want to get coffee there?'

'Oh, the old coffee cliché?' I joked, before realizing what I was implying and turning red, a wave of embarrassed heat sweeping through me.

'I mean, if you don't want to, it's fine,' she added hastily, seeing my color.

'No. I mean, it sounds good to me. I'd like to see your place,' I said. My heart beat a little faster at the thought, and my stomach flip-flopped once or twice. But I did want to. The protective wall of my confused emotions seemed to have disappeared. I rose on slightly shaky legs and followed her into the street.