LITMIR.BIZ

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I’m not a hundred per cent certain that promising a strange man, even one as apparently nice as this one, that you’ll do anything is necessarily the most sensible idea I’ve ever had.

      ‘I mean, within reason, of course,’ I add, hastily.

      ‘God, yes, yes, of course.’ He fixes his blue eyes on to mine; they’re incredibly earnest and seem to be looking deep into me. ‘The question is, do you think it would be within reason for you to come out to dinner with me tonight?’

      This is absolutely not what I was expecting.

      ‘I mean, you may not be free …’ he adds. ‘In fact, you may not even be single …?’

      ‘Oh, I’m single. And I’m free,’ I go on. ‘This evening. But … look, there’s really no need to take me out to dinner to apologize again.’

      ‘Then I won’t apologize again. For the entirety of our dinner, not a single word of regret or remorse shall pass my lips.’

      I smile. ‘I’ll hold you to that.’

      ‘Good. It’s settled, then. What works for you? I could come and pick you up from … sorry, do you live around here, or something?’

      ‘Yes, I live on this street. I’ve just moved in. Well, I’m living above my new studio, really – I’m a jewellery designer – and I don’t own it, or anything, it’s just …’ I stop myself blithering again. ‘Yes, you could pick me up here. I guess it’ll be convenient for you, too, after you’ve finished work?’

      ‘Yes, it will. So … eight-thirty?’

      ‘Yes. That would be lovely.’

      ‘Terrific. Shall we go for a drink first and then we can decide what we fancy. To eat, I mean,’ he adds, quickly. ‘Sound good?’

      ‘Sounds great.’

      ‘Great. Ah, here comes Esti, with the tea …’

      And here, too, at the same moment, comes Bogdan, who must have glanced out of the window and seen me sitting on the wall over the road.

      And who, I’ll wager, also spotted the incredibly handsome man sitting next to me.

      ‘Libby?’ He breaks into a little jog himself as he crosses the road. ‘What is surpassing?’

      ‘Nothing. Just a very small accident. This is a friend of mine,’ I say, hastily, to Joel, just in case he hasn’t noticed the rainbow trousers and the Harry Styles T-shirt, and thinks Bogdan is my boyfriend, or something. ‘And I should really let you get on with your run.’

      ‘I just got you an English Breakfast,’ Esti is saying, in a pretty indefinable accent of her own, as she reaches us. She hands over a large Starbucks cup. ‘Is that all right?’

      ‘It’s great, thank you, it’s really kind of you.’

      ‘OK, well, if you’re sure you’re OK,’ Joel says, getting to his feet, ‘we’ll leave you in the capable hands of … er …’

      ‘Bogdan,’ Bogdan intones, gazing at Joel with a similar expression on his face to the one he had when he was mooning about Grace Kelly earlier. ‘Am extra-delighted to be making the acquainting of you.’

      ‘Please,’ I say, rather desperately, ‘continue your run. I’ll see you this evening.’

      ‘Eight-thirty,’ Joel reconfirms. ‘Looking forward to it. See you later, Libby.

      Bogdan and I stand and watch as Joel and Esti jog away in the general direction of the park.

      ‘Am never knowing,’ Bogdan says, in a marvelling whisper, ‘how you are doing it.’

      ‘How I’m doing what?’

      ‘Having the super-hot men fall before you like the dead moths in the flame.’

      ‘He didn’t fall before me. He’s invited me out to dinner because he felt bad about knocking me over.’

      Bogdan snorts. ‘This is your biggest problem, Libby. That you are naïve. That you are not seeing the thing that is staring in your face.’

      ‘Hang on, I thought my biggest problem was that I won’t let you give me a proper fringe.’

      ‘You are having,’ he clarifies, ‘many problems. But biggest problem of all is that you are never paying attention to the Destiny. Are you not just saying that you are waiting for dark, handsome stranger to sweep you off the feet?’

      Oh.

      I suppose I did say that.

      But … you know. In jest.

      I wasn’t actually expecting a dark, handsome stranger to … well, quite literally sweep me off my feet.

      Before I can think about this too long or hard, my phone starts to ring. It’s ringing, in fact, from somewhere in the nearby gutter, where it must have been knocked when I went flying.

      ‘It’s Nora,’ I tell Bogdan. ‘I’d better get it. She’ll be wondering why I vanished so suddenly.’

      ‘All right. But do not be taking too long. Will be finishing the flat-pack furniture in half-hour and then we can be sorting out hair before tonight’s hot date.’

      I answer the phone to Nora’s worried face, and begin the explanation about where I suddenly disappeared to as I follow Bogdan, feeling rather sore as I do so, back towards my front door.

      

      Being a dutiful daughter, I’m obviously still planning to stick to the agreement to go and see Mum at the hospital this evening, even though (as Bogdan has helpfully pointed out) I could really, really use the time to get ready for my evening out with Joel the personal trainer.

      Because, despite Bogdan’s hovering around with a pair of scissors and a hopeful expression most of the afternoon, I didn’t end up agreeing to a full makeover (plus fringe sculpt). In amongst all this craziness – Grace Kelly showing up, handsome strangers appearing out of nowhere – I do still have a business to run. This afternoon I spent two solid hours catching up on (mostly bridal) emails before popping up the road again to Starbucks to meet a new (bridal) client face to face to discuss the eight matching pendants she wants to give to her small army of bridesmaids to wear on her wedding day and, of course, the vintage-style bridal tiara she’s really hoping I can make for her in time for her wedding next month.

      Oh, and then just as I was hoping I might get the chance to jump in the shower, shave all the relevant bits that I prefer to shave before I go out for the evening with a man as gorgeous as Joel, then pick out something über-flattering to wear and trowel on a shedload of subtle, natural-looking makeup, Elvira called.

      So obviously I had to answer.

      It wasn’t great, incidentally. Any progress I thought we might have made on the getting-along front yesterday has, obviously, been shattered into pieces. I got a blow-by-blow update on Tino’s appointment at the vet’s (no broken bones or internal damage, apparently, but this hasn’t stopped the vet charging her two hundred quid for the appointment, nor did it stop her announcing that she’ll be sending me the bill) and then she finished up the call with what she called an Official Warning. I must have been feeling emboldened by something, or imbued with some of Grace Kelly’s Teflon exterior, perhaps, because I did ask if it was actually fair to give me an ‘official warning’ when I’m still – nominally, if nothing else – working for myself, in charge of my own company. Which didn’t go down well with Elvira, obviously, and simply led to another ten minutes of her ranting on about how I need to be careful about biting the hand that feeds me, and The Importance Of Trust, and Taking Responsibility for my

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