'Thanks. Well ... congratulations.'

'I hope the party goes well,' says Jack, and squeezes my arm briefly. 'Never mind, Emma, you couldn't have known.'

'Darling, I'm sorry!' says Antonio, seeing my face. 'Another night, I'll give you the best table we have. You call in advance, you let me know ...'

'I'll do that,' I manage a smile. 'Thanks, Antonio.'

I can't even look at Jack. I dragged him all the way down to b.l.o.o.d.y Clapham for this.

I have to redeem this situation. Quickly.

'We'll go to the pub,' I say as soon as we're outside on the pavement. 'I mean, what's wrong with just sitting down with a nice drink?'

'Sounds good,' says Jack mildly, and follows me as I hurry down the street to a sign reading The Nag's Head, and push the door open. I've never been in this pub before, but surely it's bound to be fairly- OK. Maybe not.

This has to be the grimmest pub I've ever seen in my life. Threadbare carpet, no music, and with no signs of life except a single man with a paunch.

I cannot have a date with Jack in here. I just can't.

'Right!' I say, swinging the door shut again, 'Let's think again.' I quickly look up and down the street, but apart from Antonio's everything is shut except for a couple of grotty takeaway places and a minicab firm. 'Well ... let's just grab a taxi and head back to town!' I say, with a kind of shrill brightness. 'It won't take too long.'

I stride to the edge of the pavement and stick out my hand.

During the next three minutes not a single car pa.s.ses by. Not just no taxis. No vehicles at all.

'Kind of quiet,' observes Jack at last.

'Well, this is really a residential area. Antonio's is a bit of a one-off.'

Outwardly, I'm still quite calm. But inside I'm starting to panic. What are we going to do? Should we try to walk to Clapham High Street? But it's b.l.o.o.d.y miles away.

I glance at my watch and see with a dart of shock that it's 9.15. We've spent over an hour faffing about and we haven't even had a drink. And it's all my fault. I can't even organize one simple evening without it going catastrophically wrong.

Suddenly I want to burst into tears. I want to sink down on the pavement and bury my head in my hands and sob.

'How about pizza?' says Jack, and my head jerks up in sudden hope.

'Why? Do you know a pizza place round-'

'I see pizza for sale.' He nods at one of the grotty takeaway places. 'And I see a bench.' He gestures to the other side of the road, where there's a tiny railed garden with paving and trees and a wooden bench. 'You get the pizza.' He smiles at me. 'I'll save the bench.'

I have never felt so mortified in my entire life. Ever.

Jack Harper takes me to the grandest, poshest restaurant in the world. And I take him to a park bench in Clapham.

'Here's your pizza,' I say, carrying the hot boxes over to where he's sitting. 'I got margarita, ham and mushroom and pepperoni.'

I can't quite believe this is going to be our supper. I mean, they aren't even nice pizzas. They aren't even gourmet, roasted-artichoke type of pizzas. They're just cheap slabs of dough pastry with melted, congealed cheese, and a few dodgy toppings.

'Perfect,' says Jack with a smile. He takes a large bite, then reaches into his inside pocket. 'Now, this was supposed to be your going home present, but since we're here ...'

I gape as he produces a small, stainless steel c.o.c.ktail shaker and two matching cups. He unscrews the top of the shaker and to my astonishment, pours a pink, transparent liquid into each cup.

Is that ...

'I don't believe it!' I gaze at him, wide-eyed.

'Well, come on. I couldn't let you wonder all your life what it tasted like, could I?' He hands me a cup and raises his towards me. 'Your good health.'

'Cheers.' I take a sip of the c.o.c.ktail ... and oh my G.o.d it's yummy. Sharp and sweet, with a kick of vodka.

'Good?'

'Delicious!' I say, and take another sip.

He's being so nice to me. He's pretending he's having a good time. But what does he think inside? He must despise me. He must think I'm a complete and utter dizzy cow.

'Emma, are you OK?'

'Not really,' I say in a thick voice. 'Jack, I'm so sorry. I really am. I honestly had it all planned. We were going to go to this really cool club where celebrities go, and it was going to be really good fun ...'

'Emma.' Jack puts his drink down and looks at me. 'I wanted to spend this evening with you. And that's what we're doing.'

'Yes. But-'

'That's what we're doing,' he repeats firmly.

Slowly he leans towards me and my heart starts to pound. Oh my G.o.d. Oh my G.o.d. He's going to kiss me. He's going to- 'Arrgh! Arrgh! Arrrgh!'

I leap up off the bench in total panic. A spider is running up my leg. A big black spider. 'Get it off!' I say, frantically.'Get it off!'

With one brisk swipe, Jack brushes the spider off onto the gra.s.s, and I subside back on the bench, my heart racing.

And of course, the mood's completely ruined. Great. Just marvellous. Jack tries to kiss me and I shriek in horror. I'm really doing splendidly tonight.

Why was I so pathetic? I think furiously. Why did I scream? I should have just gritted my teeth!

Not literally gritted my teeth, obviously. But I should have been cool. In fact, I should have been so swept away that I didn't even notice the spider.

'I don't suppose you're afraid of spiders,' I say to Jack, giving an awkward laugh. 'I don't suppose you're afraid of anything.'

Jack gives a noncommittal little smile in return.

'Are you afraid of anything?' I persist.

'Real men don't get afraid,' he says jokily.

In spite of myself, I feel a tiny p.r.i.c.kle of discontent. Jack's not the best person in the world at talking about himself.

'So, where did you get this scar?' I ask, gesturing to his wrist.

'It's a long, boring story.' He smiles. 'You don't want to hear it.'

I do! my mind immediately says. I do want to hear it. But I just smile, and take another sip of my drink.

Now he's just staring ahead into the distance, as if I'm not even there.

Did he forget about kissing me?

Should I kiss him? No. No.

'Pete loved spiders,' he says suddenly. 'Kept them as pets. Huge, furry ones. And snakes.'

'Really?' I pull a face.

'Crazy. He was a crazy f.u.c.king guy.' He exhales sharply.

'You ... still miss him,' I say hesitantly.

'Yes. I still miss him.'

There's another silence. In the distance I can hear a group of people leaving Antonio's, shouting to each other in Italian.

'Did he leave any family?' I say cautiously, and immediately Jack's face closes up.

'Some,' he says.

'Do you see them still?'

'Occasionally.' He exhales sharply, then turns and smiles. 'You have tomato sauce on your chin.' As he reaches up to wipe it away, he meets my eyes. Slowly, he's bending towards me. Oh my G.o.d. This is it, this is really it. This is-'

'Jack.'

We both leap in shock, and I drop my c.o.c.ktail on the ground. I turn round, and stare in utter disbelief. Sven is standing at the gate of the tiny garden.

What the b.l.o.o.d.y f.u.c.k is Sven doing here?

'Great timing,' murmurs Jack. 'Hi, Sven.'

'But ... but what's he doing here?' I stare at Jack. 'How did he know where we were?'

'He called while you were getting the pizza.' Jack sighs and rubs his face. 'I didn't know he'd get here this quickly. Emma ... something's come up. I need to have a quick word with him. I promise it won't take long. OK?'

'OK,' I say with a little shrug. After all, what else can I say? But inside, my whole body is pulsing in frustration, bordering on anger. Trying to keep calm, I reach for the c.o.c.ktail shaker, pour the remains of the pink c.o.c.ktail into my cup and take a deep swig.

Jack and Sven are standing by the gate having an animated conversation in low voices. I take a sip of c.o.c.ktail and casually shift along the bench so I can hear better.

'... what to do from here ...'

'... plan B ... back up to Glasgow ...'

'... urgent ...'

I look up and find myself meeting Sven's eye. Quickly I look away again, pretending to be studying the ground. Their voices descend even lower, and I can't hear a word. Then Jack breaks off and comes towards me.

'Emma ... I'm really sorry about this. But I'm going to have to go.'

'Go?' I stare at him in dismay. 'What, now?'

'I'm going to have to go away for a few days. I'm sorry.' He sits down beside me on the bench. 'But ... it's pretty important.'

'Oh. Oh, right.'

'Sven's ordered a car for you to take you home.'

Great, I think savagely. Thanks a lot, Sven.

'That was really ... thoughtful of him,' I say, and trace a pattern in the dirt with my shoe.

'Emma, I really have to go,' says Jack, seeing my face. 'But I'll see you when I get back, OK? At the Corporate Family Day. And we'll ... take it from there.'

'OK.' I try to smile. 'That would be great.'

'I had a good time tonight.'

'So did I,' I say, staring down at the bench. 'I had a really good time.'

'We'll have a good time again.' Gently he lifts my chin until I'm looking straight at him, 'I promise, Emma.'

He leans forward and this time there's no hesitation. His mouth lands on mine, sweet and firm. He's kissing me. Jack Harper is kissing me on a park bench.

His mouth is opening mine, his stubble is rough against my face. His arm creeps around me and pulls me towards him, and my breath catches in my throat. I find myself reaching under his jacket, feeling the ridges of muscle beneath his shirt, wanting to rip it off. Oh G.o.d, I want this. I want more.

Suddenly he pulls away, and I feel as if I've been wrenched out of a dream.

'Emma, I have to go.'

My mouth is p.r.i.c.kly wet. I can still feel his skin on mine. My entire body is throbbing. This can't be the end. It can't.

'Don't go,' I hear myself saying thickly. 'Half an hour.'

What am I suggesting? That we do it under a bush?

Frankly, yes. Anywhere would do. I have never in my life been so desperate for a man.

'I don't want to go.' His dark eyes are almost opaque. 'But I have to.' He takes my hand, and I cling onto his, trying to prolong contact for as long as possible.

'So ... I'll ... I'll see you.' I can barely talk properly.