Keep calm, I tell myself. It's just dinner. That's all it is. Nothing special. Nothing out of the—'

'Fuck!' Lissy's looking out of the window in the sitting room. 'Fuck! There's a great big car outside!'

'What? Where?' I hurry to join her, my heart galloping. As I follow her gaze, I almost can't breathe.

An enormous posh car is waiting outside our house. I mean, enormous. It's silver and shiny, and looks incredibly conspicuous in our tiny little street. In fact I can see some people looking curiously out of the house opposite.

And all at once I'm really scared. What am I doing? This is a world I know nothing about. When we were sitting on those plane seats, Jack and I were just two people on an equal level. But look at us now. Look at the world he lives in — and look at the world I live in.

'Lissy,' I say in a tiny voice. 'I don't want to go.'

'Yes you do!' says Lissy — but I can see, she's just as freaked out as me.

The buzzer goes, and we jump.

I feel like I might throw up.

OK. OK. Here I go.

'Hi,' I say into the intercom. 'I'll … I'll be right down.' I put the phone down and look at Lissy.

'Well,' I say in a trembling voice. 'This is it!'

'Emma.' Lissy grabs my hands. 'Before you go. Don't take any notice of what Jemima said. Just have a lovely time.' She hugs me tightly. 'Call me if you get a chance.'

'I will.'

I take one last look at myself in the mirror, then open the door and make my way down the stairs.

I open the door, and Jack's standing there, wearing a jacket and tie. He smiles at me, and all my fears fly away like butterflies. Jemima's wrong. This isn't me against him. This is me with him.

'Hi,' he says, smiling warmly. 'You look very nice.'

'Thanks.'

I reach for the door handle, but a man in a peaked cap rushes forward to open it for me.

'Silly me!' I say nervously.

I can't quite believe I'm getting into this car. Me. Emma Corrigan. I feel like a princess. I feel like a movie star.

I sit down on the plushy seat, trying not to think how different this is from any car I've ever been in, ever.

'Are you OK?' says Jack.

'Yes! I'm fine!' My voice is a nervous squeak.

'Emma,' says Jack. 'We're going to have fun. I promise. Did you have your pre-date sweet sherry?'

How did he know—

Oh yes. I told him on the plane.

'Yes, I did actually,' I admit.

'Would you like some more?' He opens the bar and I see a bottle of Harvey's Bristol Cream sitting on a silver platter.

'Did you get that especially for me?' I say in disbelief.

'No, it's my favourite tipple.' His expression is so deadpan, I can't help laughing. 'I'll join you,' he says, as he hands me a glass. 'I've never tasted this before.' He pours himself a deep measure, takes a sip, and splutters. 'Are you serious?'

'It's yummy! It tastes like Christmas!'

'It tastes like …' He shakes his head. 'I don't even want to tell you what it tastes like. I'll stick to whisky if you don't mind.'

'OK,' I say with a shrug. 'But you're missing out.' I take another sip and grin happily at him. I'm completely relaxed already.

This is going to be the perfect date.

THIRTEEN

We arrive at a restaurant in Mayfair which I've never been to before. In fact I'm not even sure I've been to Mayfair before. It's so completely posh, why ever would I?

'It's a kind of private place,' Jack murmurs as we walk through a pillared courtyard. 'Not many people know about it.'

'Mr Harper. Miss Corrigan,' says a man in a Nehru suit, appearing out of nowhere. 'Please come this way.'

Wow! They know my name!

We glide past more pillars into an ornate room in which about three other couples are seated. There's a couple to our right, and as we walk past, a middle-aged woman with platinum hair and a gold jacket catches my eye.

'Well, hello!' she says. 'Rachel!'

'What?' I look around, bewildered. Is she looking at me?

She gets up from her seat and, lurching slightly, comes and gives me a kiss. 'How are you, darling? We haven't seen you for ages!'

OK, you can smell the alcohol from five yards away. And as I glance over at her dinner partner, he looks just as bad.

'I think you've made a mistake,' I say politely. 'I'm not Rachel.'

'Oh!' The woman stares at me for a moment. Then she glances at Jack and her face snaps in understanding. 'Oh! Oh, I see. Of course you're not.' She gives me a little wink.

'No!' I say in horror. 'You don't understand. I'm really not Rachel. I'm Emma.'

'Emma. Of course!' She nods conspiratorially. 'Well, have a wonderful dinner! And call me some time.'

As she stumbles back to her chair, Jack gives me a quizzical look.

'Is there something you want to tell me?'

'Yes,' I say. 'That woman is extremely drunk.' As I meet his gaze, I can't help giving a tiny giggle, and his mouth twitches.