Oliver keeps his eyes fixed on me as he squeezes my hand. I want to pull my hand away from him, but I can’t, it’s like I’ve become physically attached to him. What the hell did he say?

‘Us,’ I say, the word buzzing inside my mind.

‘You must’ve felt the connection between us when you first came here,’ he says, lowering his voice. Someone laughs behind me, making me jump.

What’s he saying? Does he want us to . . . to be together?

‘Um, I’m not sure . . . it’s not something I’ve given much thought,’ I reply. Around me people are talking, unaware of the conversation we’re having. God if some of the people here could hear what we’re talking about, they’d be thinking Oliver’s some sort of pervert.

He leans forward in his seat, squeezing my hand tighter. ‘I understand this must be a bit sudden for you, Grace, but you must feel it. When we start working together on the exercises again, you are going to realise that . . .’ he breaks off, it’s as if he’s trying to find the right words. ‘That we’re meant to be together.’

I shrink back in my seat. I want to get out. I want to run back to the house, get Callum and go. This was a mistake, I shouldn’t have come here.

‘It’s . . . it’s a lot to think about,’ I say, picking up my fork, the metal is cool against the palm of my hand. ‘I’ve only been back for a couple of days; it’s not enough time for me to . . . for me to develop feelings for someone.’ How can he seriously think I want to be with him? I barely know him.

Oliver nods. ‘I’ve always felt this connection to you,’ he says. ‘For years, I just knew, one day, you would find your way back to me.’

I feel sick. ‘Have you?’ I smile weakly at him. ‘Actually, d’you mind if I just use the bathroom?’

Disappointment crosses his eyes. Shit, I’ve offended him. But right now, I want to get away. ‘Of course,’ he says.

I stand from my seat, it knocks into the person sitting behind me; I mouth an apology as they switch round, glaring. Panic grows in my chest as I head to the back of the restaurant, past the bar area. It looks like there’s only one unisex toilet. I dive in and lock the door, breathing hard. This can’t be right, this can’t be happening. My head swarms.

I run the tap with cold water and splash my face. How can Oliver expect me to want to be with him . . . he’s twenty-odd-years-older than me for a start? Mary and Jeremiah must know about this as well, I can’t imagine him keeping this from them. There’s another burst of laughter coming from outside in the restaurant. I picture Oliver sitting there, picking at a breadstick, taking a sip of his wine. I’m going to have to go back out and join him. I spin around; pull the towel off the hook on the wall. I grimace; knowing everyone will have used it to wipe their hands, but it’ll have to do. I rub it around my face, check myself in the mirror again and leave the bathroom. The waitress is placing our starters on the table as I make my way back out into the restaurant.

‘Sorry about that,’ I say, doing my best to smile as I sit back down.

I can’t stomach the thought of eating anything now. Oliver’s already tucking into his bruschetta.

‘Don’t worry about it, Grace. Let’s have a nice evening, shall we?’

There’s tension in his voice. What was he expecting, for me to just fall head over heels at his feet and tell him how much I want to be with him as well? God I hope my real Mum and Dad aren’t looking down at me right now. What the hell would they be thinking if they could see us? They were best friends with Oliver, once upon a time.

I pick up my fork and cut into my garlic bread, the smell of melted cheese wafting into my nostrils as I do.