‘Thanks.’
‘I’m dying to know what you think of it. Let me know when you’ve read it.’
‘I will.’ It pleased Claire that Mark valued her opinion. They had become friendly on Twitter through chatting about books. The first time Mark had tweeted her it wasbecause she had been raving about the book she was reading, and it turned out to be one he’d just published. Over time, they’d found they had very similar taste, and when they did disagree on something, Mark was always keen to hear her views.
She put the book on the arm of the sofa, and helped herself to more nachos, loading them up with sour cream, salsa and guacamole.
‘How’s your writing going?’ Mark asked. ‘How’s the novel coming along?’
‘Very slowly. I don’t have a lot of time, what with work and looking after my mum, and the blog is very time-consuming. But I’ve almost finished the first draft.’
‘Don’t forget to send it to me whenever you’re ready.’
The prospect of Mark reading her novel was exciting and also terrifying. She admired his taste and his opinion meant a lot to her. She’d hate it if he didn’t rate something she’d written.
‘I will.’ She took a gulp of her wine. ‘I just hope you like it.’
‘I can’t imagine not liking something you’d written.’
‘Well, it’s very different from the blog, obviously.’ If not quite as different as he thought. They were both fiction.
Mark forked the last of the nachos onto his plate. ‘What are you reading at the moment?’ he asked.
The talk turned to books, and the time flew by as they discussed what they’d read recently and writers they knew on Twitter or through work. Mark shared some gossip about writers he’d met, and Claire told him about the ones who had held events in the shop, who was rude and obnoxious, who had turned out to be unexpectedly sweet and unassuming. Suddenly it was after midnight and she found she was exhausted.
‘I’m going to have to call it a night,’ she said, yawning.
‘God, sorry – I didn’t notice the time.’
‘I didn’t either,’ she said. She had been so caught up in their conversation, she hadn’t noticed it getting late, or how tired she was.
‘Well, goodnight,’ he said, as he got up. He pulled her into his arms and kissed her slowly and lingeringly. ‘Help yourself to anything you need. I’ll see you in the morning.’
The next morning at breakfast, Mark announced that he was going to take her to ‘the most romantic place in London’, so she was more than a little alarmed when they turned up at the gates of Highgate Cemetery.
‘Seriously, this is where we’re going? A cemetery?’
‘I know – such a clichéd second date.’ Mark smiled.
‘Is there something I should know about you?’
‘Wait and see.’ He took her hand. ‘Unfortunately, we can’t just wander around on our own. You have to join a guided tour. Apart from that, the west cemetery really is the most romantic place I know in London.’
‘I knew you were too good to be true.’
But it turned out he was right, and Claire found herself completely enchanted as they walked along the twisting wooded paths among ivy-clad monuments and ancient crumbling tombstones watched over by winged angels. Despite the presence of the tour group, the atmosphere was tranquil and ethereal, and it was like being transported back in time as they explored the dank catacombs and gazed in awe at colossal ornate mausoleums.
‘Okay, you were right,’ Claire whispered to Mark, as they walked along. ‘This is incredibly romantic.’
‘You like it?’
‘I love it! It’s so beautiful.’ She thought it was one of the most extraordinary places she’d ever been to, and sheonly wished they could have stayed longer. She could happily have spent several hours wandering around on her own.
They picked up bread and cheese at a deli on the way home, and had lunch in the garden as it was a warm, sunny day. The errant Millie finally turned up, stalking imperiously across the grass to Claire and circling around her chair before trotting over to Mark and springing into his lap, where she curled up.
‘I think you’ve been maligning her,’ Claire said, nodding to the ginger tabby that was nuzzling Mark’s hand as he petted her. ‘She seems quite devoted.’
‘She’s just marking her territory because you’re here,’ Mark said, stroking Millie’s ears. ‘Bloody cat in the manger. Aren’t you?’ But his features softened as he looked down at her adoringly.
