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The door opened, and Kit was standing there. He had showered and changed; his dark hair was damp and he smelt of Dior Homme. He was wearing jeans and a long-sleeved dark T-shirt which hugged his body, his battered leather jacket slung over the top. He looked like a movie star, and the sight of him almost took Tara’s breath away.

‘Sorry, Tara, I didn’t realise you had company,’ he said, looking round the dressing room and taking everyone in. ‘I was just popping in to say bye. I’m off now. Fantastic performance tonight, by the way.’

‘You can’t leave now!’ Tara exclaimed. ‘Come in and say hi to everyone. I think you met most of them at Sally’s party. And these are my parents,’ she added, delighted to have the opportunity to introduce Kit to her famous mother and father, watching carefully as he shook hands with Neville and kissed Elizabeth on the cheek.

‘We’re heading out for a spot of supper,’ Neville began. ‘Would you like to join us? You’d be most welcome.’

Tara’s stomach flipped, and at that moment she wanted to high-five her father for inviting Kit. He looked so incredibly handsome, cool and confident with his laidback manner, seeming to take everything in his stride. She would love for her parents to get to know him better too, to meet the kind, funny, sexy guy she had grown so close to during rehearsals.

‘Yes, Kit, you must come with us,’ Tara insisted, linking her arm through his and gazing up at him, as though they were still playing their characters. She watched as Kit looked around the room, his gaze seeming to settle somewhere for a moment, before he turned back to Neville.

‘Thank you,’ he replied politely, his broad northern accent contrasting sharply with Lord Oliver’s cut-glass tones. ‘I’d love to join you.’

Joe Allen was a West End institution. Situated in Covent Garden, and a sister restaurant to the New York eaterie, it stayed open late and was always crammed with theatre legends enjoying the comfort food and informal atmosphere.

It looked full when the group arrived, but when the maître d’ saw Lord Oliver space was instantly made, with the staff magically managing to accommodate the unexpected party of eight. Kit tried not to appear too wide-eyed and naïve as they threaded their way past the famous faces winding down after their shows, but in truth this world was new to him and he was slightly starstruck. Originally from Manchester, he had won a scholarship to RADA and been picked up by an agent during his final showcase. He had performed in a couple of fringe theatre productions and had some small television roles, but This Is Us was his highest profile job to date, putting him into a different league. He felt at turns exhilarated and terrified. And now here he was, sitting down to dinner with Lord and Lady Oliver, for heaven’s sake.

He caught Fliss’s eye; she was already seated and he moved around the table to the empty chair beside her. Tara followed him, sitting down on his other side and moving in close. She grinned up at him, laying a hand proprietorially on his arm. Kit shifted uncomfortably; he didn’t want to be rude – it was Tara’s father’s hospitality that he was currently enjoying – but nor did he want Tara to get the wrong impression. She was great, but he wasn’t interested in her …

‘Champagne all round!’ Neville commanded, and Kit took in the way the staff hurried obsequiously, alert to Lord Oliver’s every demand. As an actor, it was a fascinating lesson in status for Kit. He had no interest in joining in with the loud anecdotes, or competing for attention, in the way that Tara and her family bounced off one another, each trying to be the cleverest, the funniest, the most entertaining. They were clearly wonderful raconteurs, but to Kit, observing people was more interesting than trying to get a word in edgeways.

He turned to Fliss – he had been highly aware of her since he had sat down. She looked stunning, dressed simply in a smart black dress that fitted her incredible figure, her strawberry blonde hair hanging long and loose.

‘I’m Kit,’ he said, reaching across to shake her hand. She took it, her soft hand enveloped by his larger one. ‘We met briefly the other night.’

‘I remember,’ Fliss said. Her blue eyes were luminous; they seemed to sparkle as she looked at him, and for a moment Kit felt tongue-tied.

‘You left early,’ he said.

‘You noticed?’ Fliss seemed surprised, then a pink flush spread across her cheeks and Kit thought how adorable she looked.

‘It would be hard not to notice you …’ Kit began, but then his attention was distracted as Tara tapped his arm.

‘Kit, what are you having? Everything looks so delicious. Have you heard, they do a secret off-menu burger – if you’re in the know then you can ask for it.’

Kit turned to her, not wanting to be impolite, but frustrated by once again being denied the opportunity to speak to Fliss. There was something about her … In truth, he hadn’t been able to stop thinking about her since he had met her at the club opening.

‘Oh, sorry, I haven’t decided,’ he said, scanning the menu without taking in the words. Fortunately for him, Tara’s attention was taken by one of her other friends, and he had the opportunity to turn back to Fliss.

‘Did you enjoy the play?’ he asked, then instantly regretted it. It sounded as though he was fishing for compliments, and he didn’t want her to think he was arrogant.

But Fliss broke into a wide smile that lit up her whole face. ‘It was amazing!’ she told him, her eyes wide as she gazed up at him. ‘I couldn’t take my eyes off you – I mean, all of you, not just you! You were amazing, but so was everyone … Oh I’m making a twit of myself!’

‘No!’ he said quickly. ‘That was a dumb thing to ask you. In fact, I’m a twit too. Not that you’re a twit, you seem lovely, totally not a twit in any sense … Oh God, I am actually making a complete idiot of myself now!’

They looked at each other and burst out laughing.

Kit composed himself, held out his hand and said, ‘Nice to meet you, Twit Number One.’

Fliss took his hand and said, ‘I’m charmed, Twit Number Two.’

They held each other’s eyes and hands for a moment, the air silently fizzing between them.

Kit thought there was something about her that made it hard to think straight. Her lips were soft and full, and her body was knockout, with her slender waist and long, slim legs that seemed to go on forever …

‘Sorry to break up the party. Kit?’ Tara’s voice cut through the noise that surrounded them. Kit glanced up and realised everyone was looking at him, the waiter hovering expectantly. Was Tara pouting, he wondered?

‘Oh, I’ll … I’ll have the burger, thanks. Sounds great,’ he said, as the waiter nodded and took his menu away.