The Spark - Jules Wake Page 0,30

made me burst out laughing, which handily hid the leap in my pulse and the warm burst of something between my thighs.

We studied the menus and although he was no longer holding my hand, his lay side by side with mine, our thumbs linked in a casual, easy touch.

‘So what are you going to have?’ he asked.

‘I shouldn’t, but I’m going to have Spaghetti Bolognese.’

‘Why not?’

‘Because I can make it any time at home and I ought to have something more … fancy.’

‘Why? You should have exactly what you want.’

‘What are you having?’

He grinned at me. ‘Spaghetti Bolognese, because it’s my absolutely favourite and if you can make it…’ The mock swoon he did at the table made me giggle.

The waiter appeared and we placed our orders.

‘Can you cook?’ I asked, suddenly curious for details as the waiter disappeared, leaving us alone again. Despite feeling like I knew him, there was so much about him I actually didn’t know. ‘Where do you live? And did you live with…?’

‘I cook a mean English breakfast, my poached eggs are to die for, and that’s not a line, by the way.’ He winked. By this stage I was comfortably sure that breakfast would be on the cards in the not too distant future. ‘My BLT sandwiches are a lunchtime legend. And people have been known to rave about my Chicken Dansak, Prawn Pathia and Lamb Mogwai.’

‘That’s quite a particular repertoire.’ I giggled. ‘Although isn’t a mogwai from Gremlins?’

Sam waved a blasé ‘whatever’ hand. ‘Mogwai. Mogli. Muggli. Mrs Patel. Grandma at school. Her grandson Milan is in my class. At the end of term she always brings in a curry for us.’ He grinned. ‘She thinks it’s shocking that I’m not married yet. So she gave me the recipes for the curries and came into the school kitchen to teach me how to cook them. That’s my entire repertoire. You’ll have to come over for dinner. As long as you like curry.

‘And no, Vic and I didn’t live together…’ He paused, his look direct as if he too didn’t want to give her any more of our evening. ‘Thank God. It would have made breaking up even harder.’ He frowned. ‘I mean, getting away from her. She wanted to move in together. I was the one that didn’t. She comes from quite a wealthy background. Her flat is … well, not what I could afford. Mine’s housing association. Only twenty-five per cent is mine. It’s a start.’ He shrugged.

‘Snap,’ I said. ‘You don’t get paid much working for a charity.’

His phone beeped again. I glanced at it, catching sight of the text appearing on the screen, the three letters of Vic’s name obvious even upside down and at a distance.

‘Sorry.’ He winced and put the phone on silent before turning it over.

‘Cool cover,’ I said, catching sight of the words on the case.

Being a teacher is as easy as riding a bike … except the bike is on fire, you are on fire, everything is on fire.

‘One of the kids’ mums bought it for me at the end of term last year.’

‘That was thoughtful.’

‘It was, and a welcome relief from the usual teacher gifts.’

‘Do you get many?’

‘Tons. I never have to buy socks.’ He grinned at me and lifted a leg out from under the table, pulling up his trouser leg to reveal a Homer Simpson sock. ‘Or chocolate biscuits. Or cake tins. I have to run every day in the holidays to work off all the Quality Street. And I have boxes of Fox’s Assorted Biscuits stockpiled that will last until the Christmas after next.’

‘Poor you,’ I teased. ‘Must be tough.’

‘I guess you don’t get much in the way of leaving gifts.’

‘No, but that’s not why I do the job. When a family leaves us, usually it’s the start of a new chapter in their lives. And no one’s kidding anyone that it’s going to be sunshine and roses. But occasionally,’ I pulled out my key ring which sported a bright pink, purple and electric-blue wool pom-pom, ‘residents make us something. Lady called Nadya gave this to me.’ I stroked it. The pom-pom was huge and, to be honest, a right pain. You couldn’t just shove it in your back pocket if you were popping out for milk or stuff it in a cute clutch bag if you were out at night. But it was a wonderful reminder of a success story and I wouldn’t be parted from it.

‘She came to the refuge