was at university we used to stick brooms down people’s clothes to stop them lying on their backs.”
“Was I horribly drunk?” My mortification is real.
“You were horribly drunk. You wanted to go home, but you couldn’t remember where you live. I don’t usually bring strange women back to my flat, but it seemed like a safer option than leaving you collapsed in a doorway in Charlotte Street.”
“Do you often rescue drunken strangers?” I attempt a smile.
“It does happen from time to time. I’m quite good at helping those in need,” he says, cracking the eggs in the pan. “Especially when they’re damsels in distress.”
“I’m really sorry,” I say. “I don’t usually drink like that. It’s been a rough few days.”
“Oh? Anything you feel like talking about? I know you don’t know me, but sometimes it’s easier to talk to strangers.” He flips the bacon in another pan and slides four slices of whole-grain bread into the toaster.
“I might be able to talk to you if I knew just a little more about you,” I say, sipping the coffee and starting to feel vaguely human again. “Just so I know you’re not Jason the Ripper or anything.”
He lets out a bark of laughter. “I’m definitely not Jason the Ripper. I’m Jason Halliwell, television director extraordinaire. Right now I’m working with Channel 4 on the series we launched last night. Where we met. Chez Gerard. Do you remember that?” He peers at me as I gratefully nod. “Okay. Good. So, I was born in London, brought up in Primrose Hill, before, by the way, it was Primrose Hill.”
“You mean before it was overrun by celebrities?” I think of all the pictures of Liam Gallagher and Patsy Kensit, Jude Law and Sadie Frost, Jamie Oliver, all living their lives in the leafy green of Primrose Hill.
“Exactly. The most famous person there when I was growing up was Alan Bennett, and he wasn’t even technically Primrose Hill. Gloucester Crescent. Camden.” I nod. Even Alan Bennett sounds impossibly glamorous, Primrose Hill being my second choice, after Notting Hill, for where I would live now if money were no object.
“What else?” I push, but what I really want to know is, do you have a girlfriend? Are you available? Might there be any possibility that you could be interested in me, because my God! You are just the sort of man I could see myself with, thank you very much.
“I’m thirty something years old, have two sisters, and parents who have retired to the Cotswolds. This flat used to be the living room and drawing room of the house I grew up in. My parents converted it into flats, and I ended up with this one.”
I swivel on the stool and look out the window, noting the pretty pastel-colored terraced houses. Of course it’s Primrose Hill. As if it could be anywhere else.
“What are the three most important things to know about you?” I ask, although that isn’t what I want to ask. All I want to know right now is whether he has a girlfriend.
“Hmmm. Good question. Okay. I love chocolate. Seriously. It’s a huge addiction of mine that means I have to have chocolate every day.”
“Milk or dark?”
“Milk?” He grimaces. “I wouldn’t touch that crap if you paid me. Dark. The darker, the better. I’m embarrassed to tell you I’m a member of a gourmet chocolate club. Every month they send samples of chocolate.”
“Do you have any?”
His face falls. “No. I finished it off last week. But—” His face lights up again as he joins me on the stool next to mine, two plates filled with eggs, bacon, and toast in his hands. “I’m expecting a new delivery later this week, so you can try it then.”
I resist the urge to leap up from the stool and do a dance of joy. Surely he would not have said that if he weren’t the tiniest bit interested in me? Surely he wouldn’t be suggesting we see each other again if that were not the case?
“What else?”
“I love cats. I know, I know, it’s a terribly unmasculine thing to admit to, but I’m afraid it’s true.”
“I don’t think it’s unmasculine. I think it shows you have a sensitive side.”
“That’s what I was hoping you’d say.” He grins.
“So where’s the cat?” I look around the flat, expecting to see one, but nothing.
“Albert is usually outside, hunting. He comes back when he’s hungry. Sadly he’s turned out not to be a cuddly sort of cat at all, so