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guzzled my way through a twelve-inch Hawaiian with extra cheese then waded through a huge slice of chocolate fudge cake. We did ask for two spoons, though, so I told myself that was okay. Not too greedy.
    “What a hungry little thing you are, Miss Byrne. You do seem to have worked up quite an appetite. Perhaps I should beat you unconscious more often. Or would you just put on weight?”
    I glance up, to catch his wide grin. I smile back, before digging my spoon into the sticky fudge cake once more.
    “Not if I get plenty of exercise?”
    He laughs out loud at that. “Ah yes, of course, Miss Byrne. Best to keep active. And I can definitely help you with that. Eat up.”
    Nathan’s mobile interrupts our dessert. It’s James, his mission accomplished, with instructions for picking up opera tickets at the Leeds Grand box office. The other tickets, for the Playhouse and the ballet in Bradford, will be emailed to Nathan.
    “Thanks, James, brilliant job, much appreciated. And thanks for staying late. See you next week. Have a nice weekend.” Hanging up, Nathan turns to me, his gorgeous face lit by a sexy smile, his now loose hair flopping around his collar. “We’ve a couple of hours before we need to be at the theatre. Fancy a walk…by way of keeping active?”
    I expected to find myself back in his apartment within minutes, naked, and very thoroughly fucked. So it’s come as something of a surprise to be just strolling along the Leeds waterfront, hand in hand, enjoying the balmy warmth of a late summer afternoon. And for once, it’s dry. Nathan’s still wearing his dark grey suit pants and smart white shirt, meticulously ironed— I wonder who does that for him?— but the tie’s gone and his jacket is looped over his shoulder. His usual businesslike severity has been switched off with the loosening of his long hair, now brushing his collar, ruffled by the slight breeze. He looks more relaxed, carefree. Softer.
    My hair is caught up into a loose plait between my shoulder blades, the best I could do quickly in my hurry to get ready after my shower in Nathan’s apartment. I didn’t bring a jacket with me when I went down to my ‘appointment’ at Darke Associates, so I might be cold later. But for now I’m floating. Every few yards I find something interesting to examine and, curious as always, I stop, fish my glasses from my bag and peer at some little touristy plaque commemorating this or that. Nathan just watches me, a strange smile on his mouth. I suspect there’s some private joke going on in his head, and it can stay there. I’m doing nothing, saying nothing, asking no questions that might break this mood. Shatter this happy bubble.
    I’m happy. Consciously, gloriously happy. Happy now, in this moment. Not, as is more usual for me, in retrospect, looking back, realising afterwards that I was happy then. That I used to be happy, whenever. And I also know that my remembered happinesses are few and far between, far too infrequent. I make a mental note to read up on happiness—the psychologists must have done studies. Maybe this is how other people feel. Maybe I could do a course in being happy… How come I never thought of that before? Probably because I didn’t realise I wasn’t happy, not in the past. I was just getting on with stuff, getting by. Now, I know different.
    Apart from a few office types scurrying in the direction of Leeds city station for their Friday evening commute home we have the dock to ourselves. We grab a couple of takeaway Costa lattes and are soon sitting, facing each other across a picnic table on a patio outside the Royal Armouries building. We sip our coffees quietly. Calm. Companionable. Enjoying an interlude of peace and quiet. The perfect opportunity it seems for Nathan to start his campaign to strip me bare.
    “So, I’m curious, Eva. ‘Profoundly gifted’ I think you said… Is that right?” He slants a glance at me before returning to idly stir his latte. He doesn’t