Page 11 of The Spark

As I turn it over between my fingers, the scent of Tom Ford Noir rushes back to me. The eye contact. The lightning strike. Nighthawks.

Maybe Parveen is right. Maybe I don’t have anything to lose. Ash seemed genuinely nice, and anyway – there is something about him that makes me intensely curious.

Which is how I find myself doing something I haven’t done in a very long time.

Hi, Ash. It’s Neve from the gallery/KLI

It was nice to meet you earlier

Do you have plans this weekend? Wondering if you fancied a drink?

I hold my breath as I watch the ticks turn blue, then the dots start to bounce.

Hey. It was nice to meet you too.

A drink sounds great.

Straight away, my mind begins to rattle with questions and emotions. Fear and fascination, but also, an urge to see him again that I know is to do with Jamie, my boyfriend of nearly a decade ago. A spark that is unmistakeably excitement. Excitement it makes no sense for me to feel.

Chapter 7.

We live in adjacent postcodes, so I suggest the Ribs of Beef, a pub which is halfway between us.

I get there early, because I always do. But Ash is already waiting at a table inside.

My solar plexus sees him first. His sharp profile and blue shirt, sleeves rolled to the elbows. I try not to think too hard about how attractive he is, about the girls on the next table who eye me up as I arrive and share a disappointed laugh.

As I sit down, I catch it again: Tom Ford Noir. It air-kisses me briefly, like a long-lost friend, then recedes, leaving me reeling.

‘All the tables were full outside, sorry.’ He smiles and slides a glass of wine across the table. It’s rosé, looks dry, my favourite. ‘Hope I guessed okay. I did message to see what you wanted, but... there was pressure at the bar.’

My phone’s deep in my bag. I thank him with a smile. A dry rosé is my summer drink of choice – which means either he just made a very good guess, or he has inside information on me.

I shed my jacket and adjust the neckline of my dress, feeling suddenly apprehensive in a way I haven’t in months.

I’ve been on just three dates in the year since Leo. The first arrived late and left early, the second thought he could be condescending about my job (because he was a molecular biologist), and the third I shared quite a nice kiss with and thought I might see again until he breathily suggested we do it in the back seat of his car.

Ash raises his pint of Guinness to my wine glass. ‘Nice to see you again.’

‘And you. Sorry we didn’t get to chat much last night.’

‘Not at all. It looked like you were in demand.’

‘I was sort of there as a favour to Parveen.’

He smiles. ‘Yeah, she mentioned that.’

I meet his eye and smile back. ‘Can I ask you something?’

‘Of course.’

‘Were you the one—’

‘—who got struck by lightning?’ He nods, but reluctantly.

I wince. ‘Sorry. You must get that a lot.’

I usually stay far away from topics that bring to mind the worst night of my life. But there’s something about Ash that reminds me so strongly of Jamie. Though I can’t quite work out why, I feel impelled to find out more about him.

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