‘Speaks the man who’s been to the North Pole,’ she grinned.
He caught up with her and their strides fell into step with one another.
‘I thought you were never going to ring,’ he said finally. ‘What changed your mind about writing for me?’
‘The excitement of the fresh and the new,’ she said quietly.
She glanced across but couldn’t read his expression: amusement, disappointment? She didn’t know what she had been expected to say.
She felt her teeth chatter and stopped to button up her coat, even though Sam’s house was within sight.
‘Here. Take this,’ said Dominic, removing his scarf and putting it around her neck.
She tried to stop him but he just grinned.
‘See. It suits you better than it suits me.’
She gave a soft snort and turned away from him, ready to start walking again. He touched her arm to stop her and she felt herself flinch.
‘You know, it’s not a crime to let people be nice to you.’
She focused her eyes towards the ground, afraid that under the bright sodium of the street light he would be able to see inside her. Would be able to see the truth: that Rosamund Bailey did not have many friends, certainly not any boyfriends. Her few short-lived flings had all ended due to some version of the same reason: that she was too shouty, too angry, too much, and as a result she had built a wall so thick around herself that it was almost impenetrable.
‘Thank you for tonight. I didn’t really want to be alone on my first night in London.’
‘What are friends for?’ he said as he walked her to the door.
‘Goodbye, Dominic,’ she said, folding her arms in front of her.
‘Good night, Ros.’ He smiled, then turned back towards his car.
She watched him go, his walk turning into a trot, the tails of his Crombie flapping in the wind, and when he didn’t look back, she felt a sense of panic in the pit of her stomach, a sickening, thudding realisation that she might never see him again unless she did something that very second.
‘Another night out?’ she shouted suddenly after him.
He turned back, and she could just see his face, smiling in the dark.
‘What did you say?’ he yelled, his words echoing in the space between them.
‘What are friends for? They’re there for more nights out,’ she said, her heart hammering.
‘What did you have in mind?’ he said, moving a few steps back towards her.
‘How about the Rosamund Bailey guided blue plaque walk on Sunday?’
‘You’re on,’ he shouted, giving her a thumbs-up.
‘Excellent,’ she whispered, and let herself into the house.
Chapter Ten
‘Remind me who these people are again,’ said Ros, looking up at the tall white stuccoed house in front of them, and smoothing down the red cocktail dress that she had borrowed from Sam.
‘Friends from university and assorted others,’ replied Dominic, tucking a bottle of champagne under his arm as he trotted up the stone steps towards the front door.
‘Rabid Tories, you mean,’ muttered Ros, wishing she weren’t meeting all of Dominic’s friends in one intimidating go.
Dominic paused before he rang the doorbell.