Jonathan and Maddy had arranged to meet outside the restaurant at 6pm. Her train was due to leave just after 9pm so it would give them a few solid hours for their catch up. Jonathan got there half an hour early and contemplated simply walking up and down the street to allay some of his nervous energy, but instead opted for a beer in a bar across the road, convinced that a drink would do a better job to quell his nerves than a walk. He tried to find a seat by the window so that he could watch for her arrival, but they were all full, so he stood at the bar instead and nursed his beer in contemplation of what was to come.

He was excited to see her, he couldn't deny that, but he was also apprehensive. Even only with emails, there was a spark back in his life that had been missing for a long time, and he didn't know what to make of it. He was glad to be back in touch, but the realisations he'd recently uncovered about his past feelings for her had shaken him to the core. He'd known they ran deep, but he'd managed to convince himself over the years that it had been stupid lust or sexual tension, which was easier to accept. The firm footing he had found himself on without the emotional imbalance of having Maddy in his life had been some form of relief for him, despite his misgivings over the circumstances of the end of their friendship. Or could he call it a relationship? He wondered if they would discuss the past, and whether he wanted to. He felt sick at the thought of what he'd put her through and what revelations she might bring with her perspective on their shared history.

He realised with a start that he'd been brooding over his beer for half an hour already and suddenly he was late, filling him with further anxiety. He didn't want her to think he wasn't going to turn up. He grabbed his jacket from the stool beside him and took a moment for a deep breath before venturing outside.

As his eyes adjusted from the dark bar to the sunlight, he spotted Maddy across the street, leaning back against the wall next to the restaurant's entrance door, looking around for him, her face breaking into a huge grin as she spotted him approaching.

Jonathan took her in; lighter brown hair with some golden highlights and a few more wrinkles but still unmistakeably the Maddy he knew and remembered. 'And loved,' a little voice in his head whispered to him, making him anxious again. She wore a black dress that stopped just past her knees, topped with a loose white linen shirt. A pair of low-heeled ankle boots and a cavernous tan shoulder bag completed the look. As he arrived in front of her in his black jeans and light blue shirt, he looked at her as her sharp eyes did the same in return, noting the grey hairs and lines around his eyes that signalled the years which had multiplied since they'd last been face to face.

A sense of comfort settled over him, which he hadn't expected at all. It felt like very little time had passed since they'd seen each other - 'like a comfy old sweatshirt', his traitorous brain reminded him, and he felt his face redden slightly at the memory of how those words had stung her many years before.

"What?" she asked, a corner of her mouth raised in amusement.

He shook his head a little as if to clear his thoughts, "It's strange, but not strange at all."

"Like a comfy old sweatshirt?" she queried lightly, then smiled more widely as he opened his mouth to answer but couldn't think of an appropriate response.

"Oh, come here," she said, and stepped up to him, pulling him into a warm hug, which he returned, happy to realise it wasn't as awkward as he'd envisaged.

They held each other for a long moment, savouring the feel of the other in their arms, and the familiarity which came with it.

"Well, you're a little more solid than you used to be," exclaimed Maddy as they parted.

"Are you calling me fat?" asked Jonathan, half incredulous and half amused.

"No! Not at all. You're just…I don't know…more grown into yourself. You look great."

"So do you," he offered in return, smiling softly as she looked completely taken aback at how genuinely he'd said it, before recovering her features quickly.

"Shall we go in?" she asked, inclining her head towards the entrance.

He let her go in first and followed behind, a faint memory of the first ever meal they'd had together in London swirling in his head.

The waitress found their booking and led them to a table by the far wall, placing two menus on the table and leaving them to settle in.

"How did you find this place?" she asked.

"My parents said it's the best Italian in the city. They come here a lot."

"Well, I'm starving so it'd better be good."

Maddy started scanning the menu and missed the affectionate look on Jonathan's face as he stopped himself from commenting that her love of food certainly hadn't changed, in case it was taken the wrong way. Then he realised just how much things must have changed for him not to happily lob an insult into her court, and it made him nervous again.

"Thanks for meeting me," he said.

"I couldn't pass up the opportunity for a free meal, could I?" she joked. "Assuming you're picking up the cheque…chivalry and all that?"

"That depends on how much you eat," he retorted, happy to get a dig in about her eating habits now that she had made the first move.

She looked mock offended, a glint in her eye. "As much as I can if it'll hit you in your dusty wallet."

The waitress came back to take their drinks orders. Jonathan opted for another beer while Maddy ordered a glass of Chardonnay, also asking for a couple of starters to be brought to their table while they decided what else to eat.

He explained that he'd arrived early and had already had a beer across the street.

"I've was nervous about seeing you" he admitted. "But you seem to be taking this all in your stride, like always."

"Are you joking?" she looked at him with wide eyes. "Jonathan. I'm terrified." She gave him a small smile before she continued, "I'm not looking forward to listening back to my interviews from today. It's going to be a load of gibberish; I couldn't concentrate at all."

"I'm glad it's not just me," he replied.

Their drinks arrived and they both took a moment to take a sip, unsure where to start their conversation.

Maddy took charge as always. "So, how's it been to spend all this time with your parents?"

"It's been good," he nodded. "I haven't spent this much time with them since I was a teenager, so it's nice to get to know them as adults. Although my Mum still prefers to treat me like I'm five sometimes."

"Yes, well, I'm sure you behave like it sometimes too."

"Ten minutes back in your company and you're already insulting me!"

"You wouldn't have it any other way, would you?" she smiled at him as he gave her a faux glare across the table, followed by one of his disarming smiles. "Look," she continued, "I don't know how to do this any more than you do. Taking the time to think about what I wanted to write to you made it easier, didn't it? It feels odd to sit here as if ten plus years hasn't passed us by, but I suppose it'll take us some time to get back into old rhythms."

"Or a few drinks?" he countered, raising his glass.

"Indeed." With that she also picked up her glass and took a huge gulp of wine.

The waitress arrived back by the side of their table to take their orders. Maddy went for a saltimbocca, and Jonathan decided on a butternut and sage risotto.

"Tell me about Sophie," said Jonathan, opting for something he assumed would be an easy conversation starter for Maddy, and where he wouldn't have to talk about his recent history.

Maddy's face lit up. "She's brilliant. She's growing up into such a lovely person. She's so smart and she does really well at school. And like I said she loves her sports. She's a proper little all-rounder. That's not to say she can't be trying at times, to say the least. But mostly she's kind and considerate and happy, which is all I can ask for. It helps when you can like your children as well as love them."

"She sounds great," said Jonathan with what Maddy read as a bit of a forlorn smile.

God, what do I sound like?" she said with a realisation that of course he didn't have any of his own. "I hate those people that bang on about their kids as if nothing else matters. Like you don't know what life is unless you have children. Which is absolute bollocks. If you ask me, those people didn't have much of a life before kids if that's their conclusion."

Jonathan couldn't deny that he sometimes felt a sinking sense of disappointment when someone talked about their children with such love, or he saw parents and kids having a happy time together, but he'd mostly reconciled it with himself in the years since meeting Polly and learning she didn't want children. He smiled over at Maddy in reassurance, "I asked you about her. If you weren't being a doting mum there would be something wrong. But it can't be easy doing it by yourself?" He was angling to be told if there was another man in Maddy's life but couldn't bring himself to ask directly. Not that it should matter, but their old friend jealousy still wanted to rear its ugly head after all these years.

Maddy being Maddy decided to confront the obvious-to-her underlying question immediately, "There's no-one else, if that's what you want to know." Following a weak protest from Jonathan, she continued on, "That's the thing with being a single parent without any other family; there's no time for much in my life outside of work and Sophie. Because I already have to be away occasionally with work, I don't want to spend any more time trying to meet someone who'll only likely disappoint me anyway."

Jonathan didn't quite know how to respond to that without being glib. "I'm sorry it didn't work out with her Dad."

"I'm not," replied Maddy. "He wasn't a good person, it turned out. We're better off without him."

"He's just…gone?" Jonathan said in disbelief; something he couldn't imagine doing himself. "Are you still in touch? Does he see her?"

Maddy sighed. "He's made it very clear he's not interested in being a father. He's not around. He doesn't pay any child support. But the door's open. I don't want to deprive Sophie of contact with him if that's what she wants as she gets older. I hope she won't because I don't want her to be hurt, and I can't trust him, but I have to give her the choice. It's what I would have wanted when I was younger."

"What would you have done?" asked Jonathan, thinking of Maddy's difficult childhood with a mother on the edge and no knowledge of who her dad was.

"I don't know," she shook her head, mulling over her answer. "It's impossible to say. I was angry at my Mum for not knowing my Dad, for not giving me the choice. And I blamed her. When I was really little I had these fantasies that my Dad would come and take us away to his mansion and we'd be a happy family together. Obviously that's completely ridiculous and as I got older I began to understand the reality of it. I think…no, I know that Sophie feels much more stable than I ever did, but I think it's better for her to be able to learn the truth of who he is than to paint a picture that isn't accurate, even if that might be painful."

"I'm not sure I would be so forgiving."

"Oh, I'm not forgiving. But I'm also not prepared to have her blame me for his failures. Not that I don't blame myself for not seeing who he really was sooner, but without him I wouldn't have her, and I wouldn't change that for the world."

She took a sip of wine and considered explaining more about her emotional state when she and Ben had met, but inevitably it all led back to London and the man sitting in front of her, and she wasn't prepared to open that can of worms; not yet at least.

Jonathan felt hopelessly ill-equipped to carry on the conversation, feeling desperately sad for Maddy that she had to deal with the guilt of not providing for her daughter what she'd so dearly wanted for herself when she was a child. And once again, he felt that hot shame and guilt for having been the cause of her leaving in the first place.

"I wish I'd been there for you," he said simply.

Maddy didn't know where to begin to unravel that sentence and held it safely in her brain to examine later. She had to swallow a lump in her throat before she simply said, "Thank you."

She recognised that the conversation was at an impasse while they were both unwilling to open up further, so as their food arrived, she asked Jonathan to tell her about some of the mysteries he'd solved after she'd left; a relatively safe area for both of them.

Glad to avoid the emotional wrecking ball that had reared its head, Jonathan instead regaled her of stories about tailor's dummies, disappearing bodies, gothic mansions, lottery numbers and porcelain monks and she was delighted to see him animated and passionate as he went through each case. He was somewhat put out to have Maddy figure out the solution on a couple of the puzzles before he had a chance to explain the big denouement, but he conceded internally that was his own fault for training her so well.

Almost subconsciously he avoided talking about Carla and Polly, although he realised as he spoke that he was barely mentioning their names, and he knew that Maddy would be noticing too. He made more mention of Joey, there having been nothing romantic between them, telling Maddy that she and the other younger woman would get on well if they were ever to meet.

After he'd finished his tale of the most recent mystery featuring a one-of-a-kind watch and the Tawny Owl pub, Maddy called over the waitress to order dessert, and their plates were cleared away.

She decided she'd had enough of him skirting around and asked him gently yet directly, "So what's the state of play with you and Polly? Is it definitely over? Or do you think there's a chance…?"

Jonathan sighed, visibly deflating.

"Sorry. If you don't want to…" she responded to his demeanour.

"No. It's fine. I…It's definitely over." He took a moment to compose his thoughts. "It's been over for a long time, I just couldn't see it while I was in it. I've been starting to realise how much I got swept along by her and sort of lost myself along the way. It was only a matter of time really."

Maddy's heart ached to see Jonathan so dejected, even as a little years-old piece of her was rejoicing with a victory dance, which she viciously squashed down as she reached for his hand across the table. "I'm so sorry you've been so hurt."

The concern he saw in her eyes almost broke him, but he gave her a small smile and replied, "I'm sorry you have too."

They shared a long look filled with unspoken history, until Maddy gave his hand a squeeze then pulled back to take a sip of wine and continued, "How do you feel now? In yourself, I mean."

"I know it's the right thing to do. I'm happier in myself already. It's a relief to be back at the mill and not to have to be in the City every day. But I don't know what to think about the future." Then trying to lighten the mood, "Back to being a recluse again, I suppose."

"Living alone concentrates the mind, right?" she laughed, echoing something he'd said to her back when they'd first met, and making his cheeks redden at the memory of his false assumption.

"And what about work?" Maddy continued.

"Adam's already made the offer, as you'd expect," he said as the ever-suffering ex-employee. "That would be the easiest thing for me to do, but I don't think going backwards to go forwards is sensible."

"Not sure what you're doing here with me then," Maddy said lightly, but with a hint of hurt in her voice.

"I didn't mean…" Jonathan stopped, remembering multiple occasions where she had taken things the wrong way or escalated conversations unnecessarily, and tried to figure out what to say without giving further offence.

She took a breath on seeing his bewildered face, memories making her own face redden with regret, then replied quietly, "I know. Sorry."

She couldn't help herself though, as his comment had raised a question that she wanted an answer to but couldn't find by herself. "Why are you here?"

He looked at her across the table, her face questioning yet vulnerable, and he could see in her eyes that she needed a proper answer. He mulled over what to say and how much to give. It was too soon to go into the whys and hows of what had happened all those years ago, and yet he wanted to be honest with her and let her know how much she meant to him.

"Because I missed you," he finally said.

As one corner of his mouth hitched into a smile and he held her gaze, she knew as much from his demeanour as his words that he was being completely sincere.

Maddy's heart skipped a beat as she contemplated how best to respond, but no words were forthcoming from her usually overworked motormouth, and a tear began to make its escape down her left cheek.

"Now look what you've done," she said accusingly with a sniff, bringing her napkin up to her eyes to stem the flow.

"You did ask," he retorted with an eye roll, maintaining his smile to retain the depth of what he'd said, but bringing them both back to more of an even keel. He decided to carry on the conversation in a similar but lighter vein, not allowing space for her to feel like she had to respond to what he'd said.

"Do you miss London?"

She looked a bit perplexed at the non-sequitur but was equally grateful for it. "Course I do. It's my home" she smiled. "There are some things about America that suit me really well though. Nobody here thinks I'm too loud. Or too much. And they are generally much more optimistic than us Brits." She took a moment to think some more. "But God, I miss proper crisps. And pubs. And the BBC. And sarcasm."

"And wind and rain and grey skies?" he added.

"Exactly," she said as she smiled up at the waitress who set her tiramisu in front of her and delivered Jonathan a black coffee.

"Have you been back?"

"A few times," she admitted, noticing the flicker of hurt that passed over his face knowing she'd been close enough to visit but never had. "I didn't know if I'd be welcome," she said with embarrassment and a nervous shrug, responding to his unspoken pain while looking down at her plate. "Or maybe I was just being a coward. It seemed…impossible."

She looked up to find he was staring at her, wondering whether to challenge her on what she'd said. If only she'd come back to visit him, talked to him, maybe they could have actually sorted things out and figured out where they stood with each other before it was too late. But he knew there was no point in trying to have that hypothetical discussion because there was no correct answer or solution, and it would just embroil them in more discussion about their past. He also had to remind himself that she thought he'd betrayed her with Carla and probably thought they'd been in a long relationship together, so her apprehension was completely valid. He was more than aware that they were currently balancing on a very fine tightrope and if either of them pushed too far, they wouldn't be able to move another step forwards. In the end he decided to aim for a truce and let it go for now. "You're probably right."

She tried to communicate her gratitude with her eyes, so thankful that he still wouldn't rise to anger as easily as she would.

"I miss the windmill," she said softly. "It's funny…" she continued at his querying expression, "…when I think about home one of the things I remember is the comfort and the peacefulness there." She gave him a small smile then continued. "And yes, I know, before you say it, whenever I was there I removed any peace and quiet that you had. And took away your comfort by stealing your bed."

He laughed. "I wasn't going to say that."

"But you were thinking it."

He conceded with a smirk and a tilt of his head and they shared a smile.

Jonathan's mind hadn't, in fact, gone for the easy punchline of her destroying his peace and quiet. Instead, he'd remembered those moments of cosy domesticity that had become so commonplace in their undefined relationship. While it was often true that Maddy blathered away without thinking about what she was saying, seemingly wanting to fill up any silence with some sort of noise, she was also a voracious reader, as evidenced by the hundreds of dog-eared books she had piled around her place and the fact that, along with a trusty chocolate bar, she always had a novel close to hand both in her bag and even in the car's glove compartment. They'd spent many evenings and also a fair few hungover mornings curled up at either end of his sofa, cups of tea balanced nearby, Maddy with her head in a book and a blanket on her lap, and Jonathan researching something for a new illusion. Occasionally one of them would comment on something they were reading but in the main they sat in companionable silence, happy and content in each other's orbit. Despite having mostly successfully managed to shift thoughts of Maddy into a locked room in his brain whilst he was with Polly, moving back to the windmill had nudged that door and its rusty hinges open again, and he'd remembered those moments as some of his happiest times there. While he wasn't remotely able to entertain telling her that right now, he was glad that she thought of them as fondly as he did.

The remainder of the meal passed easily with reminisces about some of their mysteries and catching up on old friends and acquaintances, and they left the restaurant – Jonathan having picked up the bill – to find a taxi to take Maddy to the train station.

As the driver pulled up alongside them, she turned to him. "Thank you," she said with sincerity. "My treat next time." She took a long look at him and lifted her hand to give his arm a squeeze. "Bye then."

"Bye," was all he could say, emotions overwhelming him as he felt the fear of her leaving him once more, not sure when or if he'd see her again. He gained enough sense to lean across and give her a kiss on the cheek before she reached for the taxi door.

Then his brain caught up with her words. "Next time?" he echoed as she closed the door, feeling a massive urge to run after the taxi as it drove off down the street.

He saw the car window roll down and Maddy's head popped out to look back at him, "I'll email you," she yelled. "See you soon." He didn't see her lean back in and fall against the seat, raise her hand up to her cheek and softly say to herself, "Oh. Shit."