(I was so happy to read the reviews this morning and see that you seemed happy with the direction I was taking these two. I felt really buoyed by the positive response, so much so that I wrote another chapter.)

It had taken me twenty minutes to walk home to Graham Terrace and I was no less flustered and perplexed by the time I let myself and in through the ugly front door. As was often the case these days, no one else was home. I was gasping for a cup of tea so I went straight to the kitchen; as much as Martin had informed me of its many virtues, I didn't enjoy the Japanese Green type that I'd tentatively sampled earlier, and I still maintain, despite his clear disapproval, that it needed milk and sugar. As I tossed the PG Tips into the pot, I couldn't help but wonder at his propensity for turning every conversation into a medical lecture. I suppose it was quite noble really but, to me, it just indicated that he really needed to unwind and perhaps put the textbooks away every now and again.

To be honest, helping Martin unwind had crossed my mind a couple of times during lunch. In my own childishly naive way, I suppose I'd always fancied him but as the afternoon progressed, I'd been a bit shaken to discover that I actually found him utterly magnetic. Now, as I lay on my bed, reliving every moment of significance over and over in my head, I had the sad realisation that I was still just a silly kid having a bit of a handsome, tall, brooding man fantasy.

Recalling my complete lack of sophistication in the restaurant made me flush with embarrassment. Of course, Martin had been kind and patient with me but, underneath, he must have been unimpressed by my lack of finesse. When I'd bitten into the little roll of rice, and the caviar had all spurted out on my hand, I swear he was horribly embarrassed when he'd looked up and caught me surreptitiously trying to lick it off my fingers. But all I'd thought about was that it was caviar. I'd never tried it before, I liked it, and it seemed a shame to waste it. Even though the expression on his face had been fleeting, I saw the disbelief and, as he had quickly looked away, I definitely sensed his discomfort.

I imagined the sort of people he would have in his circle of friends. Sophisticated and cultured definitely. Well educated of course; well travelled and worldly. The men would all be professionals, probably at the top of their respective fields, and the women would be stylish and expensively attired. And, as I realised with a sinking heart, they would all beautiful. As if to pour salt into my own wound, I made myself picture them together; Martin in a dinner jacket, a willowy blonde goddess on his arm. I didn't know much about his world but I did know that Holly had a very strong desire to be part of it and, if her ruthless and single-minded desire to snare herself an important husband was anything to go by, I was totally out of my depth.

I had some desire myself, I won't deny it but it was nothing to do with his job, or which part of town he lived in, or what school he'd gone to. His status didn't really matter to me at all but, to be honest, it wouldn't make any difference if I did dissect my feelings for him. We had nothing in common, our lives were poles apart, and I had nothing I could offer him that he couldn't find easily somewhere else. I closed my eyes and felt a wave of self pity come over me. It was a frustrating combination of dejection, and a profound sense of inferiority that might easily have turned to tears had I not been jarred back to reality by the slamming front door.

"Only me." I heard a voice call out, and to my relief it was Libby.

"Hiya!" I replied loudly, "I'm in here"

I heard her footsteps approaching and then she popped her head around the door.

"Nice lunch?" She asked with an enquiring smile.

I only hesitated for a split second but that was long enough. Before I could open my mouth, I saw her expression change and she stepped cautiously into the room, before folding her arms and taking up her familiar role of confessor, leaning contemplatively against the door frame.

"What happened?" She said with confusion in her voice. "I thought it was lunch with a venerable old aunt or something?"

I looked up at her, and grimaced.

"Yeah, well, it turned out to be the something, didn't it?" I said quietly.

She said nothing but continued to stare at me, and I swallowed hard.

"Libby, ummm, do you remember ages ago I told you about, you know, the Hopeless Crush?"

She nodded and I noticed her eyes widen. "Oh my god, Louisa, don't tell me he was in the restaurant?"

I frowned.

"Worse, actually. He was at our table."

"What?" She cried, breaking into nervous laughter and leaping across the room to throw herself down onto the bed, staring down at me incredulously

I sat up next to her and she must have recognised the expression on my face because she pulled me in for a hug.

"Sorry if this is, you know, a bit insensitive but you've got to tell me what happened." She said breathlessly into my ear.

I pulled away from her, stood up and, for some reason, closed the door. I didn't know where to start but, unfortunately, my delaying tactics did not fool my friend.

"He must be something special if he can keep having this affect on you." She said, holding my gaze. "Come on, what happened?"

I took a deep breath and sighed heavily.

"Well, umm, he's actually the nephew of the lady I met for lunch. I don't think either of us knew the other was going to be there to be honest. "

"Ohh. Awkward. " She said thoughtfully. "Was he...I mean, did he seem pleased to see you at all? What did he say?"

I smiled at her sadly, avoiding the temptation to bite my lip.

"I seem to have this habit of, you know, turning up and ruining the rare time he gets to spend with his aunt, and I did it again today. So, no, he wasn't pleased to see me. He seemed a bit horrified initially but, that's the thing, he's always really kind to me so he made an effort. You know, not to be cross."

Libby frowned, and patted the bed next to her, indicating that I should sit down. She shuffled backwards, leaned against the wall and stretched her legs out in front of her. I could see she was settling herself in for a therapy session, just as we'd done so many times before.

"Does this gentleman have a name?"

God help me, even saying it caught in my throat.

"Ummm. Martin."

"How old is he?"

"I'm not exactly sure. Twenty nine perhaps. He might even be thirty. I don't know."

"Nice." She said approvingly. "It's a good age. Generally old enough to know what they want. Single?"

I screwed up my face at her. Surely she didn't think I was carrying a torch for a married man?

"Are you having a laugh?" I croaked somewhat indignantly, before composing myself and adding quietly. "Yes, I think so. Well, not married at least."

I dreaded her next question because I knew what she'd ask and I already felt a strange anxiety about giving light and space to the secret I'd held so close to my chest for so long. Saying it out loud, exposing myself to my friend's honest observations seemed almost to cheapen the whole thing. But, conversely, in a way I almost felt relief in finally admitting the details to someone. And perhaps I needed to hear what she had to say, despite how harsh and humiliating it was bound to be. I braced myself.

"What does he do?" She asked in an attempt at nonchalance. "Is he a farmer too?"

I snorted with mirthless laughter.

"God, no." I said bleakly, and I looked up at her ruefully.

I swear she saw my hesitation as embarrassment, and her expression changed to one of concerned pity but she didn't speak and, after a few moments, the ridiculousness of my whole situation was exposed to her blistering blow torch of common sense.

"He's.. ummm, Martin's a doctor. Well, I'm pretty sure he's almost a surgeon actually."

I admit that, in my concerted efforts to move on with my life and focus on my course, I had avoided asking about him when I'd spoken to Mrs. Norton over the last few months. I was fairly sure though that if he'd finished his study she would have mentioned it. I looked up at Libby to gauge her reaction and she was staring back at me, her eyes wide and a cheeky smile playing around her mouth.

"Right." She said thoughtfully. "Well, firstly, don't tell our lovely leaseholder or she'll be whipping him out from under your nose before you can say 'Holly-Is-A-Desperate-Social-Climber'"

I laughed mirthlessly.

"He's not under my nose, Libs, and he's not likely to be, that's the bloody problem."

She frowned at me. "Because you think he doesn't like you?"

"Well, yes. I suppose." I said and I felt dismal again. "But mainly because he is so far out of my league really."

Libby's eyes narrowed.

"What?" She asked quietly.

I sighed.

"Well, you know." I said haltingly.

"No." She said firmly. "I don't. Explain it to me Louisa."

I bit my lip.

"It's just that he...umm...he's got this really professional demeanour. He's tall, sort of imposing. Confident...umm..Wears expensive suits. Ummm, perhaps a little bit arrogant, you know?" I mumbled uncomfortably.

Libby grinned.

"He sounds divine." She said with a twinkle in her eye. "And, he also just sounds like a typical surgeon to be honest. I still don't understand why you think he is out of your league though?"

I gazed back at her sadly but I couldn't think of anything else to tell her. It just seemed hopeless.

She sighed.

"Does he talk to you? What does he say?"

"To be honest, Martin's not really much of a conversationalist. But he did talk to me. We shared a shas..sas...sashimi platter and, as we were trying all the different sorts of fish, he...ummm...he was explaining to me what they were and how they'd been prepared."

One of Libby's eyebrows arched upwards.

"Right. I see. But you said he wasn't much of a conversationalist. He sounds like he did all talking and you just had to listen?"

"No, not at all!" I cried defensively, closing my eyes and remembering the calm gaze Martin had fixed on me as I'd enthusiastically sampled the various delicacies he'd chosen for us. "Like I said, we shared a platter and, after I'd tried something, he always wanted to know what I thought. Whether I'd enjoyed it. I'm sure he was actually interested because when I told him that I didn't really rate the sea urchins he even sort of smiled and said he'd make a note of that..."

I trailed off and looked at her helplessly. She was staring back at me in utter incredulity.

"Oh my god, Louisa, you know I love you dearly, but sometimes you are such a massive plonker."

"What? I told you he was always nice to me. It doesn't mean anything."

She looked unconvinced.

"Then what happened?"

"Ummm, nothing much. I talked to Mrs. Norton about the village, caught up with the gossip, you know. And then they went off in his car and I walked home."

"Who paid?"

"Umm, Martin did."

"Sweet of him." She said with a little Móna Lisa smile. "But I suppose if he's ordering platters of food to tempt you with, the least he can do is pay for it."

Of course, I knew him to be exceedingly generous to me previously but I couldn't tell Libby that. In fact, I couldn't think of anything further to say.

"So, no chance of seeing him again?" she asked cautiously

"Well, yes," I said sadly as the thought of having to banish Martin from my heart once again just seemed too disappointing for words. "I will need to see him again at some point. I'll need to get my watch back."

Libby had been gazing thoughtfully at her own reflection in the mirror but, suddenly, her head snapped around and she stared at me.

"Umm, what? Louisa why does he have your watch?" She asked, frowning at me.

I was taken aback. It hadn't seemed significant but there didn't seem any harm in telling her. After all, as I was getting ready earlier, I'd asked her about my choice of jewellery and whether the chunky silver watch that I wore like a locket looked better or worse with my outfit than my little fine gold necklace. Libby had vehemently chosen the locket and had even told me that it looked fabulous with the little dark blue sleeveless top I'd chosen to wear. So, it was down to her that I was even wearing it in the first place.

"He...he asked to have a look at it and then, well, then he offered to see if he could get it working for me again." i said uncomfortably.

Her mouth fell open and then, disconcertingly, she started to giggle. Her mirth turned into paroxysms of laughter which seemed to render her helpless, and she toppled over sideways onto the bed, and I watched her laugh until she almost cried, while I stared at her, wondering just what was so bloody hilarious.