Claire stood just inside the doorway of the red phone box at the junction of Kewstoke Road and Crookes Lane. She looked around her at the stone houses up and down Kewstoke. There might be someone who knew her in one of those houses, but there might not be; Dad had said there'd been some families who'd moved out of the village in the last five years since she'd been gone. Still, she felt uncomfortable; if anyone overheard what she might say on the phone, she dreaded the thought of it getting back to her parents. She entered completely into the box, and positioned herself so she was facing more towards the trees lining this side of the street, instead of the houses. Best not to take any chances.

After dropping in her coins, she dialed the number Matt had given her for the barracks. Several rings went by unanswered, then someone picked up the phone. "Hello?" The owner of the voice sounded out of breath, as if they'd been running.

"Um, is Matt there? Matt Smith?" Claire asked the other person at the end of the connection.

There was a gasp and a gulp, as if that individual had got control of their breathing. "It's Matt, it's me," he answered.

"You okay? You don't sound okay," Claire worried.

"I was in my room; I almost didn't hear the phone. I'm the only one in the barracks today," he explained, sounding more like himself the longer he spoke. "Where are you?"

"In Kewstoke, calling from a phone box, a couple of blocks away from my parent's place," she answered.

"Why didn't you call from your parent's house?"

"Well, for starters, they don't know much about you, although I told my mum I'd met a new fellow this week. Didn't give her many details. Mostly because I have always hated to be probed by my family about any boys I meet," Claire related.

"Do you often go about meeting boys?" Since she couldn't see him, Claire wasn't sure if he was teasing her or not.

"No! I haven't dated anyone in ages. Been too busy," she insisted.

"I feel privileged, then. You took time out of your busy schedule to spend time with me." Now she was sure he was teasing.

"Oh, stop it! I'm calling to let you know I miss you and wish you were here so I could show you how lovely the walk by the sea is here. You can see across the Bristol Channel. On clear days you can almost spot Cardiff." In her head she was already picturing them walking along the shoreline, feeling the salt air breeze. In reality she shivered. "Wish I'd worn a warmer jumper, though; it's a bit chilly here next to the water."

"Take care of yourself. I need you to come back healthy. I don't particularly want to catch anything from you." That was definitely him having her on.

"You are a devil, aren't you? Just for that, I won't bring you back any of Kewstoke's famous toffey," she threatened.

"Is it any good?" He sounded genuinely interested.

"No, silly. Kewstoke isn't famous for anything, really, except caravans. People come down here in the summer to visit the beach. There's an inn, a tea shop, and a pub. Not much down here, really, just year-round residents and holiday makers. Why do you ask? Do you like sweets?"

"Yes, that's one thing I seem to have a weakness for. Biscuits, sweets, cake—anything sweet. I could eat a whole packet of Jammie Dodgers if I could find them. I don't know if you noticed, but I take five sugars in my tea."

"I did notice you were dunking your biscuit in your tea. Then perhaps I will find something to bring back for you."

"You're too kind. I just want you to come back." He sounded wistful, and lonesome. Claire's heart constricted.

"I'll be back. I'm leaving after noon tomorrow, Dad'll take me back to Bristol, then the train will carry me home to you," she assured him, half joking about her return.

"Claire." His voice suddenly got serious. "Really, I do miss you. Now that I've met you…got to know you…I've learned just how lonely I've been…how starved for some kind of human company. The man I was copied from…he used to say he was no good on his own. I'm like that too; I need someone to keep me sane." His voice dropped to almost a whisper. "I will be counting the minutes until you return."

Chills ran over Claire hearing that, and then she felt warm all over. This was the first time in her life that anyone had ever felt this way about her, and it was going straight into her veins like fire. It was incredible how much influence he had over her feelings, that something as soppy as what he'd just said could affect her that way. It's not like she hadn't had boyfriends before. There'd been a couple of dead-end relationships in Claire's past. She wasn't completely a novice in the field of love. But this encounter was light years in difference to what she'd experienced before. This felt…serious. It almost scared her.

Which was why she chose to give him a lighthearted response. "Don't worry, silly. I'll be back to bother and bewitch you soon enough. I'd better go now; it'll get dark soon and I don't fancy walking in this cold breeze back to my parent's place. You behave, and I'll see you tomorrow."

"I'll be waiting," he replied.

Claire hung up the phone, and dropped her forehead on the handle. Things were moving so fast, she felt she hadn't had time to really examine her feelings. Every time she tried she came up clueless as to why she was plunging into this so quickly. If only she could understand her own actions.

"It's like he's a magnet, and I feel drawn to him," she muttered, slouching against the phone box door. "It's not like he's handsome—his looks are almost the stuff of nightmares—but for some reason, I don't care. And it's not like he's charming; he's melancholy and sometimes gruff. He has a sense of humor, but it's not like I find him extremely funny. But there's something there—some indefinable pull that makes me want to find out what makes him tick."

She started up the hill in the gathering dusk, back to her parent's home. "My biggest problem now, however," she mused to herself, "is finding a packet of Jammie Dodgers large enough to bring back that will satisfy a sweet tooth as massive as his appears to be."