‘That could be awkward. What with family … '
‘Oh I see. Right.'
‘There's a hotel down the road. The Valentine.'
‘Hmm, is that the four-star one I drove past on my way here? It might cost a bit more than I can afford. Is there a cheap B&B anywhere nearby?'
There was a cheap B&B, at the other end of the high street. It was run by the scariest person in the Cotswolds, a bossy, judgemental woman in her sixties called Beatrice who disapproved enormously of sex before marriage.
And Kevin's index finger was now idly stroking the inside of Patsy's wrist, sending mini-electricity zings shooting all the way up her arm.
‘What are you thinking?' His voice was low, his gaze fixed on hers.
‘There's a B&B, but it's not very nice,' Patsy fibbed. God, Beatrice would go ballistic if she knew she'd said that. ‘And the landlady is quite … ' she pulled a face, ‘strict.'
‘You mean she wouldn't approve of visitors?'
‘She definitely wouldn't approve of visitors.'
They were in a quiet corner of the pub. No one was watching them. Kevin leaned across the table, gently pulled her forward to meet him halfway, and kissed her on the mouth.
Oh wow, more zings, mega-zings. All I want for Christmas is yoooou.
Sitting back but keeping hold of her hand, Kevin said, ‘That isn't ideal, then. Maybe I should splash out on the hotel.' He smiled slowly and rubbed his fingers across the back of her knuckles. ‘You could stay with me, if you'd like to. What do you think, hmm?'
Patsy's mouth was dry. Who knew, maybe meeting Kevin today had been fate, designed to alter the course of her life. What if, twenty years from now, telling people the story of how they'd first got together became their well-honed party-piece?
She could almost hear the older version of Kevin saying the words: ‘And to think, if she hadn't said yes, we might never have seen each other again after that night. Imagine that!'
Seize the moment. Go on, do it. You can't let this chance slip by.
Patsy took a deep breath. ‘OK. I'd like that.'
Kevin broke into a smile. ‘That's good news. Because I don't much like staying in strange hotel rooms on my own.'
Using the payphone out in the corridor, they looked up the number of the Valentine in the Yellow Pages. Kevin called the hotel and booked a double room.
Next, Patsy phoned home and told her mother she'd be staying with a friend that night. Well, it wasn't a lie, was it?
Then they recorked the still almost-full bottle of red wine, slid it into Patsy's oversized shoulder bag and left the pub.
The walk along the high street was cold but completely magical. Snow tumbled out of the ink-black sky and multicoloured lights and decorated Christmas trees glittered in the windows of the shops and houses they passed. Their breath formed opaque clouds of condensation, and crisp, dry snow squeaked beneath their feet. Kevin was keeping his arm around her to make sure she didn't slip and fall. He was such a gentleman and he had such a nice smile. It felt like being in a film.
‘Just so you know.' Patsy felt the need to say it as they passed the newsagent's where she'd bought her copy of Cosmo. ‘I've never done this before. I mean, not on the first night. I'm not that kind of girl.'
‘I know.' Kevin paused to kiss her briefly, his nose cold against her cheek. ‘I can tell. But this is different. This is special.'
He could feel it too; it wasn't just her. Patsy's heart soared as she whispered, ‘I think you're right.'
At two o'clock in the morning, the sound of a toilet being flushed in the next room woke Patsy from sleep. For a split second she wondered where she was. Then, remembering, she smiled and snuggled closer to Kevin, who was lying on his side facing away from her.
They'd had such a wonderful evening. Any worries that she'd been making a mistake had been swept away. They'd had another glass of wine each, made love, then talked some more, sharing the rest of the bottle of Barolo, before making love again. He was such a genuinely nice person. He no longer seemed several years older than her; he was just … Kevin.
Kevin Lester.
Patsy Lester.
It sounded so right. Far better than Alex's surname. Much as she'd liked Alex, if they had ended up getting married she'd have been Patsy Bacon. Which, let's face it, wasn't ideal. So many puns, so little time …
Ah, but Patsy Lester was fine, it was a good name. And OK, maybe this was jumping the gun, but it wasn't as if anyone would ever know she'd been thinking it.
She ran her hand lightly over his back, not enough to wake him, just to feel the warmth of his skin. Here they were, naked together on the first night of their relationship. She was never going to forget-
A door slammed on the next floor, and Kevin's arm twitched. He lifted his head for a moment, then let it fall back on to the pillow. ‘Go back to bed,' he mumbled.
Patsy grinned in the darkness. People who talked in their sleep were always entertaining. When a few seconds had passed, she reached up behind her and knocked the wooden headboard with her knuckles.
Kevin let out a groan. ‘Tan, she's trying to get in … you sort it out … put her back to bed.'
Patsy stopped grinning. What?
Kevin shifted in his sleep and began to snore.
Seriously, what?
Because people sometimes talked rubbish when they were asleep, muttering about catching potatoes and flying with dragons, but Kevin's words were rather more prosaic than that.
Who was Tan?
And who did she need to put back to bed?
Oblivious to the snoring, Patsy lay on her back and stared up at the ceiling. OK, Tan could be his ex-girlfriend, someone with a small daughter. That was completely feasible.
Of course it was.
Wasn't it?
Her toes were so tense, they were in danger of seizing up with cramp. No way could she get back to sleep now she'd heard him say those things. At least not until she'd found out the meaning behind them.
Patsy eased herself away from Kevin's sleeping form and slid silently out of bed. She wrapped herself in one of the white towelling dressing gowns hanging up behind the door, then, finding Kevin's trousers thrown over the armchair by the window, stealthily removed his wallet from the back pocket.
Everything's going to be OK, everything's going to be OK. Just breathe …
Locking herself in the bathroom, Patsy glanced at her reflection in the mirror above the sink. Tousled bed-hair, slightly smudged make-up and anxious eyebrows.
Don't be anxious. There has to be a perfectly simple explanation for what you heard him say.
She perched on the edge of the bath, gazed at the brown leather wallet in her lap, then took a deep breath and opened it.
‘Wake up.'
‘Hhurrgh … '
‘Wake up.' Patsy was trembling with fury. She gave the double bed a kick and almost broke her toe.
‘Eh?' Opening his eyes and rolling over on to his back, Kevin blinked in sleepy confusion.
Except his name wasn't Kevin.
‘Wake up and answer the phone,' said Patsy. ‘Your wife wants to know why you haven't come home tonight.'
‘What?' That did the trick. He sat up, searched the room for the phone and saw it sitting silently on the bedside table with the receiver in place.
‘You seem to have stolen someone else's wallet.' Patsy held it up, still shaking. ‘Someone by the name of Keir.' She took out the Visa debit card and spun it across the bed at him. ‘Keir Bourne.' The MasterCard followed it, bouncing off his chest. ‘And guess what? He even looks like you.' She aimed a driving licence at his head, followed by a small colour photograph of him with a pretty red-haired woman and a girl with pigtails who looked to be about three or four years old. ‘And he has a wife and a child, imagine that! You bastard … '
‘OK, stop it. You had no right to go through my wallet.'
‘You had no right to tell me your name was Kevin Lester.' It was warm in the room, but Patsy's teeth were chattering violently. ‘You lied to me. You've been lying to me from the word go.'
‘Look, I'm married but it's a disaster. We're only staying together until Sasha's a bit older. As soon as she's settled at school we'll make the break … '
‘You don't live in Slough,' Patsy pointed out. ‘You live in Milton Keynes. It says so on your driver's licence.'
‘Look, I'm sorry.'
‘Who's Kevin Lester?'
He sighed. ‘Just someone I was friends with at school.'
‘Does mad Aunt Ethel even exist?' Patsy paused. ‘No, of course she doesn't. You made her up.'