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‘I’m afraid I haven’t cleaned up,’ he said. ‘Not that there’s much to clean.’

‘Oh, you live up those stairs?’ she said, pointing at the rickety steel steps leading to the front door. ‘Have you ever tried sliding down the bannisters?’

‘Actually, no,’ Jacob said. ‘The snow hides that all the paint is flaking off. I’d probably get tetanus in my bum. Although you could probably sand them down if you really wanted to try. Here, let me help you up.’

He took her hand and led her up the stairs. At the top, she paused as he started to open the door.

‘You know what?’ she said. ‘This courtyard just needs a Christmas tree. Then it would look just as pretty as the one behind your aunt’s tearoom.’

‘You think so?’

‘Absolutely. All right, don’t keep me waiting. You’ve seen my place. Let’s have a look at yours.’

He paused. ‘Out of interest … how did you know where I live? Did my aunt tell you?’

She smiled and shook her head, as though holding onto a secret she was desperate to divulge.

‘Your mum,’ she said.

‘My mum?’

‘Yes. I just had a lovely afternoon with her.’

‘You did?’

‘There were a few things I was wondering about … but we don’t need to worry about that right now.’ She reached up and put her arms around his neck. ‘There doesn’t need to be a perfect time, does there?’ she said. ‘Here, at the top of these stairs, in the middle of a blizzard, it’s just about right enough, isn’t it?’

Jacob put his arms on her waist. His heart was hammering. ‘At the top of a rickety metal fire escape that could collapse at any moment … with my shoes and socks soaked … so cold I can barely feel my hands—’

‘Perfect.’ She closed her eyes, waiting. Jacob couldn’t let her wait any longer. He leaned forward, planting a delicate kiss on her lips.

They had beans on toast. Jacob managed to find an egg that was questionably still in date at the back of his fridge, so they added milk and a few herbs and scrambled it, eating half each. Charlotte seemed to find his tiny flat quaint, and liked that he didn’t have a TV, but lots of old paperbacks in a shelf behind the sofa.

‘Oh, I love this one!’ she said, tugging out a tattered copy of The Stand that more closely resembled a dead bird than a book.

‘You like Stephen King?’

Charlotte grinned. ‘I mean, once you’ve read the entire Pippy Longstocking series, you’ve got to move on to something, haven’t you?’

‘I didn’t mean that you weren’t into books … you just come across as a little more light-hearted.’

‘Looks can be deceiving,’ Charlotte said.

‘Except for me,’ Jacob said. ‘What you see is exactly what you get.’

Charlotte cocked her head at him, giving a little smile. ‘I like that,’ she said.

Jacob insisted on sleeping on the sofa, although Charlotte forced him into a game of rock, paper, scissors, which he won from best of five. When he woke the next morning, however, he found her, still fully clothed, nestled up against him. He put an arm around her shoulders, holding her close, breathing in the scent of her hair, until he abruptly sneezed, Charlotte woke, and they both ended up in a heap on the floor.

‘So … what’s for breakfast?’ Charlotte asked.

Jacob shrugged. ‘I usually pick up something from Pete in Sycamore Park, or wait until I get to work. Marjorie usually has something she wants me to road test before it goes on sale.’

‘Ooh, sounds good.’ Charlotte frowned. ‘I have to fix my car, though. The battery’s dead. Harry will be desperate to go out.’

‘Shall we walk over to your place? Or maybe take a bus?’

Charlotte pulled back the curtains and peered outside. ‘I don’t think many buses will be running today.’