Pauline was a delight to talk to. The pub was not too loud and the music not too bad, so we stayed for a couple. We were both drinking slowly: it seemed she was enjoying my company as much as I was hers.

I watched her lips tell me that she was in the second year of a Ph.D at the university, something to do with optical physics. I watched her eyes glitter with enthusiasm about her subject and with pleasure as I took an interest. I only understood a little of what she was saying, but her animation drew me into her.

I spoke of my love of water, even of the Irwell, and my fascination of all things railway, of how I’d recently missed Tornado as it took the East Coast line from London to York (my usual disorganisation got me there on the wrong day). She laughed at that, eyes dancing, and took my hand in hers. “Let’s dance,” she said.

“I hope those have steel toe-caps.”
“You’ll be fine, H.”
She said my name. Barely able to stand after that, I drained my pint and let her lead the way to the night outside.