Page 54 of The Sunrise Sisterhood

I flicked my gaze from my hand to him and cocked an eyebrow ever so slightly.

His eyes widened. ‘I can’t believe I just said you’re welcome after giving you a third-degree burn on the back of your hand.’

‘Not quite third degree,’ I corrected him. ‘But my days as a model for Tiffany are over forever.’

‘Oh my God, please tell me you’re joking.’ He looked so horror-struck that I burst out laughing.

‘Joking.’

This was fun. Hold the front page. Steady, sensible Clare with a five-year plan for everything was having some spontaneous fun.

I did have fun sometimes, I wasn’t a total bore. Mum and I had had fun today. And I’d had fun two weeks ago, arranging all my jumpers in colour order in my wardrobe. But this sort of fun – having a laugh with a strange man in a hotel bar – well, that hadn’t happened in a while. Or possibly ever.

A waiter glided over at that moment and interrupted us with a respectful bow. ‘Are you going to be dining with us this evening?’

‘I am, yes,’ said my handsome first-aider. He looked at me. ‘Are you staying at the hotel too?’

My heart skipped. He was staying overnight, which meant he wasn’t local, which meant there’d be no chance of running into him at parents’ evening and having an awkward conversation about tonight. Hurrah.

I shook my head. ‘I’m a day guest at the spa. I was just grabbing a drink before heading off.’

His shoulders slumped. ‘So you’d been feeling all zen before some klutz doused you in boiling water?’

I grinned. ‘Pretty much.’

‘Then allow me to buy you dinner. I owe you that at the very least.’

I opened my mouth to make a half-hearted attempt to protest, but he held my gaze.

‘Please, you’d be doing me a favour, I never like eating alone.’

‘But I don’t even know your name,’ I said, coquettishly. Not sure if I’d ever even been coquettish before.

‘Adam,’ he supplied. ‘And you?’

At this point I’d usually stick my hand out to shake his and say, ‘Clare Marriott, two Rs, two Ts.’ In a confident, businesslike manner, as befitted a head teacher. (The head bit was new. I was in my first term and finding it thrilling and overwhelming, depending on what day it was.)

But I didn’t. In the first place, he was holding my hand, pressing ice cubes to my burn, so shaking at this point felt a bit pointless. But there was something else going on here. Something very un-Clare like. Maybe it was because I’d had the best massage of my life earlier this afternoon from a Hungarian lady called Bella and my body felt languid and floaty. Or maybe it was because of the way we were leaning towards each other, eyes locked as if there were no one here but us.

Or maybe it was simply that there was no food in my fridge and the idea of pasta with Marmite again wasn’t doing it for me. Whatever it was, I felt like stepping out of my life for a couple of hours and being whoever I wanted to be.

‘Pleased to meet you, Adam,’ I said, dropping my chin and looking up at him from under my lashes. ‘I’m … Saskia.’

‘Cool name.’

It was, I thought, pleased with my choice. I’d always slightly resented the ordinariness of Clare compared to my younger half-sister’s name. ‘Skye’ suggested someone free-spirited, someone who threw caution to the wind and lived in the moment. Clare was someone who religiously saved ten per cent of her monthly salary, froze her leftovers in Tupperware boxes and filled the kettle before going to bed to save time in the morning. I was normally a complete Clare.

The waiter coughed, making both of us jump. ‘Will that be two for dinner, sir?’

Adam raised his eyebrows enquiringly at me and I gave a slow single nod. A Saskia nod.

Because, of course, Saskia would say yes to an invitation like that.

Dinner was delicious.

‘I’ve really enjoyed this evening,’ I said, trying out a husky voice, ninety minutes later. ‘I’m glad you bumped into me.’

Our table for two was in prime position near the window. Night had fallen, but the outdoor lighting gave us a magical view across the lawn to the lake beyond. It was the most romantic setting I think I’d ever experienced.