Oh no, oh no – perhaps she ought to feign she had something contagious? Because now he had come nearer, and put his hands to her arm and her back, and she could almost pick out the scent of his aftershave from here. So now the lightheadedness was not even a lie, because if she let the moment wash over her any more forcefully she fancied her knees would buckle under her.

So it was just as well he had led her to a chair. Callista sat, straight-backed, hoping having both her feet firmly on the floor would set her back down on earth. She imagined this was how other girls, fanciful ones, let themselves get carried away on the wings of charm and insincere attentions in the space of an evening. He did not seem insincere, but Callista hoped that he would do something thoughtless or inconsiderate soon enough, and make this easier for her. “Thank you,” Callista said anyway, because she was conditioned to politeness however uncomfortable she may feel. She wanted to press his hand gratefully as he took her glass, but she forced herself to resist, curling her fingers gently into her hand and dropping it into her lap.

“I’m sure I will be well again soon,” Callista heard herself say. To help her chances, she refused to quite meet his gaze this time. “Please do not – do not feel you must wait with me.”

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