She had thought that was the end of it. Even though she began to watch out for him on her runs. Even though she made sure she always set off at the same time, to increase her chances of bumping into him. And even though she became acutely aware of how she looked when she ran, making an effort to keep her back straight and her head high, cursing herself when she stumbled. She would anticipate each sharp turn, wondering if she might see him on the track, and a frustrating week followed when all she saw was the empty route ahead of her.
Yet despite all her efforts to look her best, the next time she saw him she was wearing fancy dress. He had come into the Cosy Corner Cafe one lunchtime the week after they’d first met, while she was covering a lunch shift. It was a casual job she’d taken on over the past couple of summers which saw Susan Arnold ring her when she was short-staffed. The worst thing about it was the French maid’s uniform – the little white apron that tied around her waist and the old-fashioned frilly hat covering her hair – which on Sophia’s first visit she had pronounced ‘stripper with shower cap’, and fallen about laughing. Susan insisted it had to be worn, however, so the tourists would feel they were somewhere authentic – as though a visit to the Lake District was also a trip back in time to the generalised era called ‘quaint’. Since the tourism industry was their bread and butter, the locals would do almost anything to help it thrive, even though these sightseers sometimes seemed to possess brain cells akin to the local sheep population, always clogging up roads or getting themselves into entirely avoidable scrapes on the hillsides.
Georgia had glanced up from rearranging sandwiches when the cow bell jangled over the door, and the sight of Leo was so unexpected she didn’t place him straightaway – wearing jumper and jeans rather than T-shirt and running shorts. When it clicked she instinctively turned away and gripped the counter in front of the coffee machine. He couldn’t see her like this.
‘Hello?’ he said.
She was trapped. Slowly, she turned around.
‘A cheese roll to take away, please.’ He was inspecting the change in his hand and then pointed to the deli counter, and for a moment she thought she might get away with it if she kept quiet. She gripped the roll with a pair of tongs and slid it into a paper bag, setting it in front of him. But he looked up as he handed the money over, then he did a double take and his smile widened.
‘Hello again,’ he said. ‘How’s the running going?’
He had paid no attention to her costume, and she relaxed. ‘Good,’ she answered. ‘And what about you?’ She hesitated. ‘I haven’t seen you lately.’
He collected his roll from the counter. ‘No, I’ve found another route.’
‘Ah, that explains it, then.’ She turned away quickly in case her face displayed her disappointment, and pretended to busy herself wiping down chopping boards. She waited for the bells at the door to chime, to signal he was gone, but when they didn’t she slowly looked up again, to find him still there, still watching her, still smiling.
‘Would you like to come running with me one morning? It doesn’t seem right to keep such a beautiful place to myself.’
The question took her by surprise and she could feel herself blushing. He’s not asking you out. It’s only a run.
‘Okay, yes, that would be great. Fine. I’d love to.’ She stopped, fearing she was gabbling.
He kept smiling. Something inside her was fizzing, melting, she was finding it hard to stand still. She gripped the formica top to stop herself from swaying.
‘Great, I’ll meet you at Tarn Hows – do you know where that is?’
She laughed. ‘Everyone from round here knows Tarn Hows – it’s such a beautiful lake. I can see why you’re taken with it – the scenery is stunning, and the run is nice and flat too, which is pretty unusual here.’
He grinned back. ‘You’re right, it’s made a change from the woodland tracks. So, is tomorrow any good? I can pick you up if that helps?’
‘No, that’s okay, I can get there,’ she said quickly. The thought of him in the vicinity of the family had far too much potential for embarrassment. ‘I know where it is. I’ll meet you tomorrow – what time?’
‘Is half-past seven too early? In the car park?’
‘No, that’s good,’ she said, alarmed at a strange croak in her voice, but he didn’t seem to have noticed. Instead he had whipped out his phone.
‘What’s your number?’ He keyed in the digits as she recited them. ‘I’ll text you mine.’ He was moving away now. ‘So, I’ll see you tomorrow.’ He waved his brown paper bag at her as he opened the door.
She remembered the rest of that afternoon well. She had spent most of it slopping tea into saucers and asking people to repeat their orders. She had watched the clock, telling herself that in seventeen, sixteen, fifteen hours she would be running alongside Leo. And she had checked and rechecked the message that popped up on her phone just before closing time, which simply read, Here’s my number. See you tomorrow.