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Although later that day after they had finished lunch and Joseph went to sit in the conservatory and have a little snooze Felicity told her mother what Mrs Cross had said and they both had a good laugh at the thought of Joseph Breen opening fire on Agnes Cross and then the conversation took on a more serious tone.
    ‘How are you going to manage Mum If he gets worse?’
    ‘I’ll manage somehow darling. I always do and it hasn’t been easy you know.’ Margaret Breen looked out at her beloved husband resting in his favourite wicker chair, his mop of grey hair swept sideways across his head trying hard not to reveal the shiny bald patch that grew slightly bigger each year. He was almost ten years her senior although until recently no one would have known because Joseph always looked so young. It was as though he had drunk from the fountain of youth. Even his hair had only just begun to turn grey in his late sixties. Although now it seemed that age was catching up with him fast. Felicity helped her m other to load the dishwas her and ran some water for the p ans and meat dish. They cleaned up and chatted about Joseph ; about Felicity and her work; her recent meeting and she told he r Mum about the collision with b lue eyes and their lunch date the following day.
    ‘You need to be more careful darling. I mean, you don’t know anything about this man and the fact that he has your f ilo fax…….. I mean……… he must have read it from cover to cover. Do you have anything personal in it? I mean he obviously has your phone number for a start. You don’t have your address written in it do you?’
    ‘Of course I do Mum; a nd a lot of personal nonsense which really doesn’t matter. And anyway, he seems like a nice chap. I mean he could have just deposited it in the nearest bin couldn’t he? He didn’t have to go to all this trouble to meet me and hand it back personally and anyway, he is kind of sexy.’
    ‘Oh Felicity do be careful.’
    ‘I will. I promise.’
     
    He was waiting for her at a little table in the window of the Bad Rock c afé the following lunch time. She could see him from across the street, the menu in his right hand, his left hand resting on her book which was on the table beside him. He was wearing the same long black raincoat he’d been wearing when she ’d fallen into him at the station. As she started across the street she could feel him watching her but she kept her eyes focused on the door tr ying desperately to think of their meeting as a business task and nothing more , yet with every step she became more and more nervous so by the time she reached it had to take a d eep breath to regain her composure.
    ‘Hi.’ Fel icity approached the table and b lue eyes stood up to greet her.
    ‘Hi….. Felicity.’
    ‘Call me Flick’.
    ‘Flick.’ He took her hand and just for a moment her knees began to feel weak as she took in those deep blue eyes once more.
    ‘David. David Wilson. We meet at last. Now then, before we order you don’t have any last minute trains to catch, or buses or such like?’ He gave her a wide smile and she noticed his teeth were as perfect as the rest of him.
    ‘No.’ she smiled back and the two relaxed a little. ‘Can I start by saying Thank You?’
    ‘There’s no need, really.’
    ‘But there i s………’ Felicity reached for the filo f ax. ‘……. for this, and for your help at the station. I would have missed my train that day if it hadn’t been for you and your help and then I would have jeopardised my job.’
    ‘Oh well in that case……….. The way I see it , how are you ever going to repay me?’
    ‘What?’ gasped Felicity. Cheeky. Blue eyes was cheeky. She liked that.
    ‘Let’s order shall we?’
    They ordered jacket potatoes with salad and soft drinks and chatted away as if they had been friends fore ver. He worked at the Nat West bank and was the front desk supervisor responsible for five others. He ha d been there for nine years. He’d