Nervous about meeting Rosalind, unsure whether he wanted to, Michael waited outside Turnham Green station. He was early and checked his appearance in the shop window beside the station’s entrance. Turning, he saw Rosalind walking towards him, waving and smiling. When she reached Michael, she hugged him. It took him by surprise.

‘Hello, Michael! Am I late?’

‘Not at all. How are you?’

‘Happy to see you again. Shall we go?’ Rosalind linked her arm with Michael’s, and they entered the station booking hall.

They were going to the White Cross pub. Michael knew it well and thought its setting was suitably neutral. He bought their tickets, and they waited on the empty platform for the train to Richmond. Neither spoke as they stood side by side in the awkwardness of a first date. Rosalind still held Michael’s arm. It had been a long time since he’d been on a first date or any date, and he couldn’t think of what to say. He’d expected Rosalind to have said something by now. He remembered how chatty she’d been when he’d called her to arrange the evening. Now, he regretted calling her. On the opposite platform, a young couple sat on a bench and cuddled. They started kissing in the ongoing silence between Michael and Rosalind. He wondered if he ought to comment on their amorous behaviour. Rosalind nudged Michael when the couple’s canoodling became more passionate.

‘I’m not a prude, Michael, but I don’t think it’s appropriate to be doing that in public. Do you?’

Before Michael could reply, he saw the man slip his hand inside the young woman’s raincoat and start fondling her breasts. From the corner of his eye, Michael could see Rosalind. She was watching, open-mouthed, her face looking shocked. Michael heard Rosalind gasp as the young woman put her hand on the man’s crotch. The train to Richmond pulled into the station, and the lovers disappeared.

Michael and Rosalind waited as passengers disembarked, then they boarded the train. It was crowded, but they found two empty seats; the doors closed, and the train left the station. Michael lit a cigarette, relieved to leave the embarrassing scene, as he looked along the carriage full of passengers. He imagined some were returning home from work. A few passengers were reading an evening newspaper; Michael noticed others nodding off. There were no conversations—only the sound of the train speeding over the rails. Michael wondered what it was like to work in an office. How much of a routine there was, and how different it was from his job as a pastry chef.

He couldn’t imagine how office workers got through their day and was about to discover when Rosalind told him about her travel agency colleagues.

‘Audrey is pushy, always telling us how she’s the agent who completes her customers’ bookings quicker than the rest of us. It’s not true, and I can ignore that, but the worst thing about her is her personal hygiene.’

Michael saw a few passengers look up from their newspapers as Rosalind continued her criticisms of Audrey.

‘I know for a fact she doesn’t wash herself properly. She pongs, and everyone talks about it behind her back.’

Michael wished Rosalind would lower her voice. More passengers seated nearby looked at Rosalind as she went into more detail about Audrey’s lack of ablutions. Michael felt uncomfortable. He wasn’t someone who enjoyed or encouraged disclosing information about his life, opinions, and personal matters during journeys on public transport. The number of passengers listening to Rosalind’s revelations was growing. Michael noticed people looking at him as a party to Rosalind’s gossip. He thought they were waiting to hear his responses to Rosalind’s remarks. Michael hoped Rosalind would be quiet when the train stopped at Gunnersbury station. When passengers had disembarked and a few had boarded, the train continued its journey, and Rosalind continued her criticism of Audrey. It seemed to Michael that Rosalind wasn’t concerned with Michael’s thoughts about Audrey. She hadn’t asked his opinion but was airing her feelings, regardless of who was listening—and many passengers in their section of the carriage were. Michael only had a chance to speak at the train’s next stop at Kew Gardens. He asked Rosalind if she’d visited the botanic gardens. She said she hadn’t and told him it would be nice to see all the different flowers with Michael when the weather was warmer.

The train terminated at the next stop. Michael, relieved to leave the carriage, observed the other disembarking passengers at Richmond station. Now they knew, as Michael did, that Mrs. Mathews, Rosalind’s supervisor, told her she’d have a private word with Audrey.

‘I haven’t been here for ages,’ Rosalind said as they exited the station and walked to Water Lane. It was dusk when they entered the White Cross pub.

‘What would you like to drink, Rosalind?’

‘Babycham, please. I’m a bit of a stick in the mud, I’m afraid. When I like something, I stay with it. I’m not what you’d call adventurous.’

When he’d bought their drinks, Michael looked around the crowded bar for an unoccupied table.

‘Let’s sit outside, shall we, Michael? It’s not dark yet, and there’s a full moon. It’s romantic.’

The small courtyard had a few tables and no customers. There was a stiff breeze that made it difficult to relax. They looked at the Thames as it flowed east to its estuary. Michael couldn’t think of what to say. Rosalind didn’t seem to share Michael’s lack of conversation and spoke at length about her ambitions to have a large family once she was married. Nothing she said interested Michael or offered any openings for him to change the subject. During his second pint of Fuller’s London Pride, Michael accepted he’d mistaken Rosalind for someone with a modicum of interest in others.

No matter how often Michael tried to insert himself into Rosalind’s monologues, she’d interrupt him. When he introduced a different subject, she told Michael she hadn’t finished and continued with whatever uninteresting thing she was telling him. The only time Rosalind didn’t speak was when she sipped her Babycham. Michael seized the moment and told a joke. Rosalind took a few seconds after hearing the punch line, not appearing to understand it was the punch line, then slapped her thigh and let out her unusual laugh. The one that Michael found irritating at the Tabard on the evening they first met. He suggested they have another drink inside.

‘I liked you from the moment you first made me laugh. I love people who can make me laugh. How old are you, Michael?’

Michael was reminded of Rosalind’s direct way of asking a question. ‘I’m twenty-one. How old are you?’

‘I’ll be twenty-two next December. I’m dreading reaching thirty and not being married.’ Before Michael could speak, Rosalind continued.

‘Would you like to see me again?’

Michael said he would, only because he felt he should and couldn’t bring himself to tell Rosalind he’d prefer not to.

‘You don’t have a girlfriend, do you? Only, I wondered if you were seeing someone else.’

‘I’m not. I told you that the evening we met.’

‘I haven’t had a boyfriend for a long time. But I feel different about you.’

Rosalind was quiet for the first time since they stood in silence on the station platform, while the soft porn exhibition opposite was unfolding at the beginning of the evening. Michael asked if Rosalind had any plans for a summer holiday. She told him she always goes to the same place every year with her mum and dad. Michael could tell he was about to hear more and he wasn’t surprised as Rosalind complained that two weeks in Eastbourne were boring and there was nothing to do. For the sake of saying something, anything, Michael asked Rosalind, what did she do? She sipped her Coca-Cola and said she and her mum walked up and down the pier all day, while her dad sat on a folding stool at the end of the pier and fished.

‘He never catches anything. My mum laughs.’

Michael smoked another cigarette. He stopped listening when Rosalind started complaining about the new office apprentice.

‘Are you going anywhere interesting this summer, Michael?’

Michael had told no one about the trip, not even his parents. He knew that telling family and friends had to be done soon, even though the trip was four months away. Michael considered telling Rosalind. He didn’t care what she thought, but he decided telling someone of his overland adventure could be helpful. Only he and Jack knew Michael was going on the trip. He thought Rosalind might have something to say about him going away for months.

‘I’m still thinking about that,’ Michael said.

Rosalind seemed to lose interest in holidays and asked if Michael enjoyed going to the cinema.

‘It depends.’ He thought that sounded suitably non-committed and hoped it put an end to that topic of conversation.

‘Could we see a film, Michael? I’d like that.’

‘Yes, why not?’ Michael said although he knew why not. He was admitting to himself the date was a disaster.

‘I want to see Alfie. It’s showing now at the ABC in Ealing. Let’s see that.’

Michael had read a review of Alfie when he was on the train to meet Jack and hadn’t thought it was a film he’d enjoy.

‘Michael Caine’s in it. He reminds me of you.’

‘I’m not a cockney, Rosalind. And he’s got blonde hair.’

‘I mean his way of saying funny comments. You’re just the same.’

‘I’ll see you home, Rosalind.’

Rosalind gripped Michael’s arm as they left the White Cross. She didn’t let go until they’d arrived back at Turnham Green and were at her front door.

‘Thank you, Michael, for a lovely evening. Please call me soon.’

‘Yes, although I’ve got a lot of work on at the hotel, so I’m not sure when I’ll next be free.’

There was an awkward moment when Michael wasn’t sure whether to offer his hand for Rosalind to shake or just say goodnight and leave. She leaned into him, stood on tiptoe, and kissed his lips as he dithered.

‘Goodnight, Michael.’ ‘Goodnight, Rosalind.’

She put her key in the front door, opened it, and went inside. Before closing the door, she smiled at Michael and blew him a kiss.

Michael walked home, wondering why he’d ever thought Rosalind might be interesting.