Carrying a plastic box heavy with her year sevens’ English books, Jenny Jacobs trudges out of the tube station into the dark December evening.

At the pedestrian crossing, she watches a gaggle of girls scuttle into Eclipse and feels a slap of envy. Friday night and it seems like a lifetime ago since she went to a bar or club. In fact, aside from the weekend that her parents came to visit, she’s spent every evening working late or home alone in the flat. Hardly the life she’d imagined she’d have here in London. She’d had such high hopes.

As she crosses the road, a drop of rain falls on her glasses and rolls onto her cheek.

When it begins to fall harder, she quickens her step as people veer into the shelter of doorways; following their lead, she ducks into the arch of a betting shop.

‘‘What you looking for?’’

Startled, she looks up to see a ravaged-faced woman in a grey puffer jacket.

‘‘I’ve got it all.’’ Her voice is a hiss. ‘‘What you looking for?’’

The hostility of London in contrast to sleepy Somerset is still a shock for Jenny and she shakes her head.

‘‘No, thank you,’’ she says politely, stepping back onto the pavement.

The rain is teeming down now, but standing in a doorway being offered drugs by strangers is even more depressing than watching TV on full volume to drown out the grunts and groans of her neighbours’ rampant sex.

Turning the corner of West Street, she’s passing the Red Lion pub when she feels an impact and the exercise books she’s been carrying are scattered on the pavement.

On instant reflex, she kneels down and hears a man’s voice beside her.

‘‘I am so sorry,’’ he’s saying. ‘’Let me help you.’

She turns to see that he’s older than her – mid-thirties perhaps – and even under the flickering streetlamp she can’t fail to notice that he’s good looking.

Their eyes meet and he smiles. ‘‘I wasn't looking where I was going.’’

‘‘Really?’’ Jenny replies. ‘’ You don’t say.’’

She hopes that her voice is a school stern, but really she couldn’t be happier that her predictable evening has been interrupted.

With all the books back in the box, the two of them stand up, his eyes fixed on her in a way that almost makes her blush. How long has it been since a man looked at her like this?

He nods behind him to the pub. ‘‘Can I buy you a drink to say ‘sorry’?’’

Play it cool, she thinks. Play it cool.

She shrugs. ‘‘You don’t have to.’’

'’But I want to.’’

He holds the door open for her and his eyes drop momentarily to her chest.

Passing him, she glances down to see that he’s wearing a wedding ring.

She’s tempted to say, ‘’And what would your wife think about that?’’

But that’s what the old Jenny would have said.

And the old Jenny never had any fun...