"You left it in the lift," he said. "May I sit down?"

His voice was soft. Cultivated. What could I say? The tables were all pretty full so I nodded. He began to eat. I'd always thought he picked at his food. But as I watched, I noticed that he selected small pieces, speared them and moved them carefully to his mouth.

"Have you been there?"

"Been where?" I was totally dazed. From dropping my book and banging my head and everything.

"Australia, New Zealand."

I stared at him and thought again of what Mark had said about me reminding him of someone. An Australian? Maybe an ex-girlfriend or wife?

"Not such a strange question," he said. "You're old enough to have travelled there. And Katherine Mansfield, Janet Frame, are most likely in the book."

His smile crinkled up his eyes.

"No, I haven't and yes, they are," I said.

That's how it started. He asked me a question, nodded when I spoke and then asked another. I was off, talking about reading, books and all that stuff I love.

Days later Malcolm passed our table with his tray and spontaneously I said a seat was free. Mark stared at me and I felt a rush of heat to my cheeks.

After that, Malcolm often sat with us and he and I discussed a lot of things. We spoke a little about ourselves too. I told him how Mom had brought me up on her own at the start of the Hippie Era. He said he had married during that time but divorced a few

years later. Mark asked me how come Malcolm and I always had so much to talk about.

"He's easy to talk to. And he reads a lot."

"You two got so much to say, I don't get a chance to open my mouth all lunch-time."

"You do. You shove food in."

One lunchtime Malcom asked me if I'd like to go to a reading with him.

"Um. Don't know."

"Amelia Turner. Shortlisted for the Booker Prize last year."

I wanted very much to go. But although I no longer thought Malcolm quite so weird, I wasn't sure if I wanted to go out in his company.

"Afterwards, I'll cook us curry. Do you like it? "

"You left it in the lift," he said. "May I sit down?"

His voice was soft. Cultivated. What could I say? The tables were all pretty full so I nodded. He began to eat. I'd always thought he picked at his food. But as I watched, I noticed that he selected small pieces, speared them and moved them carefully to his mouth.

"Have you been there?"

"Been where?" I was totally dazed. From dropping my book and banging my head and everything.

"Australia, New Zealand."

I stared at him and thought again of what Mark had said about me reminding him of someone. An Australian? Maybe an ex-girlfriend or wife?

"Not such a strange question," he said. "You're old enough to have travelled there. And Katherine Mansfield, Janet Frame, are most likely in the book."

His smile crinkled up his eyes.

"No, I haven't and yes, they are," I said.

That's how it started. He asked me a question, nodded when I spoke and then asked another. I was off, talking about reading, books and all that stuff I love.

Days later Malcolm passed our table with his tray and spontaneously I said a seat was free. Mark stared at me and I felt a rush of heat to my cheeks.

After that, Malcolm often sat with us and he and I discussed a lot of things. We spoke a little about ourselves too. I told him how Mom had brought me up on her own at the start of the Hippie Era. He said he had married during that time but divorced a few

years later. Mark asked me how come Malcolm and I always had so much to talk about.

"He's easy to talk to. And he reads a lot."

"You two got so much to say, I don't get a chance to open my mouth all lunch-time."

"You do. You shove food in."

One lunchtime Malcom asked me if I'd like to go to a reading with him.

"Um. Don't know."

"Amelia Turner. Shortlisted for the Booker Prize last year."

I wanted very much to go. But although I no longer thought Malcolm quite so weird, I wasn't sure if I wanted to go out in his company.

"Afterwards, I'll cook us curry. Do you like it? "