She shook her head, and her long fair hair fell about her face. He reached out to brush it back and was struck by something in her look. It was vulnerable and nervous, and it startled him into drawing a sharp breath.

She heard the sound, and misunderstood it as one of dismay.

Sapphire, she thought. Say what he might, that ghost was still with them. He’d brushed back the hair and seen the wrong face.

‘You’re fooling yourself,’ she told him bitterly. ‘She’s not dead. She never will be.’

‘I wasn’t thinking of her-’

‘You were doing more than thinking. You were looking for her-here.’ She pointed to her face.

‘Polly, I-where are you going?’

To his disbelief she leapt to her feet and rushed out of the little coffee bar, leaving him staring after her, too surprised to move.

‘Get after her,’ the man at the counter said. ‘Pay me later.’

‘Thanks, Tino,’ he yelled, dashing out into the street and looking this way and that.

But she’d gone. In five seconds flat she’d managed to disappear.

Ruggiero ran, looking into the shops that were still open, but she wasn’t there. He turned and ran to the other end of the street, but again he was unlucky.

It was impossible, but she’d completely vanished.

He began to walk, twisting this way and that, exploring side streets, all of them full of song and laughter that seemed to mock his confusion. Then he remembered her cellphone and drew out his own, ready to dial her number.

But he didn’t know it. He nearly threw the phone away in disgust.

It was an hour before he walked despondently back to the coffee bar. She had probably returned home, and he would have to call and see if she was there, but there was just one last chance that she might have returned to the place where they’d started.

Even as he went in he knew it was a fruitless search. The bar was almost empty.

‘Here’s what I owe you,’ he said, giving some money to Tino.

Then he realised that Tino was winking, and jerking his head at the corner. Ruggiero looked and saw a young woman with fair hair cropped close, a sleek, elegant head. She turned and gave him an appraising look.

‘You-you-’ He despised himself for stammering, but he couldn’t help it.

She was an elfin creature-pretty, pert, with high cheekbones that he’d never noticed before and a neck that was almost swan-like. As he stood watching, struck to silence, she rose and sauntered past him to the door. One challenging glance over her shoulder, then she was gone.

A moment to get his breath and he was after her, catching her up in the street.

‘Where were you?’ he demanded, grasping her arm firmly. ‘No, don’t walk away.’

‘Let go of me.’

‘And risk you vanishing again? I don’t think so. How did you manage to vanish into thin air?’

‘I just went in there,’ she said, indicating a barber shop right next to the coffee bar. ‘It was the one place you never thought to look.’

‘But that’s a male barber’s.’

‘I know. They thought I was nuts, but I just said I wanted it off-all of it. Nothing fancy.’

‘But-is it you?’ he was peering at her.

‘Yes, it’s me,’ she said, emphasising the last word.

‘Do you mean,’ he asked in mounting outrage, ‘that I’ve been worried out of my mind about you and you’ve been having a haircut? Of all the crazy times to pick-’

‘It was the perfect time. I should have done it long ago. You as good as told me that tonight.’

‘I? I never said a word. Polly, have you been taking something? Because you’re talking gibberish.’

‘I’m talking about the way you looked at me tonight, trying to find Sapphire.’

He stared. ‘Why have you got to drag her into this?’

‘Because she’s there. I saw it in your face.’

‘If you did, you put her there yourself,’ he said, becoming really angry. ‘Why are you obsessed with her?’

‘I’m not. You’re the one who’s haunted.’

‘I told you-that’s done with.’

‘Yes, you keep telling me. Too often. Can you really dismiss a ghost that easily?’

‘I might if you’d let me.’

She stared, thunderstruck.

‘What?’ she asked in a whisper.

‘Don’t you know that? It’s a lot more complicated than you’ve realised.’

‘Is it me?’ she whispered. ‘Is that really what’s happening?’

‘You bring her into every conversation.’

‘Only because you-’

‘No, don’t push it onto me. I’ve fought my ghost, but yours is still there-and maybe she’s harder to fight because she’s been there all your life. All those comparisons you’ve told me about, with you always coming off worst. But why should you think like that? You were the brainy one, she needed you as much as you needed her. Who did who’s homework?’

‘But she was the one with the beauty and charm and-’

‘Give me patience!’ he groaned. ‘Polly, did anyone ever tell you that you’re an FCP?’

‘What on earth is an FCP?’

‘A Female Chauvinist Pig. You didn’t know there was such a thing, did you? Hah! At least I’ve managed to take you by surprise. If a man implied that a woman should be defined by her looks rather than her brains he’d be condemned up hill and down dale, and probably sued as well. But you’ve just said exactly that. Polly, it’s nonsense! You’re a wonderful person-bright, funny and beautiful.’

‘I’m not beau-’

‘Don’t say it,’ he warned, wagging a finger in mock threat. ‘Don’t say you’re not beautiful or I’ll get annoyed.’

‘Not in comparison to her-’

‘But why must you always compare yourself to her?’

He read the answer in her expression and said, almost violently, ‘She’s not here. There’s just you and me. I’m looking at you, and I tell you you’re gorgeous. Why do you look at me like that?’

‘Like what?’

‘With that disbelieving expression, as though I was crying to the moon. Oh, to hell with everything!’

He’d grasped her shoulders before she knew what he meant to do, and his lips were on hers before she could protest. His arms were like steel rivets about her, and his lips were fierce and angry as they moved over hers again and again. It was a kiss without tenderness. The kiss of a man tearing down a brick wall to make his point. And it left her physically excited as nothing in her life had ever done before.

She tried to get sufficiently free to embrace him back, but before she could manage it he released her suddenly and stepped well away from her with a growl of fury.

‘I’m sorry,’ he said hoarsely. ‘I’m sorry-I’m sorry. I-promised nothing like that would happen. I didn’t mean to break my word, but-’ He took a long, shaking breath. ‘I guess the truth is I’m a bit of a bully.’

‘A-a bully?’ she asked, trying not to let her voice shake as much as his own.

‘People have to see things my way, and if they don’t I’ll go to any lengths to make them. It’s not nice and it makes me behave badly, but do you get the point now?’

‘What-what point?’ she stammered, wondering which universe she’d stumbled into.

‘That you’re beautiful. Did I convince you of that before I forgot my manners?’

For a wild moment she was temped to say no, and let him make the point again, and perhaps again. But common sense, the quality that always seemed to ruin things, intervened.

‘I’m convinced,’ she said, trying to laugh and failing. ‘A practical demonstration is always useful.’

‘You’re angry with me.’

‘No, I’m not.’

‘You are. I can hear it in your voice-a terrible edge, as though you’re wondering how much more of me you can stand. But don’t worry. I’m on my best behaviour from now on.’

He neared her again, while still keeping a safe few inches between them, and she could sense that he was still trembling-almost as much as herself.

‘I never really thought you looked like her,’ he said, glancing at her shorn head. ‘Not after that first mistake. But now-I don’t know you at all.’

‘Let’s go from there.’

‘Where to?’

‘How about that meal you promised me? I’m starving.’

‘It’s not far away.’

In the next street they passed a jewellery shop, where something attracted him in the window. He drew her inside and made the proprietor show him the little brooch.

‘A buttercup,’ he said to Polly.

‘Well, I told you they were everywhere. Common as muck.’

‘Not this one. This is rare and valuable-perfect for you.’

Then Polly saw that the little flower was made of solid gold, and very expensive.

‘I can’t take this-’ she gasped.

‘You must. It might have been made for you.’

He pinned the brooch onto her dress and she realised that it did indeed look perfect, glowing under the lights as though it had were a glamorous flower instead of a prosaic one.

She twisted her head, trying to see her own shoulder, beaming with delight.

He led her to a tiny restaurant where the odours wafting out were delicious and the proprietor greeted him by name.

While they were eating maccheroni with Neapolitan ragù sauce Polly began to rub her neck self-consciously.

‘What is it?’ he asked.

‘I must look very weird.’

‘Not weird, but it’s a little unsettling. And that’s because you’re a combination of someone I know and someone I’ve never met before. I’m definitely nervous.’

‘So you should be,’ she teased. ‘I don’t know the new-comer myself, so she might spring some surprises on both of us.’

‘That’ll be nothing compared with what it’ll do to Brian.’

So absorbed was she in her new territory that she almost said, Who? But she recollected herself in time.

‘He’s used to my funny ways,’ she said vaguely.

‘Oh, he’s like that? Ready for anything? A man who can’t be surprised, dominant, bestriding the world?’

‘Stop it,’ she said, laughing.

‘You mean he’s not like that? No, on second thoughts I picture him with glasses and the start of a paunch.’