Christmas Magic. Cathy Kelly

tanned hand and stuck them in my basket. I stuck them back on the rack with their friends.

      ‘Avocados are full of protein and their nutritious qualities outweigh their calorific content,’ he pointed out calmly, putting them back in my basket.

      ‘What are you telling me that for?’ I demanded, eyes glinting dangerously. ‘Are you telling me I’m big or something?’ The joke was going too far.

      ‘No, you’re just right.’

      I stuffed his bloody avocados at him crossly. ‘Yeah, and every actress in Hollywood would look better with another stone or two on.’

      ‘Probably,’ he said evenly.

      ‘Anyway, what are you doing in the vegetable section?’ I pointed accusingly at his basket where a head of lettuce and two giant cucumbers nestled in the middle of a large bunch of bananas, a honeydew melon, several lemons and a net of oranges. ‘You’ve got enough fruit and vegetables for a vegan orgy. Are you following me?’

      ‘Yes.’

      ‘Are you a friend of Lottie’s?’ I snapped.

      ‘Lottie? Who the hell is Lottie?’ he asked, his accent becoming even more pronounced.

      He couldn’t have faked that much surprise. Not unless he was a very good actor, and a very good actor would have been rehearsing for some play or other and wouldn’t have time to play games with Lottie.

      ‘You mean you’re not doing this for a joke?’ I asked in a less strident voice.

      His eyes, which were intelligent for such a handsome beefcakey type, sparkled. ‘You think I’m doing this for a joke? I’m not. I wanted to buy you a drink. If you’re not interested, say so. But I am.’

      I loved the way he said ‘interested’. Innerested.

      ‘I didn’t say that,’ I mumbled.