“I wonder where he’s going?” Emma muses, peeking over her newspaper at the young man wearing a white T-shirt.

He catches her glance. Emma looks away. “Nice face,” she thinks. “ Sensitive.”

Earlier, as the train pulled away from Paddington Station, Emma, pushing through the throng, had managed to find a single seat opposite her handsome fellow passenger.

Now they were leaving Swindon, the train compartment not so crowded and, facinated, she watched his long, slender fingers work nimbly at a Game Boy.

As if aware of her scrutiny, he glances up. Gives her a quick smile. Then turns his head to look out of the window, sunlight almost whitening his longish blonde hair.

“Nice eyes,” she considers, pretending disinterest. “Lovely mouth.” She blushes and tries to read her newspaper.

His knee presses against hers under the table between them. He apologies. Emma says it’s okay but thinks, “He’s trying to get my attention.” She smiles, wishing he’d start a conversation.

Later, the young man looks sideways and asks in a quiet voice, ‘Is that your scarf on the floor?’

Emma reaches for it. ‘Yes. Thank you.’ She picks it up and stuffs it into her handbag.

‘I hate the Severn Tunnel,’ he says as their train races into darkness. ‘To think we’re under the Severn Estuary. All that water above us.’

‘Claustrophobic,’ Emma agrees. Then asks, ‘Are you going to Cardiff?’

He shakes his head. ‘Newport.’

Emma feels slight disappointment. ‘I’ve a job interview.’

‘Good luck,’ he replies. ‘I’ve got some news I must break to my family.’

Emma’s interest perks up. ‘I hope it goes well.’

‘So do I.’ He shrugs.

Now the train is pulling into Newport Station. The young man rises, easing his tall slender frame out into the aisle. Looking up, Emma puts a hand over her mouth to smother a gasp.

‘Tell me honestly,’ he says, ‘Does my bum look big in this?’ He spreads his arms out, waiting for her answer.

Dumbstruck, Emma shakes her head, and he saunters off, a gold handbag slung over his shoulder. Blinking, Emma watches him alight onto the platform and move off on high heels, like a cat-walk model, towards the exit; a short, tight black skirt clinging onto his perfect, pert backside.