Our night out was on a Thursday - the last in April. We had made the final arrangements by email, as I was working from home in the days immediately preceding. I was travelling over to meet Caitlin from my hotel, and as usual was running slightly behind schedule. She was working late in the office, which was a shame as the sun was beginning to set, and it was a lovely, golden evening. I called her mobile phone from outside Smollensky's to work out where to meet, and wasn't aware that someone else had called her at the same time, on the desk phone. She was expecting a call, and had answered the other phone, but had somehow answered her mobile too. I could hear her talking to someone else in the distance, before hanging up on me. It wasn't a very auspicious start and I felt as though it was my fault, although there was no real reason I should have. A minute later, she called me back and explained what had happened. We laughed, and my nervousness abated somewhat. After some debate, we decided to go to the Reebok bar, and that I would meet her outside her building.

I arrived there before she did. The glass walkway was warm, but I had butterflies and felt little shivers of anticipation, so I closely scrutinised a scrap of paper that was fixed to the wall, as though I needed some reason to be there. To this day, I have no idea what the paper said, but any observer would have thought that I should know every grain of pulp and toner that made up the document. Eventually she came, walking out through the heavy glass doors with a smile on her face that bordered on shy. "What's that you were reading?", she asked, and I mumbled, "Oh, just some... thing", my voice trailing off and my hand waving dismissively. I don't know how I looked to her, but I felt that I looked like a bright-eyed and eager puppy, hoping for a biscuit. I tried to appear calm and nonchalant. I'm not sure if it worked, but it didn't need to for long, as with a flourish of a piece of paper, she took up the conversation. The paper was a fine that she had received for travelling on an overground train without a ticket. We talked as we walked. Caitlin had thought that Oyster cards were valid on normal railways, and had received the fine when the ticket inspector was less than impressed with her story. She handed me the fine to keep as a souvenir.

The bar was full of people attending a fund-raising event, so we moved towards a quieter part of the room and found a table which was tucked away in the corner. We sat down, and started to chat. Actually, she did most of the talking initially, which from my point of view was great as I could just listen without scratching around for ideas on how to make my life sound less boring. Caitlin was very open about what had happened in her life so far - what had happened with her marriage, what had happened with her previous relationships, what her life had been like. We talked about our backgrounds, families, of life, love, fate, music, films and also a little about work. That was the easiest and most enjoyable conversation I remembered having for a long long time. She had a gift of being able to express difficult feelings and emotions with insight and ease. She was easy-going, and so made me feel relaxed and happy and alive. It felt so good just to listen, but I didn't feel as though I had any great thoughts to offer. Just after we had sat down, I told her, "I thought tonight would never happen", and she looked surprised. "Why?", she asked, but I didn't really have a good answer. The simple truth was that I didn't believe that someone as beautiful and popular as she would put herself out, would go somewhere specific where she wouldn't otherwise have gone, for married, old me.

Later, she was talking about how she didn't want to have to wait for ever for "Mr Right". Then she said "You never know - he could be in this room". At this point, I wasn't looking at her - I was staring straight ahead, but I could sense her looking at me (I don't really know if she was). I bated my breath as I sensed what she meant, and she confirmed it by saying, "It could be you". I didn't trust myself to say what I really felt - it was still only the first time we'd met in the evening for a drink, and in reality, we didn't know each other that well. It felt as though we were made for each other though, and more than anything I wished that I could just leave my existing life and start a new one, with Caitlin. It was too early to say things like that, of course. All I could do was continue staring ahead and say "I know".

Something that surprised me initially was her sensitivity to how it may look, the two of us out together. I hadn't really thought about it, but Caitlin had and wanted to keep it low key - we went to the bar in turns discreetly, and when we were about to leave, she asked me if I was OK with us leaving together, or if I wanted to stagger our exits. I was touched that she was so considerate. I know she was protecting her own reputation too, but it still impressed me. There was a gang of people from work in the bar, and we were avoiding them like the plague. The project was a regular gossip mill, and the rumours would have spread like wildfire if the wrong people had noticed the two of us (and there were plenty of the 'wrong' people). That night, and on many occasions since that we have met, her prudence has saved us both from being the centre of rumours into which my thoughtlessness might otherwise have led. It's yet another reason for me to admire her.

We strolled through the Canada Square shopping centre towards Smollensky's and All Bar One. As we made our way out of the shopping centre below the painfully vivid Reuters news screen, we passed Carluccio's on our left. It looked very warm and inviting, and the smell was making my mouth water. I noticed quite suddenly that I was hungry and that a pizza should hit the spot nicely, but Caitlin was on the phone so I couldn't say anything to her. Instead, I nodded towards the restaurant, making wild knife and fork gestures. She grinned and nodded, and so we headed in and I asked for a table for two.

I smile whenever I think of the time that followed; I smile, and feel a warm glow inside. It was a slow meal, not in the frustrating, teeth-gnashing "hurry up with the bill" sense, but in a luxurious, intimate, comforting and dreamy kind of way. Our waitress could quite clearly see that we were enjoying ourselves, and was, I think, deliberately giving us some space. Our table was in a warm and cozy spot, in the heart of the restaurant near the kitchen (which I faced). The lighting was low, and the candle in the center of our table burned brightly. We'd had a couple of drinks each, and just relaxed into each other's company, our faces close as we leaned over the table. The candle made her eyes sparkle, and I don't think either of us stopped smiling the whole time. We talked, smiled and laughed the evening away and I don't even remember the food. I remember that it I enjoyed it, but that is all. At one point, Caitlin produced a piece of paper from somewhere (it might have been a menu), and being a budding journalist and always having a pen to hand, started to doodle on it. Then she wrote on it, "I think you're great!" and pushed it across the table to me with a smile. A few months previously she had told me how she had a boyfriend and that she thought he was "great". I wasn't sure how much "great" meant to her, but that was enough for me for now.

I took the pen and paper from her, and struggled to think of something to write that wouldn't seem contrived. I was highly aware of the stereotypical image of the married man trying to get one of the girls from work into bed, and that is not me at all. Getting to know her was good enough for me, basking in the warmth of her smile and simply existing in the the same place as her for as long as I possibly could. But saying any of that on paper would have just looked like a line to get her to sleep with me, so I said that I was so happy I didn't know what to write. I felt really lame for saying that. A few weeks before, I had sent her a message on MSN telling her which of her attributes I liked the most, so I wrote it again on the paper. Elegant, intelligent, articulate, feminine, sexy and sensitive were among the adjectives on the list. Caitlin seemed slightly disbelieving, because she went through the list and asked me how each word applied to her, particularly "sensitive", by which she thought I meant "fragile", when I really meant "empathetic". She skipped "sexy" though. I should have added 'tactful' to the list.

One thing I clearly remember about the contents of the meal is the dessert wine. Caitlin saw another couple who were having it - it came with little biscuits which intrigued me, and so Caitlin insisted that we have it too, as it was supposedly very nice. The wine and biscuits arrived, and the wine was truly horrible. I didn't want to be the one to say so as Caitlin was obviously so fond of it, but a couple of sips in she declared it 'like petrol', and we collapsed laughing again. She turned her attention to the promotional blackboard. "They do breakfasts here. I didn't know that. We'll have to come for breakfast one day." We talked about meeting for breakfast regularly, even when she moved away (she was moving apartments to another part of London). We gazed and smiled at each other over the candle. I badly wanted to kiss her, but the candle would probably have set my tie on fire, and I didn't want to spoil things with fires or haste.

We were among the last to leave the restaurant that night. I was happier than I remembered ever being. As we left the restaurant, a cover version of Robbie Williams' song "Angels" was playing in the restaurant. It was in a European language that certainly wasn't English - I'd take a guess that it was Italian. Either way, when we left, Caitlin had started to sing "Angels" on the top of her voice. We entered the shopping centre again, and as we were in an enclosed space with other people, I thought she'd stop. She didn't though. She carried on, loudly and with a big smile on her face. She certainly wasn't embarrassed, and looked so happy that I couldn't help but grin. There is no happier sound than when Caitlin sings - I love it. Her voice wraps itself around my heart and lifts it up into the sky, taking me with it; there is no hope of being miserable with it. We turned a corner into the main walkway, and still she sang, looking laughingly sideways towards me now and again in a mischievous kind of way - she probably thought that it would make me uncomfortable, but she didn't care - she was too happy. I happily walked by her side, thinking that my heart would burst, as I have so many times when I'm with, or thinking of, Caitlin. There was nothing I could do to stop myself. Nothing. I reached out my right arm, gently but firmly pulled her to me, and kissed her. If I had considered it beforehand, I would have over-analysed whether or not it was the right time to do it, how I should approach it. But I didn't think - it wasn't planned - it was just something from the heart that overruled my head before it could even begin to think.

I'm lying in bed at the moment, tucked up snugly, the bed surrounded by my freezing cold hotel room. The heater is on its warmest setting and is blowing out cold air. The only warmth is coming through the quilt, from the bottom of my laptop as I write this. Caitlin:- I cannot tell you how much I wish I was back there in Carluccio's with you, just the two of us discovering each other in the warmth of the candlelight. It really was the best night of my life. And I can still smell your perfume from our meeting tonight. There is no-one on this earth that makes me happier than you. How I wish we could be together, you, me, us - just us, wherever in the world you want to be. I miss you so much when we're apart. I love you. I should tell you when we're together, but it doesn't feel right somehow. I think I'm just conscious that you don't want to say it back, or that you may be embarrassed. Or that I might sound stupid saying it. I love you, I love you, I love you. You are so special.

We kissed for what must have been two minutes or so. Tender, experimental kisses which grew a little more daring with each touch of our lips. I remember stroking her cheek with my fingers and thinking that she had the softest skin I had ever known. It's not that I go around feeling people's skin, you understand. But I have two beautiful, small children, and I think that Caitlin's skin is even softer than theirs.

Eventually, we broke the kiss, and walked on through the mall, this time in silence. Caitlin reached out and took my hand and we walked hand-in-hand towards the escalators near Waitrose. We were both happy, and I don't think either of us wanted to spoil anything by talking about it. I couldn't believe it - I had to keep glancing sideways at her, looking down at our joined hands to make sure it was real.

Potted Marriage

I am not used to romance. If you asked my wife, she would tell you that I'm simply not romantic at all. I was brought up in quite a strict church-going family, and the church made it quite clear that it was a foolish sin to take a girlfriend who was not in the church - a rule which my parents obediently enforced, much to my frustration. It's not that I was after all the girls when I was in school - in fact, I was probably a bit too busy for girls, at least in the early years. I was into electronics, computers, the county youth orchestra, and going out on my bike with my friends. But the girls I did like - nothing ever came of those, either because they didn't fancy me back, or because my parents forbade my seeing them. In fact, it's probably only luck, and not good management on the part of my parents, that I'm not gay. But, happily, I'm not.

I had love once, when I was around seventeen. Her name was Julia, she was in my church and I worshipped her. She said she loved me too, but finished with me after six months or so, without giving a reason. I was devastated, utterly desolate, as only a jilted teenager can be. After a month or so, Julia's best friend phoned and asked me out. I didn't have anything better to do, and she was quite attractive and we got on well, so I agreed. She and Julia were inseparable, and I thought that if I was dating her, I'd see Julia regularly again. It was not to be - they didn't speak again after that.

After the date, we went back to my room, which was packed with computer and music equipment, and a reasonably uncomfortable sofa. We sat side by side on it, and talked. The day was getting on, my dad had brought us cups of tea, and biscuits, and pieces of toast and it was becoming clear to me that something had to be done, or the day might never end. I knew from the way that she'd started stroking my leg that she wanted me to kiss her, but bizarrely for a teenage boy, I didn't particularly want to. Still, there was so much tension in the air that I gave in and kissed her. That is a potted example of one of my greatest failings. I hate tension; I hate the thought of other people feeling awkward if there's something I can do about it. In the end, I married her, not really wanting to, but not having the courage to upset her and our families. It wasn't all about the lack of courage - there was selfishness too. After Julia, I'd given up all hope of ever finding someone that I would love again. I didn't think that I could love again, and so I might as well marry someone that I at least knew, liked and got on with. Because I was already resigned to it, I wasn't desperately unhappy in marriage, but it certainly wasn't the greatest marriage ever (and it still isn't). In the main, I think I was just glad that someone was willing to have me, which I know is a pathetic statement to make. Until that first kiss with Caitlin, I hadn't been unfaithful to my wife in over ten years of marriage. I only write this in an attempt to convey that I am not some serial seducer (as some readers might assume), but instead am someone who was hurt previously, made a mistake, was willing to pay the price and after more than ten years was lucky enough to meet someone who would gloriously fill his life with more happiness than any religious conversion could. That seems like something of an over-statement, but Caitlin was, and still is chiefly what my thoughts revolve around when I have any free time.

Back to the Story

When we finally got to the escalator, Caitlin turned, and being both one step up from me and one step shorter than me, was the perfect height to be kissed. I hesitated, not knowing if she'd want to kiss me again. But she gently moved forwards, closed her eyes and let our lips touch. I wanted to close my eyes and enjoy it too, but had to keep at least one eye open to watch for the top of the escalator. We had to stop kissing at the top, when I hissed "turn around" before she fell over backwards.

It was quite a distance to her apartment from the shopping centre. It was a clear night, and Caitlin was shivering with the cold, so I took off my suit jacket and wrapped it around her. I didn't really feel the cold - we'd had a bottle of wine and I'd had a couple of beers. We walked hand-in-hand past silent, empty places that by day were full of busy people leading stressful lives. It was beautiful. We missed the warmth of Carluccio's, but it was beautiful all the same. At one point, Caitlin burst into song again. In fact she burst into a number of songs, but only one sticks in my mind - "Islands in the stream". "Run away with me, to another world, and we'll rely on each other, a-ha", she sang happily. I was happy too - deliriously so - and I really hoped she meant what she was singing, and that somehow the planets would line up, and fate would somehow make it possible for this wonderful fantasy to come true. But between bursts of song, and bits of conversation, she'd turn to me with a sad and slightly quizzical look on her face. I was a bit drunk, and I dare say too stupid (a common theme in our story, you'll see) to ask her what she was thinking. I did ask her later - a week later - what had been going through her mind when she looked at me like that, and she said simply that she was sad that we could never be together. I hate the thought that we can never be together. It is almost too much to hope for, but nothing is impossible. We never know what's around the corner.

I love holding Caitlin's hand. Holding hands is a very special thing, a mutual tenderness and trust. We held hands all the way back to her apartment block. When it was time to say goodbye, we kissed again, and again. Standing outside, kissing, shivering and laughing, I thought I was in heaven. It lasted for about forty minutes or more, and was a lovely lingering goodnight, after which I caught the DLR and smiled all the way back to the hotel. Sleep wouldn't come near me that night. I was confused by a sea of emotions - incredible happiness with Caitlin, anger with myself for being so useless and getting myself into a position where I was married to the wrong woman, grief that I was in a situation from which I couldn't escape, excitement at what the future might bring, and guilt at having all these feelings while my wife innocently looked after the family and the children slept soundly in their beds. I wished Caitlin was there with me. The thoughts raced through my mind until I thought my brain would boil. But the overriding emotion was excited happiness.

February was replaced by March, which dutifully gave way to April. Spring was here, although the evenings were still cold enough to freeze anyone who wasn't wearing a full set of winter clothes. The month began uneventfully enough, until the day came along whose events would mark a change in my outlook on life.

That day, I went to the office as usual and carried on with my daily routines. I was logged into MSN Messenger and chatting to some friends. I was leaving a little earlier than usual that day because I needed to catch the train home. It was a good hour's travel to Paddington station and a further three hours from there, so I liked to leave at four o'clock on a Friday. At around half-past three that day I was starting to think about packing up, but I suddenly noticed that Caitlin had signed into MSN. I don't think I'd actually ever seen her log on to MSN before. I sent a quick "Hello", but didn't get a reply, so I carried on working for a few minutes longer. Soon, the time came for me to go, so I typed a quick goodbye, and then started packing my things into my laptop bag. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw something moving on the laptop screen. It was Caitlin, replying to my message. "Hello! Are you still there?", she typed. I sat down, and confirmed that I was.

Caitlin wasn't feeling very happy. "I'm such a waste of space", she complained. "I've been working from home today, and haven't done a THING!". She went on to tell me how frustrated she was with her life - how she always ended up with the wrong men, how she always ate too much instead of working, how she didn't have anyone to go on holiday with; she summed it up with "life is shit". This wasn't like the Caitlin that I knew, and I tried to reassure her how great she was without telling her that I secretly worshipped her. "You could have anyone you want - honestly", I said. "Just pick the man you want and make it your mission to get him". Caitlin was glad to hear this I think, but didn't believe it. After a short spell telling me how difficult it was to meet new men, she typed "Couldn't you find me one?" I have to say I was a bit mortified at that. Did she think I had an 'eye' for men? Did she think I was gay? I didn't really think so, but I asked her anyway as I didn't know what else to say, and was relieved when she typed, "No, you misread me". I waited a while for the explanation, which soon came, and read, "I meant 'find me someone like you'". A line later: "who's not married!".

I was shocked. I could feel the blood running through my veins like electricity. I had no idea that she might really be attracted to me. My mind was a blur as I replied, although I can't honestly remember what I said to that. We continued chatting for a while, and during that time she said so many nice things to me that I was left in little doubt that she did actually like me in *that* way. I left the office two hours late. I didn't mind - I'd have stayed another four if she'd wanted me to. I grinned as I packed my laptop bag, picked up my case and left the building. I grinned all the way from the office to the tube station. While I was on the tube train I smiled, so as not to attract too much attention, although it was very hard not to break into a grin. In the train on the way home, I must have been one of the most infuriating travel companions with my smug, self-satisfied smirk. Now and again I couldn't resist a grin either, and I'm sure that several people wanted to either hit me or ask what was the secret of my happiness. I smiled right up the point where I put the key in the front door, when I stopped. If I came home from work very late and smiling, it was bound to look suspicious. And I suppose it was suspicious.

We chatted often on MSN after that, and each time I was a little worried that she'd suddenly find herself fed-up of me and wondering why she'd bothered talking to me in the first place. But we always made each other laugh and carried on chatting, meeting for the odd coffee and generally being good friends. One day, she was telling me that she'd been talking conspirationally to her mum, and when I asked what about, she said, "My going back to Australia". I think I tried to appear unsurprised, but I think I failed. My heart was racing - I thought she meant for good, so I was very glad to hear that it was just for a few weeks. We arranged to meet again for lunch shortly after that.

Lunch was great. It was a beautifully warm sunny day (in great contrast to the icy evenings) and Caitlin looked stunning. We sat outside, and had fun chatting and joking, and when I mentioned Australia, she said "Why don't you come with me?". My poor old heart raced again as I considered the possibility, but we both knew that it wouldn't happen. How could I explain a long trip to Australia to my wife? Still, I was very touched that she'd said it at all, and admired her all the more for being so forthright. We had a lovely lunch, and at the end when we'd walked up the steps away from the restaurant, we lingered over parting company. We were both trying to appear cool I think, but I was certainly struggling. As Caitlin waited to cross the road, I had to fight myself not to run over and hold her and kiss her. Something made me stop though, but looking back, I wish I had.

That afternoon, there was a very big meeting in Caitlin's building. We were all required to attend, and we crowded into a room which was really too small for the purpose. Caitlin was sitting in the row opposite mine - the other side of the aisle. We looked across at each other now and again, wanting to smile, but not wanting to attract attention. It was like being in school again, not wanting your friends to see who you fancied. Afterwards, we all gathered in the lift lobby, until one of the capacious lifts arrived. The nearest bunch of people squeezed in, and a few of my friends and I were left outside. Someone from inside the lift called, "There's room for one more - come on". Caitlin was already in the lift, and said to me cajolingly, "Come on - get in". I needed no third bidding. We stood very close in the lift, and I can honestly say that I had never had a greater urge to kiss someone in my life. As it was, I had to satisfy myself by whispering in her ear that I had lost my pass to get into the building. She smelled wonderful. I wanted to kiss her ear as I was whispering, but obviously couldn't in a lift full of people. We hadn't got to the kissing stage anyway - I didn't know if she would actually like me to kiss her.

Caitlin left the lift with a flood of other people - she was going back to her floor, and I back to my building. It wasn't long until she was off to Australia, and I was sad to see her go, but I still had something to be glad about and look forward to. We had arranged a night out.