Back at the table, I bring up the subject of her speech again. I'm a little bit surprised to see Diana fidget uncomfortably. She looks at me with a curious expression in her eyes, but I find it difficult to believe the problem can be nerves. 'Don't tell me you're nervous, Diana? About speaking in public, I mean. You're a lawyer, for Heaven's sake.'

She sips wine and bobs her head from side to side. 'Well, no. Not really. You're right, I shouldn't have any problem with getting up and speaking. It's what will be coming out of my mouth that concerns me.'

It must be unusual for Diana not to know what she's going to say to a roomful of people, what she is supposed to say to them, indeed. I think for a moment. 'Why do you think they asked you?'

I mean the question as an innocent, straightforward enquiry, so I'm shocked to see her deflate in front of my eyes. Her shoulders sag and she sighs heavily. 'Fuck knows, Fiona.'

I would never have expected Diana could react in such a way. The way she just crumples alarms me. It's not very nice, seeing someone so normally confident – arrogant, even – expose themselves as being at such a loss. It's difficult to see. But, at the same time, it is very touching, as any hint of weakness in an overwhelmingly strong person always is.

I reach over and touch her hand. 'Sorry. I didn't mean it like that.' I nudge her hand away from her glass with my fingers and hold it in mine for a few moments. 'Come on. They'll have a very good reason for asking you.' I smile at her. Diana's fingers are soft under mine, and it's an interesting feeling to hold her hand like that, even for a few seconds. I like the contact, the feel of her skin on mine, of course. But I like the emotional contact the gesture gives us, too. Unable to stop myself, I stroke her fingers with the tip of mine, focussing just for a second on nothing but the way her skin looks and feels. She has nice hands.

She keeps her hand where it is and lets me stroke it. When I glance at her, she's looking fixedly at my fingers. The quiet gentleness of the moment thrills me. I refocus on what we were talking about and sip cider with my free hand. Then I say softly. 'We just need to work out what it is, this reason.'

We let our hands drift slowly apart, and both sit back in our seats. She shakes her head, as if shaking off the doubts, and maybe the little moment of tenderness we've just shared, and stares into space for a moment or two. I watch her quietly, not wanting to break her train of thought.

She asks me who were the speakers when I was a student, and I tell her the name of the novelist who was at the one dinner I attended. She nods and asks about the others, and I say I think the ones I missed were some sort of business leader and a high-ranking civil servant. We talk about the dinner as an event in general for a bit, what it was like in her day, its place in the life of the college, how it's used to showcase the college living up to its aim of producing confident and successful women. After a pause, Diana thinks for a moment again, then says, 'Well, it's obvious why they asked me, in one way.'

'You're successful in your field.'

She nods. 'I believe, though I've never actually checked, that when I got this job I was one of the youngest women in the country to be appointed at that level in business. As a lawyer, I mean.'

She says it very matter-of-factly, but I'm impressed. 'Really? God. Well done.' I realise that sounds silly. 'Sorry, I mean, that's quite something.'

She grins. 'Thanks. It was nine years ago, though.' I put my head on one side and look at her for a moment, until she asks, 'What?'

'Just wondering. How old were you then, Diana?'

'Thirty-eight. Just.' She smiles. 'It was about two weeks after my birthday, as it happens.'

I work her age out, but don't mention it, but she knows that's what I'm doing. She stays quiet. I sip cider, then say, 'There you are, then. You're not just successful, you're remarkably successful.' I lean forward and tap the table between us, and wonder if it's wrong of me to find her now even sexier than before. I've always been attracted to dominant older women with strong personalities, and Diana is certainly all that. But the focus and ambition and talent she would have needed to get where she is now, that's quite sexy too. 'You're a leader, a role model. More than that, you're a mould-breaker, a smasher of the glass ceiling. An example to the rest of us. An inspiration.' I sit back and cross my legs. 'Exactly the kind of alumna college is proud of. No wonder they asked you.'

She smiles carefully. 'I suppose, when one is in the middle of it, one doesn't always see things like that. I was aware of getting to the top, but not of what that might signify. Or what effect it might have on other people.' She smiles to herself and sits back and thinks. 'I've worked bloody hard for it, mind you. But I suppose I have achieved quite a lot in a quite a short time, haven't I?'

'Absolutely.' I pause for a moment and think back. 'Nine years ago, I was just starting to study for my GCSEs.'

She laughs and runs a hand over her hair quickly. 'Thanks for that, Fiona. That suddenly makes me feel old again.'

'Rubbish. Forty-seven isn't old. Give it three years, then you'll be old.'

She grins and wags her finger. 'Aha. Three and a half years, actually. I'm still forty-six, for another couple of months.'

I reach over and squeeze her hand playfully. 'So that means, for a few weeks, you're exactly twice my age.'

'How nice for me.' She lets me continue to hold her hand.

I giggle. 'Sorry. I doesn't mean anything. It's just one of those thoughts that you have sometimes.'

She thinks for a bit. 'So, Fiona. Twenty-three is a quite unusual age for a graduate. Most of your cohort are nearer twenty-one.'

'Twenty-four next month,' I say. 'Don't forget, I did a language so had a year abroad. And a gap year beforehand. Anyway, are you calling me old, now?'

'Yes.' She grins and takes her hand out of mine. She pulls a food menu out of the little holder thing and glances at it. 'Are you hungry?'

'A bit.' I watch her face carefully, wondering what she'll think of the food, but she remains expressionless. 'Um, the cheesy chips are good.'

'Cheesy chips. I haven't had them in years.' She smiles and pushes a fiver across the table. 'Good. Go and get us a bowl of them, then.' She looks at our glasses. 'And it's your round. Then you can tell me what you did with yourself on your year abroad.'

***

Diana listens with interest as I tell her about my time abroad: the gap year work as a chambermaid/cleaner/waitress/receptionist in a small hotel in a pretty but rather overlooked town in southern Germany, and the year out of my degree that I spent working for the tourist board of the same town. 'You wouldn't believe what some people leave behind in hotel rooms,' I tell her. 'Or the state they leave them in sometimes.'

'I can imagine.' Diana grins wickedly. 'What was the worst thing you had to deal with?'

Our chips arrive. 'I'm not going to tell you, while we're eating.' I lean in and drop my voice. 'I did once find a sex toy, though.' I mime its shape and length quickly.

Diana's eyebrow lifts and she smirks. 'Really? Someone was having fun, then.' She forks a chip. 'Did you manage to reunite it with its owner?'

'Of course not, they'd long gone.' I glance around instinctively, even though the event was five years ago in a different country and I knew it'd never catch up with me. 'No. I kept it.' I grin. 'It came in useful.'

Diana laughs. 'I'm sure it did.'

***

We talk about living abroad generally, about food again – local specialities, local wines – about cultural differences, about holidays. Diana tells me that she used to like going away and staying in plush hotels for a while, but got tired of it. She surprises me admitting that her ideal holiday nowadays is to rent a small cottage somewhere remote for a week, and potter about not doing a lot. 'I was snowed in over Christmas and New Year,' she says. 'A little place on a farm in the Pennines. It was a lovely cottage, and the scenery was fantastic, even under several feet of snow. Fortunately I had plenty of food in, and plenty to read, because I wasn't going anywhere.'

'All by yourself?' Part of me thinks it sounds very romantic to be snowed in at Christmas, but romantic's no good if you're on your own.

'Yes.' She smiles. 'Like you, I'm quite happy in my own company. Most of the time I prefer it, truth be told.' She pushes the empty bowl to the side and looks off to one side for a moment. There is a a fair crowd in the pub, but in our little booth at the back, just in each other's company, we can ignore it mostly. I reflect that it feels nice to sit here with Diana, talking about all sorts of things in a way I haven't done with anyone much for a while. She's interested in what I have to say and what I've done, and is herself interesting company. We're quite similar, I realise; we have what feels like an instinctive understanding of each other. We're on the same wavelength, one which is different from most other people I know. It's nice.

When she looks back at me, there is a softness in her eyes which gives me a little thrill deep inside. She has quite a serious expression, but it's not as severe as it quite often is at work. 'Fiona, I've really enjoyed tonight. Thank you.'

'It's been fun, hasn't it?'

She nods. 'It has. Different from anything I've done in a while, but yes, it has been fun.' Our hands are quite close on the table top, and she moves hers to gently nudge mine. 'But thank you also for helping me feel better about this damned speech.' I don't think I've helped much, but I'm very pleased she thinks I have. I smile and let her carry on. 'I've got some thoughts I can work on now.' She pauses again, obviously on the point of saying more.

I stroke my finger over the back of her hand while I wait for her to find her words. When she doesn't speak for a bit, I say, 'I like this, Diana.' She looks up, curious. 'Us, I mean. This. Sitting here chatting over a few drinks. It feels nice.'

Her face softens with what I think looks like relief. 'Yes. Thank you for saying that. I've been feeling the same.' She glances away, then back at me. 'It's been a long time since I've been out and not cared where the time has gone.'

I look at my watch, and realise it's quite a lot later than I thought. 'God.'

'Yes. That's what I mean.' She takes her hand away and runs it through her hair quickly. 'Fiona? Could we...I mean, do you think you might like to do this again?'

Her awkwardness is very touching. Inside I am feeling quite mellow in the glow of the closeness Diana and I have found. And I really do like the touch of her hand. I tug gently on a strand of my hair. 'Are you asking me out again, Diana?'

'Yes. I suppose I am.' She smiles nervously.

'If we do...doing it a second time definitely makes it more than just a drink together. It might lead to doing it again and again.' I feel a real flutter of pleasure at the idea of Diana taking me on dates. When I think back to those chats with Michelle in the smoking shelter, this is exactly the kind of interest I have always wanted her to show in me. And now it's actually happening.

She shrugs. 'I suppose it might. If you would like it to.'

'I would, Diana.'

She smiles in relief. 'Good.' She looks at me carefully. 'We'll do it again then. Soon.'

I grin at her. 'That's a date, then.'

She grins back. 'Yes. I suppose it is.'

We gather up our stuff, and make our way out of the pub. I walk with her to the end of the road, and feel comfortable, now we've acknowledged what sort of footing our relationship is on, to ask something that I've been vaguely wondering about. 'Are you still seeing Petra?'

Diana looks surprised. 'No. Not for months now. She put a stop to it just after Christmas. Why?

'She did?' I certainly wasn't expecting that.

'Yes.' Diana stops walking and turns to look at me closely. 'I knew she had someone else on the go as well, and she knew I knew. She said she wanted to concentrate on her instead.'

'God. I'm sorry.' I imagine it'd be pretty unusual for Diana to be dumped.

She shrugs. 'It's fine.' A frown passes over her face quickly. 'You know she was never anything serious. You were quite forthright on the subject of my irresponsibility in relationships, I seem to remember.'

I shrug, a little embarrassed. 'Sorry, I was very rude.'

She waves a hand. 'It's in the past. And you may have been right about some things.' She moves a step closer and rests a hand on my arm. 'I like you, Fiona. I also like what we've shared tonight. I promise this will be different. That I will be different.'

I push up against her briefly and smile up at her. 'Thanks. I'm glad.' Moving back a little again, I ask, 'But, back to Petra just for a second. Did you know who it was?' As Diana has been making such an effort, I feel I owe it to her to be honest.

'The other woman? No. Although I had my suspicions.' She looks at me carefully. 'Although as far as I can tell, she's actually not with anyone in particular now, so I do wonder if there really was someone else.' She shrugs again. 'In fact, it'd probably more or less run its course between us anyway.'

I take a deep breath. 'There was someone else. Me.'

Diana smiles, not unkindly. 'I did wonder.'

'But she dumped me just after Christmas too. For the same reason.'

Diana is quiet for a moment, then laughs. 'The clever little bitch. That makes sense now.' She waves her hand. 'A few things she said, how she was towards the end. She was trying to get me to think about you in a new light, it seems. Which worked.' She smiles at me gently. 'She dumped us both, to bring us together.'

I can't quite see that myself, but maybe that discussion's for another time. I take another deep breath. 'OK. Well, then, part of the reason for asking...if you aren't going to be busy with her tomorrow...' I like the way she raises an eyebrow and lets me carry on. 'There's a band on in that pub again. We're all going.'

'”We” being...?'

'Me, my housemate and her boyfriend. Sandra and her husband.' I point back at the pub. 'Lizzie, if she can get the time off.' I try to sound off-hand. 'You could bring your “friend” again.' I wince inwardly at the quotation marks in my voice.

Diana smiles. 'You don't need to worry about her. She really is just a friend, and in any case she's just got herself a shockingly oversexed new girlfriend, so she'll be busy.' She considers for a moment. 'As for the gig, why not?'