Mum's visiting Jan and she insists I come with her.

Usually I refuse point blank, but I decide to come along on the off-chance that Sandy is there. I've seen him a couple of times in classes since the coffee "date" and I have thought about him from time to time.

I'm still wondering about the mystery Becca and who she is, or what she is to Sandy – for instance. And should I have sent him a WhatsApp message or something afterwards, saying thanks for the coffee? If only he didn't hate Twitter so much (weirdo) and then I could have sent him a message that way.

But all of these thoughts feel disloyal. Mr A, remember, I tell myself. I have this wonderful, adult relationship that makes me fizz inside, that makes me forget to think about food and I am a loyal and faithful person. Why would I have time for a boy who collects fruit stickers and who watches, whisper it, Bargain Hunt, on TV? I have a man, a man not a boy.

Jan's house is just as it is always – messy and smelling strongly of food. I resist the urge to wipe the seat before I sit down on it. Jan's totally different when it comes to my mum and me, cleanliness-wise.

"Teas, coffees, biscuits?" she says. To my relief, Katie is out. But so is Sandy too.

"Coffee please – black with a sweetener, Jan," I say quickly, crossing my fingers that she won't bring out any biscuits.

"Tea for me, Jan," the Great British Baker chimes in, and then scrambles around in her ginormous handbag before pulling out a Tupperware box.

Great. The Great British Baker strikes again with yet more baked stuff loaded with fat and sugar. And of course her home-made stuff is always much, much yummier than shop stuff.

"I've been trying out this new recipe for muffins," she says. "These are white chocolate and cranberry ones. Do you want one Jan?"

Jan's face lights up. "Pathetic," I think.

"God, YES! I'll just get those teas and coffee. Don't go away now!"

She leaves the room and Mum sets the box on top of a pile of magazines on Jan's messy coffee table. The magazines teeter, so she whips the box off them and sets it on her knees instead.

"I don't suppose you'll want one," she says to me and I glance at her, wary that she sounds a bit hostile.

"Maybe later," I say – hoping against hope that she and Jan finish them all off now. Or that she leaves the rest of them with Jan when we leave. I can't be having a Tupperware box full of muffins in the house because I'll never be able to resist.

Jan bustles in again with three mugs on a tray which she has to put down on the floor because there's no room on the coffee table.

She hands a paper napkin to mum and waves one in my direction questioningly, but I shake my head.

She takes a large mouthful of the muffin, crumbs falling everywhere, and sighs in contentment.

"Oh my days Josie," she murmurs, her eyes closed in appreciation. "You just get better and better! You should apply for the Great British Bake-Off, you know!"

"NO!" I bark out. Shit, did I say that out loud? Both of them are looking at me in concern.

"I mean, well – it looks so competitive." My mum's face darkens. Shit, I'm making this worse. "It just mean that it would put you under a lot of pressure, wouldn't it? And you'd have to spend so much time trying stuff out, you wouldn't have time to do anything else."

Mum nods, "I s'pose. Baking's fun for me – I think of it as active meditation if you know what I mean. It probably wouldn't be much fun if I was having to do it all the time, practising all the different elements – cakes, biscuits, pastry, bread and patisserie."

Not to mention all the bloody spare food we'd have round the house and all the food she'd be forcing Tony, Ben and me to eat.

Jan reaches out for another muffin. "These are seriously good, though Josie. Definitely worth breaking your diet for!"

She and Mum burst out laughing.

"So what's that now Jan?" Mum chuckles. "Are you on your tenth re-join of Weight Watchers or what?"

Jan laughs some more.

"Twelfth actually! I counted it up the other day!"

Both of them seem to find this even more hilarious. I can't see what is funny at all – why on earth can't she stick to her diet? I've not eaten today – actually I've not eaten since yesterday lunchtime. I rub my belly, liking the hollow and uncomfortable feeling inside there.

Why are some people so weak-willed?

The front door opens and I feel my hollowed-out, empty stomach give a small leap.

"Is that you love?" Jan calls out.

"No, it's me Sandy," the reply comes back.

Jan looks at both of us. "Actually, I call both of them 'love', but Sandy hasn't got used to it yet – poor soul! It's as if he doesn't think he's earned that name."

That little bit of info makes me feel kinder towards Sandy, who has just come into the room. The feeling in my stomach has turned jangly and I realise I'm nervous – nervous about what he'll do and say when he sees I am here.

He looks at me, grins widely and then spots the Tupperware box.

"I'm starving Auntie Jan, what's that?"

"White chocolate and cranberry muffins – but hands off, they're mine!"

"Aw, c'mon! Just one, Auntie Jan?"

"Ok, in return for you making us some more teas and coffee," she bargains with him and gives him the order.

"Yeah, black coffee with sweetener," he says looking at me and I smile, pleased he has remembered.

"Such a nice young man," Mum says as he leaves the room and I shoot her daggers. What a naff thing to say.

She catches my look.

"Well, he is nice. If Ben turns out half a nice as him Jan, I'll be delighted."

I snort. As if! Ben, the boy who hasn't said please or thank you for two years.

Sandy kicks the door open, coming back in with the teas and coffees. He hands them out, grabs himself a muffin and sits down next to me on the sofa. I pretend not to notice the look Jan and my mum shoot each other.

He's so close I can smell his deodorant (faint and lemon-y), but the most overwhelming smell is the muffin – vanilla, cranberries and sugar, and I'm mesmerised watching the crumbs that have missed his mouth and dropped into his lap.

Falling face down on his lap to lick them up probably isn't acceptable, I suppose.

Shame.

He notices my look and his eyes widen. I turn away from him slightly, embarrassed. There is no explanation for this one – it's not what you think, I'm fantasising about those cake crumbs not you! doesn't sound right.

"Are you enjoying school Sandy?" Mum asks, and I shoot her a look of my own.

"Yeah, I am Mrs Katsaros–"

"Josie please!"

I shoot her another filthy look. She sounds like she is FLIRTING.

"Er... yeah, Josie. It's great. I'm enjoying Spanish and drama."

"Not English then?" I say, bristling on Mr A's behalf.

"It's OK," he says, shrugging and reaching for another muffin. I try to stop my eyes following his hand as it reaches out, takes hold of and brings the cake back to the napkin on his lap. It's kind of like watching those Fairground grabber machines hovering enticingly over a prize, picking it up and then dropping it once again out of reach.

"Haven't you got Bargain Hunt episodes to watch?" I ask, in revenge for the English 'OK' comment. This remark, I can tell, has foxed Mum and Jan.

"Nope, bang up to date with it," he says, and I feel mean.

"Ooh Josie!" Jan exclaims. "I've been thinking of redecorating the kitchen and I've got some paint charts. Do you want to come and have a look at them?"

She's no actress, Jan, and the pair of them practically run out of the room. They leave behind an awkward silence.

One, two, three, four...

"Who's Becca?" I burst out and then immediately I want to hit myself.

Sandy helps himself to another muffin (his third or is it FOURTH?) and smirks.

"What's it to you?" he asks through a mouthful of muffin. Again, I try not to get too mesmerised by dropping crumbs and the chunks of white chocolate I can see falling on his lap.

"Nothing!" This sounds a lot like the way me and Ben speak to each other.

I shrug and get my phone out of my bag, fiddling with it for something to do. He finishes his muffin slowly and washes it down with the tea. My belly lets out an enormous gurgle and I push my bag into it, trying to stop the sound.

"Hungry again?" he asks. "Do you want a muffin?"

I shake my head quickly and mutter "fine thanks", even though my rotten belly has rumbled again.

He shrugs and then stands up. "I've got homework," he says, picking up his empty cup and mine and heading for the door. As he reaches the door, he pauses and turns back to face me.

"Becca's an old friend," he says and then reaches forward ruffling my hair. "See you."

My hand springs up the place where he touched it. I smile.

An added bonus is that Sandy has managed to finish off the muffins.

ellipsis;wd