Summer at the Lake by Erica James

their guide, but never had he given them, or their guide, much thought before, other than annoyance if they got in his way. Having met Floriana Day, he now gave the group opposite him more than a passing glance. And then, in spite of how awful the last forty-eight hours had been, he found himself smiling at the sheer daft coincidence of it.
    He crossed the road for a better look, taking care to keep his distance, not wanting to distract her, not when he could see how keenly her group was listening to her, hanging on her every word by the looks of things. He didn’t blame them; with her hands waving about her, she looked extraordinarily animated. The black cape, scarf and witch’s hat she was wearing added another dimension of vibrancy to her. How amusingly unconventional she looked.
    She was ushering the group up the steps of the Sheldonian when she noticed him. Just as he had done, she did a double take. Then smiled and gave a little wave.
    Feeling it would be rude not to, he crossed the road and approached her. ‘Nice hat,’ he said.
    ‘Professor McGonagall,’ she said by way of explanation. ‘I’m doing a Potter tour.’
    ‘Sounds fun. How are you?’ Now that he was close up, he thought she didn’t look much better than when he’d last seen her, though perhaps that was because she had removed the dressing from her face. It looked a terrible mess.
    She glanced over her shoulder at the group that was drifting further away, some of whom were taking photographs, others were consulting their maps, and the rest were looking back at her as if anxious she was about to abandon them. ‘I’m OK,’ she said, ‘busy right now, as you can see.’
    ‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt you. I’d better let you go.’
    ‘It was nice seeing you again,’ she said.
    ‘You too.’ He turned to walk away and then something took hold of him. ‘I don’t suppose you’re . . .’ He stopped himself short. It was a crazy impulse and one that would put her on the spot. So no. Better not to ask.
    ‘What?’ she asked
    He shook his head. ‘No, forget it. It’s nothing.’
    ‘Oh, don’t do that to me. I’ll now spend the rest of the day wondering what it was you wanted to ask.’
    He hesitated. Oh, why not! ‘I was going to ask if you could give me your advice on something. Over lunch maybe. That’s if you’re free today. That’s if you even have a lunch break.’
    ‘I’ll be free at half past one if that’s any good.’
    ‘That would be perfect.’
    ‘Now I really must go.’ She started to move off.
    ‘Where shall I meet you?’ he called after her.
    ‘In St Mary’s in the Vaults. They do great soup. And cakes nearly as good as the ones you gave me on Saturday. See you!’
    ‘I really should have warned you before, giving advice isn’t exactly my strongest suit,’ Floriana said after they’d queued for their lunch and were now seated – they’d both opted for hearty plates of lasagne in preference to the soup. She was glad of the chance to sit down. She was exhausted and looking forward to getting home so she could crash out.
    ‘But I’d be interested to hear what you think,’ Adam said, passing her one of the paper napkins.
    ‘Go on then, tell me what it is you imagine I can help you with.’
    He ate a mouthful of the lasagne, chewed, took a sip of his fizzy water and said: ‘Have you ever been on a break from a boyfriend?’
    She shook her head. ‘Nope.’
    ‘Do you know what the ground rules are?’
    ‘Nope. Sorry.’
    ‘Right,’ he said with a frown. ‘That was short and sweet.’
    Seeing his obvious disappointment, and wishing she could be of more help, Floriana said, ‘Why don’t you give me the context of why you want to know?’ She knew from her chat with Esme that Adam had very recently broken up with his girlfriend, but without admitting they’d discussed him behind his back, she couldn’t acknowledge that she knew about Jesse.
    ‘My first reaction is to tell you to let Jesse