He put one hand lightly on the back of her neck and simultaneously she placed one hand lightly on his hip, and they kissed in the street as all around them people hurried home in the summer light, and it was the sweetest kiss that either of them would ever know. This is where it all begins. Everything starts here, today. And then it was over.

Who do you think you are, Jane Eyre? Grow up. Be sensible. Don't get carried away.

My 20s was a sea of worry. I worried about benefit forms, about being thrown out of my flat. I never went on holiday because I thought: 'What if an audition comes up?' I was a nervous wreck.

but they had also settled into the maddening familiarity of friendship; maddening for her at least.

I know that for every reader who has lost the habit or can't find the time, there are people who've never enjoyed reading and question the value of literature, either as entertainment or education, or believe that a love of books, and of fiction in particular, is sentimental or frivolous.

And it was at moments like this that she had to remind herself that she was in love with him, or had once been in love with him, a long time ago.

Do you miss her?' 'Who? Emma? Of course. Every day. She was my best friend.