The Plus One: escape with the hottest, laugh-out-loud debut of summer 2018!

Under the table, Bovril thumped his tail at the sound of his name.

‘Fine. But I imagine there have been… many more.’

He sighed. ‘Many more. I mean honestly, who makes up this nonsense?’

‘So it’s rubbish? All those tales about the legendary Jasper Milton are nonsense?’

‘You, Little Miss Inquisitor, are teasing me. And anyway, what does my personal life really matter to you?’ He looked at me with a straight face. ‘Why are you blushing?’

I put my hand up to my cheek. ‘I’m not. It’s all this wine.’

‘Oh. I thought it might be because I’m flirting with you.’

‘Is this you flirting? I’m amazed you get anyone into bed at all.’

He laughed. ‘Touché.’ And then he brushed his hair to the side, out of his eyes, again. And just for a second, literally for a second, I promise, I wondered what it would be like to be in bed with him, my own fingers in his hair. But then I thought about Lala and told myself to have a sip of water. I couldn’t go around the place fantasizing about my interview subjects. Kate Adie would never do that. I tried to get back to the point.

‘Do you think you’ll settle down though? Find someone? Get married? Have children? Do all that?’

He sighed again and sat back in his seat. ‘Maybe. I don’t know. How does one know? Do you know?’

‘This isn’t about me.’

He laughed. ‘See? You don’t know either. It’s not that easy, is it?’

‘What isn’t?’

He shrugged. ‘Relationships, life, getting older and realizing things can be more complicated than you thought.’

‘You feel hard done by?’

‘No,’ he said, shaking his head. ‘That’s not what I’m saying at all. In the great lottery of life, as my father is fond of saying, I know I’ve done pretty well. But do you know what? Maybe, sometimes, I don’t want to take over this whole place. I don’t want to be told how lucky I am because I get to devote my whole life to a leaky castle and an estate that needs constant attention and I don’t want to be in the papers falling out of a club. But that doesn’t mean that I know what I do want.’

I stayed quiet and glanced up at a portrait of the sixth Duchess of Montgomery, a fat, pale lady in a green dress looking impassively at us from the wall. I looked from the painting to Jasper, who suddenly smiled at me.

‘What’s funny?’ I said.

‘Oh, I don’t know. Me, sitting here, talking to you about how terribly hard my life is. Come on, let’s have more wine and you keep asking me all your clever questions.’ He reached for the bottle and filled up our glasses again.

‘Does it bother you, what other people say? What newspapers say?’

‘It would be a lie if I said that it didn’t. Sometimes it does. But then you just have to remind yourself that they don’t know the real story.’

‘Which is?’

He sighed. ‘Oh, I suppose that we’re a bunch of dysfunctional misfits trying to muddle through like everyone else. Just… in a bigger house. But you can’t say that,’ he said, inclining his head towards my phone, still recording on the table. ‘I’ll get in trouble. More trouble. “Poor little rich boy”, they’ll all say.’

‘It’s quite a defence plea though.’ I said this smiling at him. I couldn’t take his sob story that seriously but I still felt a twinge of sympathy. A very tiny one.

‘Nope,’ he said, ‘Sorry. Can’t use it. That was just for you to know. Not everyone else. And what about you, anyway?’

‘What do you mean?’

‘What’s your story? Why are you here interviewing me?’

I felt awkward. ‘Erm, it’s not very exciting. I grew up in Surrey, then my dad died, so Mum and I moved to Battersea where she’s lived ever since. I was all right at English at school so my teacher said I should think about becoming a journalist. I think he meant more politics and news than castles and Labradors, though, no offence.’

‘None taken.’

‘But this is good for now.’

He nodded in silence. ‘Have you got a boyfriend?’

I laughed. ‘I’m supposed to be asking the questions.’

‘You are. I’m just being nosy.’

‘No, as it happens. I don’t. A bit like you, I guess, relationships aren’t my thing.’

‘Good,’ he said. ‘I couldn’t imagine you with an Ed or a James, living in some terribly poky flat in Wandsworth.’

‘Oh, I see. You’re not a man of the people at all. You’re a snob?’

‘I’m teasing. Some of my closest friends are called Ed and James. But come on, Polly, you really must lighten up or we’ll never get anywhere. If we’re going to get married one day, you’ll need to stop being so stern.’

‘You’re ridiculous,’ I said. But I laughed. I couldn’t help myself. He was clearly the boy your mother warned you about but he was also charming. More charming than I’d thought earlier that day. More charming than the papers made out. Or maybe it was the wine?

‘Why shouldn’t we get married? I think you’re terribly sweet. And funny. And you clearly know nothing about horses which is also a bonus.’

And then he leaned forward and kissed me. Briefly. His lips brushed mine for two or three seconds, tops, before I pulled my head back. Slow reflexes, admittedly. But, in my defence, I was very drunk.

‘Don’t even think about it,’ I said in my most matronly voice, pulling away.

‘No?’

‘No. This is work. For me anyway. And just when I was starting to like you.’

‘Have I ruined it?’ he said, still leaning forward, still smiling at me.

I ignored the question. ‘Your seduction techniques might have worked on Lala, but not me.’

He sighed and sat back in his seat. ‘Good old Lala. How is she, anyway?’

‘She’s very well. Well… kind of. You know Lala.’

‘I did like her,’ he said, staring at the table as if in a trance. ‘It just wasn’t the right timing again.’ He paused. ‘Or it was something else. I don’t know.’ He looked up at me. ‘You won’t write about me and her though, will you?’

‘You and Lala? No. Don’t worry.’