Up until now, he felt she trusted him. Now he wasn't so sure.'What is it you do, exactly, Matt?'Matt looked away. 'I run a bar and restaurant,' he replied. 'On the coast, just outside Marbella. You should come down sometime.''No, really,' she repeated.Matt paused. They were meeting in the Feathered Crown, a pub along the river just down from Hammersmith Bridge. It was still hot, even though it was after eight, and most of the drinkers were sitting outside, stripped down to their T-shirts and bikini tops, drinking pint after pint of beer to stay cool. He and Eleanor had stayed inside: there was more shade, it was quieter, and nobody was likely to overhear their conversation.'I've told you, I was in the regiment,' said Matt. 'They never let you leave entirely.''Do you think maybe you have issues with letting go, Matt?' said Eleanor, turning serious. 'That's quite a common psychological reaction, particularly with men who have been very committed to one career. After it ends, they have trouble focusing on the next thing.''Actually, I think they have problems letting go of me.' Matt took a sip on his beer.
