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potassium allowance for the day, when a familiar voice sent a charge of electricity right through me.
    “Hey, Ben, good to see you, mate.”
    I wrenched my head around so fast I was in serious danger of whiplash.
    Ollie looked different to how he usually did, and it wasn’t just the lack of forest-green polyester. I was used to looking down on him from standing, but from this angle, his face seemed somehow stronger, more confident. The Manga-kitten effect of those big brown eyes was lessened, and his jaw jutted out more. I flicked my gaze over him quickly, hoping he wouldn’t notice. He had on baggy jeans and a skinny-fit black T-shirt under a snug black apron. In case I’d been in any doubt as to his reason for being here, he had an order pad and pen in his hand.
    Ollie cleared his throat, and I realised I was well overdue making my reply.
    “Hi. Er, nice place you’ve got here.” It wasn’t. The table was still sticky from the last occupants, and the decor looked like something Mrs. F. would approve of: all cutesy knickknacks and dried flowers.
    Ollie shrugged. “It’s not bad, but the manager never listens to my ideas for improving things. Still, the coffee’s great. Can I get you one? On the house.”
    My heart fell. “I’d love to, but I can’t drink coffee. Doctor’s orders.”
    “Bummer.” Ollie sounded genuinely upset on my behalf.
    “Yeah. It is.” I brandished the menu. “How about a smoothie? Are they any good?”
    A wicked grin lit up Ollie’s face. “I could do you one of my specials, if you like. They’ve got a bit more kick than the regular.”
    “Kick?”
    “I do an awesome dark chocolate, cherry and cranberry smoothie. Well, it’s kind of a milkshake with all the ice-cream that goes in there, but it tastes divine.”
    “I bet.” I’d been watching Ollie’s lips as he spoke, imagining just how heavenly they would taste.
    “I’ll put you down for one of those, then.”
    Shit. “No. Er, better not. Just plain fruit please.”
    “It’s not as fattening as you think. Debs, she’s on Weightwatchers, and she still has one every day. Mind you, she starves herself the rest of the time, or so she says.”
    I’d have to explain. Better he knew the truth than thought I was someone with an eating disorder.
    “I…I can’t. I’m not well right now. I had kidney failure a couple of years ago, and I’m on dialysis now. It really puts a crimp on my lifestyle. I can’t eat anything much, can’t drink alcohol or coffee; I feel like death warmed up. I’ve got to do everything by the book so I don’t end up killing myself. Sorry.” I croaked the last word out.
    “Shit, man. That’s rough.” Ollie rubbed the back of his neck and looked awkward. “Don’t know if I could cope without coffee and chocolate.”
    Now he was going to do that whole sympathy thing and go on about how sorry he was and how his second-uncle-once-removed had kidney troubles, or some such pointless anecdote about an old codger that would make me feel ancient. I might have the odd grey hair coming through, but I wasn’t ready to join up with the stair lift brigade just yet.
    As it was, his next question threw me.
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    “So, does that mean you’re a cyborg?”
    “You what?” I just stared at him, amazed to see the start of that quirky grin at the corners of his mouth.
    “You know, like, you’re hooked up to machines in order to stay alive. That makes you a cyborg, technically.”
    “Uh, well, I’m not really hooked up to machines.” His face fell for some bizarre reason I couldn’t fathom. I wanted to get the grin back again. “I did that for a while, but I’m on a different form of dialysis now. It’s called Continuous Ambulatory Peritoneal Dialysis.” He looked impressed, so I continued, despite it being the one part of my life I really didn’t want to talk about. “I have to fill my abdomen up with fluid four times a day, then drain it out a few hours later. It’s not all that high-tech or