The other chair was allowed to stay empty.

The person at the cafe door asked, "One?" I said, "Yes, my appointment finished early," which was considerably more information than the seating system required. She picked up one menu. The case was closed.

I had an hour before I needed to be anywhere else. I was hungry. There was a cafe serving food I wanted at a price I was happy to pay. These facts should have produced lunch without further discussion.

Instead, I had spent five minutes outside checking whether the tables looked too large for one person. I considered buying something to take away and eating it while walking, as if movement would supply a respectable explanation for being by myself.

I chose the seat I actually wanted.

She offered a little table by the window or one farther inside. I chose the window. It had a view of a man attempting to fit a tall plant into the back of a very small car. This seemed promising.

I ordered soup and bread. I asked how large the soup was because I was hungry, not because I was conducting research. Then I put my bag on the spare chair, moved it under the table, worried it was in the way and moved it back. The bag was having a much busier lunch than I was.

My phone came out next. There was no message I needed to answer. I opened the weather, which confirmed the weather visible through the window. I put it away again.

I had brought a book, but I did not feel like reading. Nora would have understood this particular use of luggage. I had watched her pack a novel for an entire afternoon and return with the plot almost completely intact.

There was something to do after all.

The soup arrived hot, so I tore some bread while it cooled. The plant outside finally went into the car at an angle that seemed acceptable to both parties. Somebody at the next table was explaining a recipe. I could hear the coffee machine and the ordinary movement of plates.

I ate slowly enough to notice that I liked the soup. That is not a claim about a new way of living. It was simply pleasant soup, and I had chosen to sit down with it.

When the server checked on me, I said everything was good. I did not apologise for occupying the other chair by association. When I wanted more water, I asked. Eating alone did not require me to become either invisible or unusually charming.

I did read a few pages afterwards. Then I checked the time, paid and left. The cafe was getting busier, and I had somewhere to be. There was no need to make a whole day out of proving I could manage a table.

Later Nora asked how the appointment had gone. I told her, then told her about the soup. She asked where I had eaten. I sent the name, with a note that I had only tried one thing and that it had been good.

"We should go," she said. I agreed. I would enjoy lunch with Nora. I now also knew what to do if I was hungry nearby and Nora was elsewhere, which seemed like a useful addition to my options.