Sarah paused with her clenched fist ready to knock on the door. Should she do this? It was out of her character, and could end in disaster. If they were caught, they both had a huge amount to lose.

Then again, she thought, it could be the best thing she had ever done. Her head told her what she was doing was wrong, that she should not run to him so easily. Her heart told her it was wrong as well, but that it was absolutely the right thing to do. And she could not stand outside the door all day.

The familiar bong of the email hitting her computer had made her look up from the proof text she was checking through. She was about to obliterate it in the same way as the other adverts for blue pills and pleas for help from Nigerian princes. She did not for one reason:

Just the one word, grapes, made her curious. After checking for malicious attachments, she opened it and read the contents. As she did, she flushed slightly. She looked around the office. Good, nobody was near enough to read it. So she read through it again, not quite believing what it said.

"Hi Sarah
 
I was just looking through "Kibbutz Nights" on the web, and saw your details. Oh boy, did that bring back some memories.
 
Do you remember the day before you left? It was a hot day wasn't it (they all were weren't they) and I was trying to cool down in my room. You came in with a bunch of grapes and a bikini top...
 
I think I was a bit naïve back then, or else I would have said you were trying to seduce me. Were you?
 
Any way, if you want, please get in touch. Perhaps you could give me the grapes I missed out on. 
 
J.
xx"

Oh my God, she thought. His implication was obvious. 
 
She thought about J. a lot. All the time in fact. John Baylin. She remembered the way he looked lying on his bed in the cool stillness, his tan body lean from hard work in the fields of the Kibbutz. 
 
He was right - she had been trying to seduce him. And yes, he had been somewhat naïve. She also thought he had been chivalrous. He had a girlfriend on the Kibbutz, Susan, who seemed to entrance him, her pretty face smiling up as he bent down to kiss her.
 
Of course, Sarah had a summer fling herself, with Miles, a tall and blond South African. She smiled to herself as she remembered his curious laid back charm, which he said was from his Cape Town upbringing. Then she remembered that all through the summer, she had gazed jealously at John and Susan. Their friends would have laughed if she told them that, even as she sat perfectly on Miles' lap she was thinking of John, longing for him.
 
At the end, the day before she was due to go home leaving the idyllic summer behind, she had taken a bag of grapes from the kitchens to his room. Susan was working in the date palm groves and would be gone until sunset. He was lying in the dark room out of the midday heat. She shut the door behind her and sat on to the bed next to him. He leaned up on one elbow so his face was level with her upper arm. She had on only a pair of cut off jeans and a bikini top, her shoulders smooth and brown against the pink and green material.
 
He had said "hi" and looked up at her curiously. She asked if he would like a grape, then picked one out of the bag herself. She popped it into her mouth, squeezing it softly between her teeth until the skin broke and the juice ran out, before catching it back with her tongue. Even years later she could recall in tiny detail how he had breathed in slightly, sharply and held it, without answering.
 
There was a knock on the door. He had not moved his look from her, and she had waited for him to decide. Then he asked who it was, and Maxwell from Canada had come in, stuttered an apology about interrupting something, and John had reassured him he was not, and they had shared the grapes out while Sarah sat heart beating furiously. John had put one hand on her knee and shrugged to her. She left for home the next day.
 
She had read his email again. How should she reply? She drafted a response; then deleted it. Then there was another, and another. Finally, she had simply clicked on send without even going over what she had written. As the blue bar showing the email being sent grew bigger, she had frantically clicked to try and stop its progress, but it was too late.
 
John's response was almost immediate, but his email had remained unopened through Sarah's lunch break and well into the afternoon. Finally, the office began to clear. Only her boss was left in, working late as he did most nights. She had brought the email up and straight away giggled like a girl. His invitation sent a thrill right through her. It was a long time since she had felt thought of in such a way.
 
Anyone looking would have said she had made a decision instantly, and been amused at the flustered way she turn off her computer as quickly as possible before rushing from her desk, without bothering to button her coat or tie her scarf, as though she had somewhere to go urgently.  

She did. And here she was, tensed, making a decision.  

Was it an irony that the rings on her poised fist were gold but they bound her to a monotone, grey life? It seemed to her that she was living in some sort of cliché. Two kids at school, boring part time job and a husband who seemed to have forgotten what made them what they were in the first place. He the right noises sometimes but they were forced, false. 

It was this last thought, that she thought her husband no longer appeared to think of her in the same way as he had the younger version that made her mind up.

She knocked on the door just under the brass with Mr J Baylin, Managing Director. From inside came a familiar voice. 

"Hello. Please, come in".

She pushed the door open, and saw him sat behind his desk. His eyes widened as he took in the woman in front of him, dressed like a memory, in freshly cut-off jeans and a slightly too small bikini top. 

"Ah, well, I didn't expect you so soon. I thought you had a lot of proof reading to do," he smiled and moved some papers across his desk, clearing a space. "Anyway, no matter. I just hope you brought some grapes, Mrs Baylin."

"Oh yes, Mr Baylin," she said. "I brought some grapes. Fancy some?"