Like all great love stories, this one begins with sweat-patches. It was July 2018, and London was in the grip of the kind of heatwave that melts tarmac. At 7.21pm, Emily Lewis stumbled off the train in a state of panic. She was meant to be attending a Guardian Blind date in exactly nine minutes, but her T-shirt was soaked with sweat.
Spotting a Gap store across the road, Emily dashed in and bought a new top almost at random, hiding her wet shirt at the bottom of her rucksack. With three minutes to go, she power-walked to the restaurant, but at the door she faced another hurdle – the hostess had never heard of the Guardian, let alone Blind date. Sweating through her new top, and almost ready to give up, Emily felt a tap on her shoulder. A woman with dark hair was smiling at her, looking cool and unruffled. “I’m Sophie,” she said. “And I think you’re my date.”
