Dave the date is about to knock on my front door. I am at the back door struggling to get inside after running through a muddy field and negotiating a very tricky barbed wire fence. My back is stinging but I don't have time to look. With a wiggle of the key, I am home.

I race from the back of the cottage to the front and fling open the door. Dave the date is still holding onto the knocker and looks surprised to see me so soon.

'Hello,' I say.

'Hi,' he says, regaining his balance. 'I was just passing so...'

'Fine, great, yeah. Come in!' He has to duck to get through the front door. 'Bijou' he says.

'Cheap,' I say.

He follows me into the kitchen. I can still smell last night's curry. 

'Tea or coffee?' I ask, rustling through a cupboard. 'I have herb tea....and Green tea and I think, somewhere in here is a really good Colombian blend. Oh and I can see half caff lurking at the back there...' I want to slit my own throat.

'Instant coffee is fine, thanks.' 

I get up from the cupboard and bang my head. I rub it hard and ignore the sick feeling. 

'Please, sit down,' I say. 'The best chair is next to the Aga. It's not on, you won't fry.'

He sits and stretches his legs. He isn't wearing socks and I glimpse a tanned ankle. Suddenly I'm as hot as the Aga at full blast.

The cat comes in. She eyes Dave the date sitting in her chair and rubs against his legs.

'Your cat has no tail,' Dave the date says.

'She lost it in an accident. Climbed into my neighbour's car and sat by the engine for warmth. He started up and that was the end of her tail.'

'Grizzly,' he says.

'She's a fighter, fortunately.' I hand him a mug of coffee. He puts it on the Aga and strokes Kizzy who leaps into his lap.

'She's also very forward. Hob nob?'

'No thanks.'

I laugh. 'It's such a stupid name!' 

He looks at me. 'Kizzy?'

'Hob nob.' I am puce and all of thirteen. 'I'll show you the boards. They're in the front room.'

Kizzy jumps into the chair the moment he stands up. 

'I like what you're doing to this place,' he eyes the open fireplace. 'How long have you been here?'

'Coming up for two years.' I remember moving in, the day Prince Charles married Camilla. Mum kept wandering off around the back telling the neighbours I was having his baby. 

Dave the date touches the bare wooden floors, stroking his fingers along the grain. I see the indent where his wedding ring used to be.

'I'm still renting.'

'Really?' I know where he lives, Maisie told me. It's a new housing estate on the edge of the next village. 

'It's convenient and close to the kids' school.' His face changes for the briefest moment.

I smile. His kids are still little, twin boys. aged seven. 'It must be hard to be apart from them.' I say before I realise.

'Yeah. At first they kept asking when I was coming back, now they don't mention it. I don't know which is worse.'

'All of it, I guess.' 

We drink coffee and the silence isn't awkward.

'I can easily do these for you,' he says. 'This old wood will come up a really rich honey colour.'

'That's great,' I say, genuinely pleased. 'I'm on a bit of a budget....' 

'Can you make cakes?' 

'Yes,' I lie.

'My boys have a birthday coming up. If you could make me a couple of cakes, I'll do the floors.'

'Really?' I say.

'Is that a yes?' he asks, leaning against the log basket as if it's his spot. 

'Yes.' I say, reaching down to self-consciously touch my back. I feel skin where there should be clothes. A flap of material strokes my hand. I suddenly realise there is a huge hole torn from the barbed wire fence in the back of my dungarees and my faded period knickers are showing.

I can't decide if I'm more mortified at the period knickers or the fact Dave the date has seen my knickers. 

Either way, Dave the date leaves without mentioning a word, the perfect gentleman.