Her parents were nearby, of course, although constantly busy. And she had friends – good friends she’d had since school – but most had moved away from the village now, for exciting new jobs and adventures and marriages, and only kept in touch occasionally, largely by email. There was still her best friend Sian, and Joe and his older brother Ralph, all of whom she had known for ever, all still living in the village, the four of them thick as thieves, as Gran used to say, since their early days at primary school. She remembered them all doing their homework together, Ralph reluctantly helping the others because he was three years older, having fun at various birthday parties, playing games of Twister or Monopoly on snowy stay-indoors days, watching kids’ TV or listening to music in each other’s bedrooms.

She allowed herself a nostalgic moment, picturing them all together as kids, curling up and rolling side by side down a grassy slope, turning faster and faster, racing their way to the bottom, and then crashing into each other, all squealing loudly and her giggling so helplessly that she’d wet her knickers. It was a flash of memory that made her smile, before reality crept back in. Joe. Oh, God. Joe. No, she really didn’t want to think too much about Joe right now, or that night in The Brown Cow just a week ago when she had got things so horribly wrong.

It was going to be hard staying friends with Joe – the comfortable, easy-going kind of friendship they had had before. Since he’d rented the small ground-floor-extension flat in her parents’ old house, they lived within yards of each other and she ran the constant risk of bumping into him, unexpectedly and often. How would she cope with that? She couldn’t bear the thought of him avoiding her, pitying her, perhaps even laughing at her. But she had stepped over a line, and stepping back behind it again, as if nothing had happened, would be pretty much impossible, for both of them. She had not only lost him as a boyfriend, and quite probably as a friend too, but embarrassed herself, publicly and spectacularly, in front of just about everyone she knew. Short of either staying indoors for ever or packing up and moving away permanently, she had no idea how to deal with that. Still, this month away would help, even if it really was just a temporary solution. She was running away. She knew that. And she also knew that, once the dust had settled, and with all her remaining annual leave used up at work, she would have no alternative but to go back.

She stretched out her arms and legs, yawning. Thankfully, there had been no dreams, just a long lovely slip into oblivion that she had needed even more than she had realised. Sticking a foot out from under the covers she was surprised at how warm the bedroom was. Perhaps she should think about modernising the cottage, putting in some central heating with instant hot water any time she needed it, and one of those hot towel rails in the bathroom. Having lived here for just a few hours, she could already see what a difference they made.