The chalk pentacle was still almost perfectly preserved on the flagstones. She set the candles in its centre along with a recently washed bowl and summonsed her search engine – Incognito Window – to navigate her way to a spell that would send Fantasy Ash packing.

With limited witchy resources at her disposal – white candles, household herbs, some gift-wrap ribbons – it was like searching for a recipe using store-cupboard standbys the day before the online groceries order arrived. She found just one that might suit her needs – Ye Olde Spell to Lift a Curse. It was very straightforward, a Jamie fifteen-minute meal of a spell. It would have to do.

She set to work, sprinkling a bit of dried lavender and thyme over her candle flame, saying a few lines, dripping wax into the bowl and spitting on it, feeling increasingly stupid for doing this, not to mention tired and cold; and she was now inconveniently hungry. Her phone, running low on battery, died as she incanted the final line, which felt a bit spooky. Then a dark shadow fell across her flickering pentacle.

‘What are you doing, kochanie?’

She looked up at Aleš, huge, blinky-eyed and naked.

‘Hi!’ Not thinking, she blew out the candle. It plunged them into total darkness. ‘Shit!’

‘I get light switch.’ There was a crash as Aleš fell over the sofa which wasn’t where it was supposed to be. ‘Oof!’ and the coffee table got him next.

Bridge managed to fumble the bowl, candle and ribbon out of the way before the lights went on full blast, making them both blink.

‘Almost ruined my surprise!’ she game-faced, indicating her chalk pentacle, and wondering what on earth she was going to say to explain it away.

‘Huh?’ Aleš was at post-midnight, post-two-bottles-of-red monosyllabic which helped. As long as it sounded vaguely feasible, there was a chance he would swallow any explanation for the sake of getting back to bed. Pavement art?

‘Parquet!’ It came to her in a flash.

‘Eh?’

‘I always loved parquet. You know, the wood block flooring? So I thought I’d map out my ideal pattern. Plan a treat for the house when my first pay cheque comes in. What do you think?’

She braced herself. Poor, Bridge. Very poor. This is a flagstone floor in a grade two listed cottage. You hate parquet. He will damn you as a witch and have you dunked.

He chuckled, squatting down to admire the chalk shape. ‘I thought just same thing when we moved in here. I like this design! I have man who does very good parquet. I call him.’ He took her hand. ‘Now come to bed: I am horny again.’

She gaped at him.

‘Joke!’ he grinned, breaking another yawn and lifting her hand to kiss it.

Bridge felt his whiskers thread beneath her nails, always marvelling at how small her fingers looked in his. And she realised the spell had worked. Fantasy Ash was no longer with her.