Joan lifted her chin. ‘I can look after myself.’

‘I’m sure you can. But I’m on my own all day today, too. It’s my first weekend living without my mum, so if you wanted to bring your book over, have some company, that would be fine.’

Joan pursed her lips. ‘Maybe. I’ll see how I get on.’

‘Okay, great.’ I turned to go, then stopped to add, ‘I’ve also got far too much food for lunch, if you wanted to help me eat some. I’m not used to shopping for one person, either.’

Joan gave me one sharp nod, and closed the door.

I took another look at the giant packages and decided it was time to meet my other neighbour, the one sandwiched between Joan and Leanne and End Cottage.

If I wasn’t so desperate I’d have given up waiting long before the front door finally creaked open. Was this how things worked in the countryside? You finished what you were doing, put the kettle on, faffed about for a few more minutes and then got around to answering the door?

But when I saw who’d answered it, my impatience was instantly replaced with a mixture of guilt and sympathy. The man who now hunched a good few inches below me looked as though it had taken every last ounce of energy just to open the old door. He had no hair on his head, though a bristling beard covered his chin. Dappled legs poked out of baggy cargo shorts, and he wore a T-shirt that said, With a body like this, who needs hair?

‘Yes?’

‘Hi.’ I smiled. I had spent a lot of time with older people in the Buttonhole, and knew that if you didn’t speak as if they were deaf, senile or stupid, they generally appreciated it. ‘I’m Ollie, I’ve moved in next door and thought I’d come and say hello. I hope I didn’t disturb you?’

He looked me up and down. ‘Well, you did.’

‘Right. Sorry.’ I waited for him to accept my apology, but from the look on his face I’d be waiting all day. ‘And, um, you are…?’

‘None of your business.’ He took so long to slam the door that it took on the guise of slow-motion. I was so taken aback that by the time it finally clicked closed, I was still just standing there.

Great.

Across the road was an empty field. I could try the houses further down the lane, but after that welcome I wasn’t feeling optimistic. I spent a wistful minute or two imagining how switching the beds would become a funny, romantic story were my Dream Man here to take the bulk of the weight on his broad shoulders, before slapping that pathetic fantasy to one side and determining to solve this problem alone.

Right. First things first… another cup of tea.