It was nearly eleven by the time I’d donned disposable gloves and had succeeded in wrestling the old mattress off the bed. In between the odd retch caused by my face coming within inches of the worst combination of smells imaginable, I was eventually able to get it through the bedroom door. By the time I’d manhandled it to the top of the stairs, I was dripping with sweat, scarlet-cheeked and covered in grime and dust. However, the next bit was easy – one good shove and the mattress skidded down the stairs, momentum carrying it right out of the front door.

‘Ow!’ The loud yell was accompanied by an ominous clattering noise. I waited at the top of the stairs, my body frozen in a wince.

‘What the hell?’

Tiptoeing down the stairs, I peered out the door to see a man untangling himself from a mountain bike, a process that was hindered by being on top of a saggy old mattress.

‘I’m so sorry!’ I gasped, trying to squash down the urge to laugh.

‘It’s bad enough having all these boxes obstructing the pavement. Next time, maybe check the coast is clear before shooting a large object out your front door,’ the man replied as he finally jerked free from the bike.

‘I was at the top of the stairs. I couldn’t see that far.’ I cringed. ‘Barely anyone ever goes past the house, so I didn’t think to call out a warning. At least you had a soft landing.’

‘Well, that’s true.’ He looked up from where he now squatted, inspecting the bike, one side of his mouth tugging up into a reluctant smile. ‘I only hope no one was filming it. Won’t do much for my reputation, that pratfall going up on the Bigley Facebook page.’

I’d recognised him when he looked up, causing embarrassment to race up my chest and further flood my overheated cheeks . It was Mr May, from the forest. Steph would have a field day. He was wearing navy shorts and a white T-shirt. The shadow of a beard highlighted his jawline, and, standing this close to him, I could see that his eyes were light brown, like honey.

Straightening up, with a satisfied pat of his bike saddle, he glanced at the pile of huge boxes. ‘New bed?’

I nodded, acutely aware of my dirty and dishevelled state.

‘Is there an old frame to follow this mattress?’

‘Yeah.’

‘Please tell me you’ve got a plan that doesn’t further risk injury to a passing member of the public.’

‘I’ll… close the front door.’

He shook his head, smiling, before glancing at his watch. ‘Come on, show me the way. Oh,’ he held out one hand, ‘I’m Sam.’

I tentatively stretched mine out to shake his, before we both saw the state of the glove and changed our minds. ‘Ollie. I moved in last week.’