On the off chance that it is me, I make an effort to tidy my cottage. The crocheted blanket goes under the bed, along with a pile of clothes and underwear. I open the door and all the windows to air the place out. I splash detergent around in the bathroom. I open a black bin bag and throw many things into it. Then I wash the dishes, wipe the counters and put things out of sight in the kitchen.

The place looks better. It is now merely shabby, rather than dirty. I buy vegetables, cut them up and serve them on a plate with hummus for dipping. I can offer him coffee, but it is instant, so he might decline.

The hardest part is stripping off my suit of armour. I refuse to greet Eugene in a long skirt over tights and cycling shorts, paired with a high-necked blouse and a cardigan. But without my uniform I feel exposed and naked, like a white grub flailing in the light when you lift a rock off its back.

I put on a pair of jeans and a long-sleeved top. They feel inadequate. I have to remind myself that I am not trying to keep everyone out today. There is someone I want to allow in.

Or do I?

I am struggling to access that surge of libido I felt a few weeks ago. Eugene will be arriving shortly, and I’m not ready. Perhaps seeing him in all his physical perfection will do the trick. But it’s not really about him. It’s about me. The engine of my libido is self-propelled. If I can’t get it to fire, this will be just another insipid conversation over coffee that reminds us both that we don’t get along.

I close my eyes and try to locate my inner heat. I am Shadrach, Mesach and Abednego preparing to enter the fiery furnace. But when I crank the door open, I find only cold, dead ashes. I keep seeing my father’s eyes colliding with mine over the shoulders of my attackers. It’s ruining the mood.

Is the human libido like a car battery? If you don’t use it, do you lose it? Do the power cells become depleted until they are impossible to recharge, and the whole battery is an inert lump? At least you can replace a car battery. You can take out the old one, throw it away, and replace it with a powerful new version.

I imagine myself lifting my old libido out of my pelvis. It is chilly and covered in dust. There are cobwebs hanging from its sides like tattered curtains. I discard it on the dust heap of things unremembered and unregretted. Then I fit myself with a shiny new libido. It is warm to the touch and hums with stored energy. My pelvis feels cosier already, and a gentle warmth starts to thaw the neglected parts of my body.