The ability to compartmentalize will never be part of my skill set, and I’ve lost count of the number of scenarios that have run through my head about how the evening is going to pan out. About how I want the evening to pan out. This is Ben. My builder. My Teenage Crush. My First Unrequited Love. My Widower Neighbour. Talk about ‘it’s complicated’. There’s a lot going on there.

In the end I give up trying to untangle it all and pour myself a glass of wine instead. Not too large a glass, mind you. The aim is to calm my nerves and relax me, not get me drunk before he’s even arrived. Tipping a bit back into the bottle, I head upstairs to get ready. Ben’s booked a table at a rather fancy country hotel ten miles away that’s famous for its French restaurant. It’s a chance to get dressed up and, despite my nerves, I’m quite excited. Maya has offered to babysit both Stanley and Harry, and the plan is for Ben to pick me up at 7 p.m. and drop Harry off at his house. I glance at my watch. That gives me an hour and a half to pull it together. Plenty of time. Just.

So I’m taken aback when, in the middle of showering, I suddenly hear Harry barking and realize someone’s knocking at the door. Surely that’s not Ben already? I ignore it and carrying on rinsing out the conditioner on my hair, but Harry continues barking. And now I can hear my phone ringing. Irritation turns to worry. Someone is obviously desperate to get hold of me. Quickly turning off the shower, I grab my dressing gown and hurry downstairs. Whatever it is, it must be urgent.

‘Hang on, just coming.’

Calling out, I grab Harry’s collar and fling open the front door. I’m half expecting it to be Ben telling me that Maya can’t babysit and he’s going to have to cancel. Or, much worse, Valentine with bad news about Gisele.

‘Hello, Liv.’

It’s David.

Lost for words, I stare at him in disbelief. He is literally the last person I ever expected to see standing on my doorstep.

‘What on earth are you doing here?’ I finally find my voice.

‘Will gave me your address. Under duress, I might add.’

He shifts uncomfortably and pulls up his collar. I notice it’s raining. Next door new holidaymakers have arrived at the rental cottage and are unloading several children and a dog. They catch my eye and I nod hello and make some cheery comment about the weather.

This is surreal.

‘Well, aren’t you going to ask me in?’

I turn back to David, who’s woefully underdressed for the Yorkshire climate. He looks so out of place here, in his designer clothes and expensive shoes. I feel discombobulated. As if two worlds are colliding.

‘Why should I invite you in?’

‘I’ve been driving for seven hours.’

‘It’s only five and a half from London.’