‘It’s a lovely thing to have,’ I say, feeling a need to reassure him that she was wrong.

‘I used to bring the girls to the park. You see it a lot, don’t you? Dads on Saturdays with their kids. That was me. This was our favourite spot. I went ahead and organised the bench without telling my wife. It’s my special place where I can be with my daughter. I find it so peaceful here.’

‘It is.’

We sit for a moment looking out. I notice the time and realise I better get going.

‘I have to get to an appointment,’ I say, standing up. ‘Thanks. Again. I hope your weekend is OK and not too stressful. Families are hard.’

‘They are. Bye Ruby.’

‘Bye.’

Something tells me he’ll be there a while today.

I have a wax appointment at ten a.m. I travel across London on the underground at rush hour to get there, I am now very hot. I underestimated the weather and wore velvet instead of cotton. The waiting room is packed, everyone is young and, to my self-deprecating eye, extremely beautiful. I walk purposefully to the receptionist. She is young, too.

‘Yes, I have an appointment at ten,’ I say, feeling like an old hag.

‘Great, and your name?’

‘Ruby.’

‘Ruby … yup, there you are. OK, you’re in for a full body today?’

I can’t believe she just did that. Any number of these people could have heard. I can’t speak. I just stand still, like a pillock.

‘Is that right, Ruby? A full-body wax?’

Oh my God, she did it again. Is this woman thick?

She needs an answer from me. There are two women in the queue behind me, why is this place so busy?

I am so desperate for this wax. I have to be brave. I nod.

‘OK great, you’ll be with Pete today, he’ll be right out.’

‘Pardon?’ I ask, I must have misheard her.

‘Pete, he will be your technician today.’

‘Pete? Is that short for Petra?’

‘No, Peter. He does our full-body waxes. You’ll love him, he’s very quick.’

‘He’s a bloody man!’

‘Oh, God yeah, sorry. Don’t worry, he’s gay.’

She looks at me as if she just solved all my problems.

‘I can’t do that, is there a woman available?’ I ask. I have done an enormous amount of mental preparation to come here today and I have found peace with using a new technician, but not Pete.

‘No, sorry,’ she says, getting impatient. ‘Will you take a seat?’

I sit on the sofa next to a young woman in a short skirt. I look at her legs – not a single hair in sight. Why is she even here? If she knew what was going on underneath my dress, she would be sick. I might be sick.

‘Ruby,’ says a man who I presume is Pete. He is about five foot six, blond, also not hairy. I can’t put myself through this.