I try not to grit my teeth. I try to smile. ‘Please help me!’

‘Wow, you really are getting good at this stuff!’

‘What?’

‘Pleading for help, giving me the chance to act all strong and manly. Are you sure you don’t mind me taking notes?’

‘I am not pleading!’ I should have kicked him. I knew I should. Karate Kid all the way. ‘Don’t you dare write any of this down!’

‘I mean,’ he sinks down onto his haunches and looks up at me, his head tilted to one side, ‘we all love an independent woman, right? But feeling needed, indispensable, well, woo.’ He shoots his hand up in the air, and Hugo flinches. ‘Ego right up there moment. Me Tarzan!’ He winks at me, beats his chest and Hugo trembles. I lock my knees. I am not going to wobble. ‘Aww mate, sorry.’ Noah leans in and fondles his ears, and just like that the tension goes from his big dog body.

Hugo has fallen in love.

‘So, I take it this is Hugo?’

‘Yup.’ I’m fine when he’s not directing his kisses at me. Absolutely fine. Just a little bit weak.

‘And this isn’t some weirdo planned game?’

‘Nope. Dropping the lesson stuff for a moment and helping would be much appreciated.’ I’ve felt surprisingly more relaxed since he arrived: reassured, but awkward. Like you are if you’re wrapped round a tree in public view.

‘You got it. Hang on while I work my manly magic.’

‘I can’t do anything but hang on!’

He chuckles. I’d forgotten what a sexy, disturbing sound it was. Robbie never chuckled like that.

I do actually want to scream out ‘hurry up my boob is getting bark rub’ but I don’t. That would be flirtatious and possibly encourage the type of response I don’t have an answer to.

I wish I had a thicker bra on.

‘Let go of the end.’ Noah gently prises the leash out of my fingers – which seem to have developed the digit equivalent of lockjaw – unwraps Hugo and gently strokes his head, then runs the palm of his hand over his large ears. I wish he’d do that to me. The head bit, not ears, I need soothing. I am more traumatised than Hugo, I’m sure I am.

‘Are you a vet or something?’ I ask, surreptitiously rubbing my boob as we set off down the path. Hugo has transformed into the perfect pooch. Totally chilled. He is plodding along at Noah’s side with not a care in the world. A noisy kid whizzes by on a scooter, dragging a balloon in their wake and he doesn’t as much as flinch. Why do some people breeze through life, and the rest of us have to feel as if we’re wading through treacle half the time?

‘No, an architect,’ he says, one eyebrow raised.

‘Oh yes, of course you are!’ How could I forget the only fact I knew about him? My cheeks, which had chilled down to normal temperature, heat up to a gentle glow.