There really is no comparison between who I am dating and who I dream of having a relationship with one day. As I sit in the kitchen of this modern mansion I can’t believe I live in, I take a sip of mild Italian coffee, Caprice’s favourite, and think what it would be like to live in this place not just as a nanny but as an equal partner. I imagine yet again what it would be like to sleep with you. We stand eyes locked. You are wearing pale toffee-coloured chinos, Tod shoes, and a white Gant shirt. I lean towards you. You take me in your arms and kiss me.

I am interrupted by the kitchen door opening. You’re standing there in your old towelling dressing gown. The Gant-clad Adonis disappears. The real Adonis is in front of me, even more attractive than in my imagination, running your fingers through tousled hair, blinking in the early morning sunlight. You nod your head.

‘Good morning,’ you mutter.

‘I’ve made fresh coffee if you’d like some. Caprice’s Italian.’

‘Sounds good.’

‘Sit down. I’ll pour it.’

You flop into a chair at the kitchen table and sigh. You have bags under your eyes, as if you haven’t slept. Your argument with Saffron must have really got to you. I pour coffee into your favourite mug, carefully adding the right amount of milk, so that it is the perfect strength for you, the strength you always have. I place it gently in front of you, leaning down to expose as much of my breasts as I can manage from my low-cut top. I see you glance. A quick subtle glance. Nothing lecherous. I want to pull you towards me and hold you against them. Desire rises in my stomach.

‘You’re up early, what’s up?’ I ask.

You shake your head. ‘Nothing, I just couldn’t sleep.’

‘Any particular reason?’

You shrug. ‘It just happens sometimes.’

I smile inside. Arguments with Saffron are what happen sometimes. Arguments about Aiden. This is it. Soon I will have an opportunity with you. It was too early last time. But your kindness towards me has continued. You have even implied you would pay for me to do a gardening course at Wisley next year, if I stay working for the family. Why would you want to do that? I watch you sipping your coffee and looking out of the window. A cloudless August day, piercing blue sky. Too hot already, even with the back door open. If only I could take a cold shower with you. You could soap my sweat away, and then we could make love. An idea comes to me.