I have never owned a dog. My parents were cat people, and I was brought up to regard any hound as potentially dangerous and, as Mum put it, ‘likely to turn’. But I know Bobby well. Turning is not in his nature. He is a delight, pottering around our house in his schnoodly way, and whining at the bathroom door when I go to the loo to the point where it’s easier to let him come in and watch me. While it’s a little bizarre, it’s also heartening to be needed so much that someone wants to gaze at you while you’re doing your business.

Penny and Hamish have gone for a jaunt on his boat, and Nick is apparently out of town filming, hence her asking if we could step in and help out. Naturally, Izzy and I were delighted. Unlike Ludo, Bobby didn’t bring foul-smelling toothpaste and hasn’t demanded that I sweat over the pancake pan for fifteen hours. As Nick intends to be back late tonight, the plan is for him to come round in the morning to pick up our canine guest. Before I left work on Friday, I managed to arrange to take a day’s holiday tomorrow, ostensibly to let a tradesman in but really to knock my proposal into shape.

I am still a little mortified about Nick witnessing me shouting about my brilliance on the kitchen table, but what the heck; he makes ‘human interest’ documentaries, and I was certainly being very ‘human’ and possibly even ‘interesting’. And I’m sure he’s seen worse.

It has also occurred to me several times that he is extremely attractive; i.e. fanciably attractive, which is a bit of a shocker to me. Not because I expected him not to be, with a good-looking woman like Penny as his mother. But from the sole picture she’d shown me, all I’d glimpsed was an indistinct lean, tall and beardy figure, taken from some distance across a beach. I hadn’t been prepared for the loveliness of his clean-shaven face.

Since Andy left, I had assumed I’d never register a man’s attractiveness again. And the idea of involving myself with anyone, of letting down my guard and allowing someone into my life – at least, as anything more than a platonic friend – is too bizarre for me to even contemplate. I mean, practically, how could I ever think of introducing ‘someone new’ (argh!) into Izzy’s life? Hey, darling, this is my friend Stephen! The very concept of throwing an adult male into the mix seems as bizarre and unnecessary as having a hot tub installed on our patio. I’m sure it’s enjoyable to have one, and fun to start off with, but the novelty would wear off and pretty soon its maintenance would outweigh the positives.