“Oh, for….” Tim flinched and leant away. “That bloody…” He met my gaze. “Yes, I know he’s a brilliant dog, but his timing’s lousy.”

Privately, I thought Elvis’s timing was perfect. I still didn’t know how I felt about Tim, and an uneasy feeling was slithering up my spine, telling me I was letting him take control the way I’d done with Jeff. Did I fancy Tim, or was I sex-starved after years of abstinence and my husband’s manipulations and ready to snog just about anyone?

What would the old Marnie do?

I realised I didn’t know. The old Marnie had no experience and nothing to compare Tim with. Then I thought of Paul and my insides melted. If only he was here with me instead. The thought of kissing Paul brought colour to my face.

“Mmmm,” Tim stepped forward again and wrapped his arms around my waist. “I know. I feel the same. Maybe we can –”

He got no further as I broke away, snatched the keys and opened the door. I was halfway through when Tim pushed the door wide, allowing Elvis to dash past us onto the lawn. “What…?” I tried to turn, but Tim grabbed my waist again and steered me towards the stairs. He kicked the door shut behind us, arms still around me. “Hey, Elvis is out there!”

“I know,” Tim murmured in my ear, climbing the first stair and pulling me along with him.

“You could have hurt him slamming the door like that. What’re you doing?”

“What we both want.” Tim nuzzled my ear, and I jerked away.

“What the hell?” Anger gave me the strength to wrest his arms from around me and push him away. He stumbled back onto the hall carpet and looked at me in surprise. I felt panic flood my chest. “Keep away from me.” My voice shook. “I don’t know where you got the idea I wanted this – who do you think you are?”

“I…Marnie…” Tim was lost for words.

I wasn’t. “Just sod off. Go on, get out of here and don’t come back.”

“I wasn’t…I wouldn't have hurt you…oh, God, I thought…I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

“Just sodding sod off.”

The frantic yelping was now on the other side of the door. I hesitated, then pushed roughly past Tim and let Elvis in. I held the door wide and glared at my unwanted guest until he sidled past me onto the porch, and then I slammed the door behind him.

Elvis jumped in fright.

“Sorry, sweetheart.” I bent and hugged him. “Good riddance to bad rubbish.” I headed to the kitchen and switched the radio off and the kettle on. I gave Elvis more treats and then stood in a daze, reliving the evening in lurid technicolour detail and wondering how it had gone so badly wrong as fast as it had.

I should have listened to my instincts, not Sue, and cancelled the whole thing when I had the chance. The kettle boiled, I made herbal tea and carried the mug through to the living room. I was closing the curtains when I heard voices next door and saw the blue Land Rover pulling away from the kerb. “Double good riddance. And don’t come back.”

I jerked the curtains together and flopped onto the settee. Elvis came in, climbed up beside me, and we sat in peaceful silence while I banished all thoughts of Tim Benedict from my head. Instead, I found myself dwelling on Paul’s brown eyes and the tense atmosphere between him and Steph.

Paul and I had laughed at the same things and shared unspoken communication. And he’d rescued me from Tim’s clumsy attempts at…what, exactly? I concluded that Tim had tried to assert ownership of me: he was subtle and clever, but fourteen years of Jeff had honed my ability to spot manipulation, even if I chose to ignore it for an easy life.

“Wait ‘til I report all this back to Sue,” I told Elvis, and he looked at me and yawned. “Am I boring you?”

My dog jumped to the floor, left the room, and I heard him going upstairs. I drank my tea and made to follow him. “Time for bed and the end of a bloody awful day.”

♦♦♦

I slept poorly and woke on Sunday morning with gritty eyes and a murderous feeling aimed at a particular actor/model. How could Tim Benedict have the audacity to assume I was happy going along with his control-freakery? I hadn’t given him any cause to think that. No, the man was an arrogant tosser who assumed all women were just gagging for him.

Well, Steph certainly had been. I smiled at the memory and wished I’d been a fly on the wall of Sea Brew the previous night when they arrived home. Although they probably had some violent insect repellent zapper or something similar, so maybe that wasn’t a good idea.

Finally, I rose, showered, dressed and went downstairs. I let Elvis out, fed the Krays, and made myself scrambled eggs on toast. I was washing up and singing ‘Killer Queen’ when the doorbell rang, and Elvis dived down the hall, barking madly.

My first thought was Sue, then I reasoned that she was stuck with Colin, and I’d promised to go to theirs. I was halfway down the hall when I had the horrible thought that it might be Tim, here to offer another half-baked apology and justify his misogynistic behaviour.

“Damn.” I slipped into the living room instead and peeped round the curtain, but my mystery visitor was standing on the porch, hidden from view. “Double damn.” I carefully opened the window a few inches and listened.

“Marnie?” It was him – sodding Tim Benedict. After I’d told him to sling his hook, the gall of the man. I heard footsteps approaching and, with a yelp, jumped away and ducked behind the settee. “Marnie, are you there?” His voice came from the window. He rapped the glass, and Elvis trotted into the room and jumped onto his hind legs at the window ledge. “Hello, boy. Is she there?”

I crouched down further, head in my hands, willing Tim to go away. Then a cold nose touched my neck, and I almost screamed.

“Elvis, where is she? Is she there?” Tim’s voice, muffled by the glass, sounded horribly near. I raised my head and saw my dog standing halfway behind the settee, rear end sticking out in full view of the window, and tail wagging madly.

“Go away,” I hissed. “Go on. Go.” I flapped a hand at Elvis, and he barked in delight.

“Marnie?” The voice moved closer. “Are you – oh, yes, I can see your hair.”

“Dammit.” I sent Elvis a bleak look, sighed heavily and struggled to my feet. Then I turned to the window and feigned surprise. “Oh, Tim. I was looking for Elvis’s squeaky chicken.”

“Can I talk to you? Please?” His face was pressed against the window, giving him a ghostly air that didn’t help my nerves. “Please let me in…or you come outside if that feels better.”

None of this felt better or, in fact, felt good at all. Tim was back doing what he did best – passive-aggressive manipulation. Maybe I should go out and knee him in the bollocks. I held this thought as I returned to the hall and opened the front door. The first thing I saw was the enormous bouquet propped against the porch wall. “Oh…God.”

I picked up the flowers, and Tim stepped forward, looking nervy and little-boy-lost, all big eyes and pursed lips, unsure how to stand or where to put his hands. Well, he wouldn’t be putting them anywhere near me, that was for sure. I sighed and weighed my options. Whatever happened, I didn’t want Mr Simpkins gathering any more evidence against me - or Laura and Gary passing by and getting an earful.

“Come inside.” I stood back, watched his face light up, and tried not to react. We stood facing each other in the hall, and I remembered the moment before the aborted kiss and how I’d started to feel something…although I hadn’t acknowledged precisely what that feeling was. Semi-drunken lust, probably.

My dog danced around us and then charged down the hall to the kitchen and returned with a tennis ball. He laid it at Tim’s feet and looked hopefully at him. When Tim bent to pick it up, Elvis snatched the ball away and ran back to the kitchen.

“Out-manoeuvred by a dog.” Tim straightened, grinned ruefully at me and made a face. “So…sodding sod off.”

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“Yes.” And then, suddenly, the charged atmosphere dissipated around me, and I felt ridiculous. What had he done, really? Misread the signals…and there had been that kiss. Almost. Tim was a good-looking guy, and I’d responded to him, even if it was only for a moment – I couldn’t deny that. And then I turned into a deranged harpy and threw him out.

I’d overreacted: allowed nerves to get the better of me, and made an awkward first date ten times worse. The situation was new for both of us - plus, I’d never imagined dating other men. I thought I was married, settled, and beyond all the uncertainty and the conflicting emotions sparked off by starting over again with someone new.

I never wanted this.

To my horror, I felt tears forming. I blinked furiously but couldn’t stem the flow.

“Ah, Marnie.” Tim’s voice was soft: he stepped forward and wrapped his arms around me once more, but I laid my head on his shoulder and sobbed this time. “It’s okay, it’s okay…the shirt’s drip-dry. Ssssh…shhh…it’s okay.” He rocked me gently while I slowly hiccoughed into silence.

I stood back and saw Elvis nearby, tail swishing at half-mast. “It’s okay, boy, I’m fine.” I crouched down, and Elvis trotted over and let me cuddle him. I looked up at Tim. “Fancy a cuppa?”

“I thought you’d never ask. In fact, that’s the sole reason I came in here last night. All that stuff about getting you upstairs to bed? Pah. I made it up.”

“I thought as much,” I said as I led the way to the kitchen. Then I took a deep breath. “Would you say sorry to your dad from me? For the thing about your mum. And the Shi-Tzu.”

“Consider it done.”

“Thanks.”

Elvis whined softly, then crossed the room to the treat tin and gazed at me. I opened the container, removed two chew sticks and fed them to him. “Not a word,” I said to Tim.

“Wouldn’t dream of commenting.” He sat at the table on the same chair Paul had used and moved the vase of Reg’s prize blooms to one side. I placed the new flowers in the sink, then turned to the biscuit cupboard and brought out a packet of chocolate digestives. As I set them on a plate, Tim said, “Look, Marnie, I’m sorry if I was a bit of an idiot last night. I was nervous, okay? And that guy, Paul, made me feel worse.”

“Paul did? How?” I picked up a digestive and took a bite, watching Tim.

“The way he was looking at you. I just…he’s handsome, and you seemed to get on…I felt a bit…insecure.”

I tried not to look amazed. Tim made a face, avoided my gaze, and stared at the table. I’d thought he was so confident and blasé in the hotel, but…maybe he’d been acting. If so, he was better than I’d given him credit for.

“Paul’s a nice guy,” I said. “But he’s living with star-struck Steph. I only met him last week, and I only met you three days ago.”

“I know, I know.” Tim watched me throw tea bags in the teapot and add boiling water. “I just feel we clicked and…I like you.”

“I like you too, but I need to take this slowly. Very slowly.” This reminded me of Nicola’s deluded mother and the boyfriend who was really my husband. “Let’s just get to know each other and see where it takes us.”

“Good idea.” Tim nodded.

Wow. The new Marnie was ace at relationships, and the old version of me would be impressed as hell. I poured tea, offered milk and sugar, and sat at the table. We sipped our drinks and ate biscuits, and I relaxed again.

“This film part is a good one,” Tim said. “In fact, you might be able to help me with the audition.”

“Me? How?”

“Well…don’t take this the wrong way, but the part is a sociopathic conman, and I think your husband would be a good case study.”

“What’s wrong about that? My husband is a liar and a cheat who strung me along for years, and I never suspected until now.” I took a bite of chocolate digestive and frowned. “No…not strictly true. I knew what he was, at some level, but not completely. It was easier to ignore my doubts and carry on, and he was good at hiding the real Jeff Hope from me.”

“How should I play him?”

“Charming and funny with a hint of steel below the surface. If I was writing a book, that’s how I’d describe my husband. He’s different things to different people, and he knew how to push my buttons and manipulate me into doing what he wanted without me realising it.”

“And you thought that was what I was doing last night.” Tim cringed. “I really am sorry, Marnie.”

“I know. Let’s forget it.”

“New start?” He raised his mug in a toast.

“New start,” I said, clinking mugs and thinking back to the graveyard with Sue and how I’d said exactly the same thing then – although this wasn’t the new start I’d envisaged. Still, it was a change from the old Marnie Hope. Could I now be Marnie Hopeful?

“Maybe I should go back to my maiden name,” I thought aloud. “Brightweather.”

“It’s a bit of a mouthful.” Tim looked suddenly awkward. “Sorry. I was thinking from an actor’s point of view and a stage name, and Marnie Hope has a nicer ring to it…but, of course, it’s your choice.”

“Yes, it is. I can call myself anything I like, and I might change my name to Marnie Mouse.”

“You’re no mouse.” Tim shook his head. “Marnie Moose is more like it.” Then he stopped, horrified. “Oh, no, I don’t mean you look like a moose - just the size…er…not that you’re…um….”

“As a matter of fact, I like mooses. Luckily for you. Do you often suffer from verbal diarrhoea?”

“Regularly…to coin a pun.”

“Once again, don’t give up the day job.”

We chatted, drank tea and ate chocolate digestives. Tim impersonated Mr Simpkins, making me laugh so hard I inhaled biscuit crumbs and coughed for about ten minutes. Then the doorbell rang.

“That’s probably my friend, Sue,” I said as Elvis ran, barking, to the front door. “I’m going over to hers later this morning.”

I followed my dog to the door and opened it, and there was Paul Felix - large as life and twice as gorgeous. Immediately, I pulled the door towards me and stood against it, shielding myself from the kitchen while Elvis launched himself at Paul, pinning him to the porch wall. “Oof. Hey, Elvis.” Paul scratched Elvis behind his ears and looked at me. “Hi, Marnie. I thought I’d look in on you and see how you were after your sudden departure last night.”

I cleared my throat, horribly aware of Tim’s presence at the other end of the hall, and spoke quietly. “Paul, thanks, yes…the evening didn’t pan out the way I’d hoped. It was the first time I’d been out since Jeff…I’m sorry.”

“There’s no need to apologise to me.” He held my gaze. ““I noticed you’d taken your wedding ring off. I’m only sorry about the circumstances, and if they’d been different….”

The door swung back before I could ask what he meant, and I fell into Tim’s arms with a shriek.

“Paul, hello, I thought it was you.” Tim beamed at the chef, one hand holding the door, the other arm wrapped around my waist. I stared at Tim in disbelief and then, irritated beyond measure, twisted from his grasp, banging my elbow on the porch wall. I gasped in pain and cradled my funny bone while Paul tried to look pleased about the situation.

“Hi, Tim,” Paul said. “Just called round to see how things were.”

“Come in.” Tim stood back and made a sweeping gesture, and I glared at him. How dare he invite people into my home? Not that Paul counted as ‘people’, but Tim was doing it again. Taking charge.

I glanced at Paul and realised he’d clocked my reaction. “I can’t stop,” he said, backing away. “I’m on my way to the supermarket.”

“You’ve got time for a quick coffee?” I said, trying to convey ‘I didn’t mean that, it’s all Tim’s fault’ with my eyes, but Paul shook his head.

“Sorry. But, thanks.”

“At least we survived last night,” Tim said. “We should get a medal.”

“Yeah, or a certificate at the very least.” Paul waved, paused to play with Elvis and then walked to the gate. My dog accompanied him and looked disappointed when Paul left the garden.

He wasn’t the only one.

We returned to the kitchen, and I sat down and faced Tim. “Please do not invite people into my house.”

“I thought you liked Paul. He’s a nice guy, isn’t he? Don’t worry; I’m over the whole jealousy/insecure thing.”

“It’s not that.” My mouth tried to form the right words as I struggled to follow Tim’s thought process. Did the guy have any self-awareness? “It’s just…it’s not your place.”

“I know. It’s your place, your gran left it to you. When did she die?”

“What? She’s not dead!”

“I know.” He grinned. “Inappropriate humour strikes again. Sorry. By the way, did you find the chicken?”

“Huh?” I turned a blank face towards him.

“Elvis’s squeaky chicken. That’s why you were behind the settee.”

“Ah.” My blank face turned into a red one. “Yes. It’s around here somewhere. Elvis, where is your chicken?” Elvis ran across the room and picked it up. He dropped the chicken at Tim’s feet, and then when Tim bent down, Elvis grabbed the toy and ran off with it.

Tim sighed. “I fell for it again.” He listened to the noises emanating from the hall. “Sounds like he’s torturing Sooty’s mate Sweep.”

I stood and cleared the tea things from the table, hoping Tim would take the hint and leave. When he stayed where he was, I busied myself finding another vase and arranging the bouquet. There was no room for it on the table, so I placed the flowers in front of the window. The Kray Pigeons fluttered onto the sill and peered in at me, and I found myself wishing I could hire them to persuade my guest to move. Threaten his kneecaps or something.

Finally, I turned, leaned against the sink and asked Tim when his audition was.

“Tuesday morning.”

“Is it in London?” I hoped I sounded casual and not hopeful, especially when Tim nodded. “You’ll have to go back and prepare for it.”

“I know. Bummer for us.”

I made a noncommittal noise. There was no us, and there might never be because I felt relieved that Tim was returning to London.

“You know, I wasn’t going to mention it.” Tim looked serious and concerned but managed a gentle smile. “But I saw you’ve taken your wedding ring off, and that’s a big step.”

I knew that Tim had heard Paul’s comment and hadn’t noticed my ring was gone the night before at the hotel; he’d been too busy showing off to Steph and acting like we were Couple of the Year.

“It’s fine,” I said. “I prefer silver jewellery, anyway.”

“But gold’s special, isn’t it?”

“Not to me.” I took Elvis’s leash, a packet of treats and a handful of poo bags and shoved them in my bag. Tim rose from the table, and then he laughed.

“Kinky.” He pointed to the black silk rope hanging on the hook where Elvis’s leash had been.

“It’s a long story.”

“Save it for next time.”

I looked at him and thought, There’ll be no next time for you, mate.