The Last Woman He'd Ever Date. Liz Fielding

got from knocks, scrapes, contact with hot metal. A mechanic’s hands… ‘Ballet?’ he asked, looking up, catching her staring. ‘Horses?’

      ‘Not ballet,’ she said quickly. ‘She loves horses, but I can’t afford to indulge her. To be honest, I don’t care what she chooses, just as long as there is a stage between now and boys. They grow up so quickly these days.’

      ‘They always did, Claire.’

      ‘Did they? I must have missed that stage. Too much homework, I suppose.’ And not enough freedom to hang around the village, giggling with the other girls, dressed to attract the boys. Not that they’d have welcomed her. The girls, anyway. She’d received sideways looks from the boys, but no one had been brave enough to make a move… ‘The local girls my age seemed so much more grown up.’ So much more knowing.

      ‘You appear to have caught up.’

      She shook her head. ‘You never get that back.’ She’d still been hopelessly naïve at eighteen, believing sex and love were the same thing. Not wanting to think about that, she said, ‘I’m taking Ally to the DIY store at the weekend to look around, see what catches her eye.’

      ‘Shouldn’t you wait and see what the new owner has in mind before you part with more hard cash on a house you don’t own?’

      ‘A few rolls of wallpaper won’t break the bank.’ And decorating would keep her mind off it. ‘When he sees what a great tenant I am,’ she added, ‘he’ll probably beg me to stay.’

      He didn’t comment, but instead turned another chair to face her, covered it with a towel and rested her dripping foot on it.

      ‘Shouldn’t you be at work?’ she asked, as he tipped the dirty water down the sink and rinsed the bowl before refilling it with clean water to which he added antiseptic. Anything to stop thinking about the way his hands had felt on her foot, her ankle. How good it felt to be cared for.

      The big hole that was missing not just from Ally’s life, but her own.