When Michael first mentioned a trip to ‘The Cabin’, Carol unavoidably has a vision of the little corner shop, owned for many years by Rita Fairclough, and one of the key locations in Coronation Street. Carol had been momentarily bowled over by a wave of nostalgia which, fortunately, she had managed to keep to herself. It wouldn’t have set the right tone in the context of a return to dating in her late fifties.

Her kids, though generally supportive, had warned her and backed it up with toe-curling examples both from their own adventures.

Alan, the actuary, had unfortunately been all too keen to explain in some detail what an actuary ‘actually’ did. Hilarious. Will, more promising on the face of it, described himself as working in film and television, which sadly turned out to mean that he conducted the studio tours for the Welsh soap opera, Pobol Y Cwm. He was well versed on every plot nuance for the last forty years.

Now Michael. Quite a hearty outdoors type, but she enjoyed the walks that they had done together and now he seemed to want to take it to another level. Why not she thought? Perhaps there would be a chance to see what lay beneath the impressive collection of gilets?

The Cabin was nothing fancy warned Michael, but it was very peaceful. It had been in his family for a long time and they had gradually equipped it for off-grid living. Getting there involved parking in a forestry commission car park and trekking just over a mile. They could collect firewood on the way. All in all, it had a certain appeal and they settled on a weekend in early October when the leaves would be turning nicely.

The ‘trek’ wasn’t a great start. Not Michael’s fault but the undergrowth through which the path had to pass had been allowed to grow very dense by the uncooperative landowners. When they arrived at the cabin it was getting dark and the view wasn’t readily apparent. Inside it smelt of, well, onion.

Courteously Michael suggested she went and ‘freshened up’ which he got a few things ready. Carol wondered whether she’d find the path in the dark but decided to go along with it for now. She lay on the bed for a bit and fell asleep.

When she woke up she could hear music. Brahms? She got up quickly, realizing that she had been quite rude and when she entered the main room of the cabin she nearly burst into tears. Not only was the soothing music playing on some portable device that Michael had rigged up, but the small table had lit candles flickering in the pitch black and the smell on onion had been replaced by something so delicious that Carol’s stomach rumbled. A fire in the wood burner gave off a lovely glow. The gilet had been replaced by a really quite nice cashmere sweater.

‘You must have been tired,’ said Michael. ‘I hope you’re hungry, I think I may have made too much.’

When Jeff had died, she hadn’t really thought she could have those kinds of feelings anymore. Michael passed her a glass of wine and she sat back with a small sigh. Early days…