“A man is known to be mortal by two things: sleep and lust”

About three quarters of the way through the school party, having managed to avoid Sexy Domesticated Dad for most of the evening, I see him approach from across the other side of the room, preparing to insinuate himself into the midst of my conversation with Yummy Mummy No 1.

“I have discovered my inner eco-warrior,” Yummy Mummy No 1 proudly proclaims.

“The fact that you’ve started walking to your pilates class doesn’t mean that you’re helping the environment, because you shouldn’t really have driven there in the first place,” I reply a little impatiently.

“Don’t sound so puritanical, Lucy, it doesn’t suit you,” laughs Sexy Domesticated Dad.

“And I’ve bought most of Stella McCartney’s eco-friendly clothing range,” insists Yummy Mummy No 1. “And I took it home in my G-Wiz.”

I throw my arms up in the air in despair and knock Sexy Domesticated Dad’s glass of red wine down the front of his white T-shirt.

“Significant spillage,” he says, looking down at the soaking shirt.

“Sorry,” I mutter. “I’ll go and find a nice organic towel to mop it up.”

I leave the sitting room and head for a large cloakroom just beside the front door. It’s not until I’m inside that I notice Sexy Domesticated Dad has followed me. He closes the door and leans against it looking dangerously dishevelled.

“Have you been avoiding me?” he asks, gulping down the rest of his wine without taking his eyes off me.

“It seemed the right instinct,” I say, a little warily.

“You must have good instincts then,” he says.

“Sometimes,” I say.

There is a point in a relationship when what is left unsaid becomes more important than what is said, and I realise that I have just reached this juncture with Sexy Domesticated Dad. He puts out a hand and traces a line with his finger from the side of my neck steadily down towards my chest. I lean back against the wall and give him access to the lower regions of my neck. He puts one hand on the top of my arm and the other inside the top of my dress at the shoulder. Then he leans towards me and we are obviously about to kiss when there is a knock on the door.

“Lucy, is that you in there?” asks Celebrity Dad. The knocking is so persistent that I’m worried other guests might notice, so I go to the door and open it slightly.

“Sshh,” I say, putting a finger to my lips.

“You don’t need to be quiet at a party,” says Celebrity Dad, looking inside the room, “unless, of course, you’ve got something or someone to hide.”

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