When I arrive at Elliott’s there’s a commotion. Vans are parked on the gravel, there’s banging and crashing and workmen. Lots of workmen.

I pull my bike up next to a Toyota Estate I don’t recognize and head inside.

For some reason, confusion about what’s going on prevents me from announcing my arrival, so rather than shouting ‘hello’ as I normally would as I enter, I simply step over the threshold and stare.

The place is a mess.

A thick layer of grime covers every available surface despite the plastic sheathing which I walk head first into as I exit the kitchen. The almighty crashing is coming from upstairs, and I can hear Elliott chatting in softer tones in between crashes.

A choke catches in my throat as the dust settles. I cough but he doesn’t notice me among the kerfuffle and continues speaking.

I follow his voice, glancing to the left as I reach the top of the stairs. I’ve worked out what he’s doing and with expectation held in my bated breath, I push my negative feelings to one side. He’s trying. We may have work to do on his understanding, but he is certainly trying. That is in no doubt. And if we look at where we were one week ago, then his progress is massive. We have a chance.

I find him in the small bedroom toward the back of the house. He doesn’t see me when I first poke my head around the corner of the door. Rather, he carries on discussing the pros and cons of whether he needs to keep his horse riding paraphernalia.

“I can’t really ride much at the moment because if I get injured I can’t drive. It’s a clause in my contract. I'm not allowed to ski either.” He points toward another batch of bulky equipment in black zippered bags.

“My suggestion if this isn’t something you use would be to get rid of it and use the space for something more valuable to your current circumstances.” The woman is average looking. Average height, average brown hair cropped in to her neck at the back with an average looking face devoid of make-up. She’s dressed in practical jeans and polo top.

She’s also kneeling in front of a huge pile of Elliott’s crap.

As Elliott nods, he turns his head. It’s only the slightest of movements but it’s enough for him to catch me out of the corner of his eye. My heart floods at the defiance of love. When it is true, it never ceases to stop searching for what is right, no matter what we try to throw in its way. I most make a movement because his head swivels back, his eyes bulging as they take me in.

The reunion should be more awkward, but I can’t stop the grin from splitting my face. My eyes glisten with the effort he’s going to. He reads the joy radiating from my every pore and his cautious glaze melts. Without thinking, our bodies seal together and we kiss. There’s no doubt it’s going to happen. Our mouths meet, our lips part and our tongues intertwine in less than a second. Our hands grab behind the other, pulling each other closer. The pressure between our mouths rises as our teeth graze and our lips widen allowing our tongues to delve deeper.

The woman clears her throat behind Elliott’s shoulder. “I’m sorry. Should I leave?” She pushes her long fringe behind her ear displaying crimson cheeks.

I’m stiff and grip El to me as we twist at our waists until the throbbing calms and we can once again part.

“I’m sorry.” Elliott’s fair skin tone matches the same crimson as his helper. “This is Janice. She’s helping me get rid of some things that I no longer need so that I can create more of a shared space for us.”

The woman smiles, but her eyes are still focused on the carpet.

“Hi. I’m sorry to interrupt,” I stammer through hot breath. This pulsing in my crotch is not subsiding.

We stand, clutching each other, a silence hanging awkwardly in the air the only sound being her stockinged feet shuffling over the padded flooring.

Eventually Elliott replies. “Sure, that would be great. I’ll be down in a moment.”

The woman nods. She knows this will take more than a moment.