We had booked a holiday cottage for a week over on the east coast. It was around one hundred yards from the sea and slightly less from a decent chippy, an Indian restaurant and a Chinese. We also had booked one of those beach-edge chalets for a few days, so even if it was showery, we could stay dry, make ourselves a cup of tea, and that sort of thing. Masha, my mother in law, was to join us and have the spare room at the cottage.

Mica was adamant that her mum would not get in the way. I wasn’t so sure, but I was determined not to let her get to me. This was a week away from home, away from work, just relaxation. I could pretty much ignore Masha for a week.

The cottage was quite small; there was a kitchen with a tiny table and stools, a bath cum shower room and a sitting room downstairs. Upstairs was a room with twin beds and the main bedroom with a large double and an ensuite toilet. As I said, quite small, but it was all we needed. Masha could choose which bed she wanted in the twin room, and Mica and I could just have our normal sides in the bed in the main bedroom.

We had come in what they call ‘mid-season’. Most things are open, but the kids are still at school; places are busy, just not ridiculously busy, and prices are tolerable. The weather was forecast to be sunny with showers for the whole week, so the beach chalet would come into its own.

We arrived in good time and emptied the car, taking all the food into the kitchen. Even though we planned to eat out or do takeaways, there was still breakfast and lunch, and then snacks and drinks too. And then our clothes up to the bedroom and toiletries to the bath/shower rooms. We were sat in the lounge drinking tea when Masha arrived. Mica went and helped her carry her stuff in; I took her suitcase up to her room. Mica and I had just used carrier bags for our clothing, easier to pack in the car, but Masha was very old school and preferred a proper suitcase.

I put the suitcase on one of the two beds; I didn’t know which one Masha would be sleeping in, so I just picked one; she could adjust as she saw fit. I went back to my tea and left them to it; eventually they came down, and Masha sat in the chair opposite me. I was wearing a Simon polo shirt and shorts; Mica was in a simple dress, and Masha was wearing a sundress. A sundress that revealed her underwear as she sat opposite. Oh, I wished I hadn’t seen her underwear; it put all kinds of things into my head, things that I shouldn’t think.

Trying very hard to remember the names of previous World Cup winners and thus reduce the unwanted swelling in my groin, I tried to make small talk with Masha about her garden, but as I know very little about plants, the conversation soon went beyond my capability.

“You don’t know much about gardens and plants and horticulture, do you, Paul?”

“Pretty much nothing, Masha, but it seemed rude to just sit in silence staring at you.”

“Yes, I spotted the staring.”

“Ah.”

“It’s okay. I shan’t mention it to my daughter.”

“Oh. Right, thank you, Masha.”

She smiled and then turned slightly away so that her legs were more side-on to me, probably more appropriate for when Mica came in, as she would sit next to me and would see what I could see.

Before dinner we wandered along to the front to the office to collect the chalet key and then to look at our chalet that we would have the use of for the next few days. It was a modern chalet, made from blocks with a tiled roof. Inside there were two deckchairs and two plastic chairs. A sink with hot and cold running water and some power sockets.

Luckily we had our travel kettle, so we would be able to make drinks. About twenty yards away was a toilet block, and next to that a place that sold beach paraphernalia, teas and coffees, doughnuts, and bacon rolls.

“You could do all sorts in here,” Masha said to me when Mica nipped to the toilets, “with the door shut.”

“You know Masha, you absolutely could.” I got the impression I was being flirted with.

We met up with Mica and headed back to the cottage, collecting fish and chips on the way. They hand them out in styrene trays, which I hate, and so once back I tipped mine out onto a proper plate, smothered with salt and malt vinegar and dived in.

We sat in front of the TV that first evening; there wasn’t much on to interest me, so I just sat there and pretty much ignored the TV. Whatever they were watching was a bit of a bodice ripper and set in the early Victoria era. Mica and Masha seemed to enjoy it and were quite engrossed. I am not particularly fussed with ‘sexual content’; I much prefer partaking in it to watching it. It is always so false on TV and in films; it just irritates rather than titillates.