Over the next month, Caroline ‘volunteered’ me for several more DIY tasks for our gorgeous neighbour. Changing light bulbs, fitting smoke alarms and taking her garden refuse to the recycling centre. On each occasion, she was dressed impeccably. I tried to memorise every detail of her subtly sexy outfits and couldn’t wait to return to my study for ‘relief’.

On one occasion, she was wearing soft black leather trousers, shiny black stilettos and a breathtaking sheer white silk blouse. She was standing close to me as I was bleeding radiators – looking down, pointing and gently instructing. I was finding her presence somewhat distracting and managed to leak some heating fluid onto her cream dining room carpet. She was furious. Hands on hips, her red lips almost snarling. I apologized as humbly as I could, but there would be no question - I had to agree to pay for a specialist cleaner to repair the damage.

The following day, she phoned Caroline, to apologise for her outburst. However, my wife sympathized with Jennifer and agreed that I should pay for the damage. I argued the point with Caroline, but she insisted that we stay on the best terms with our neighbour. “You can be very clumsy at times Peter. You have let me down and you must make amends.”

For the next six weeks, no further calls were made on my ‘handyman’ skills. I had obviously blown it with the lady next door! Despite this, my wife continued to visit Jennifer and began joining her on shopping trips.

Jennifer appeared to have taken Caroline ‘under her wing’ as something of a project. The next thing I discovered was that my beloved was enrolled as a member of an exclusive gym, frequented by her new friend. I was sure the fees would be sky-high and began to resent the three evenings per week that she and Jennifer spent using the expensive exercise equipment.

I continued to peek out at Jennifer when she left the house (even managing to take a few surreptitious photos of her for my personal use), but had almost given up on doing anymore little jobs next door. So, it rather took me by surprise, when, out of the blue, Caroline asked me if, next weekend, I’d go next door, to help with some gardening work. Naturally, I was keen to make amends and agreed. She then handed be the bill for Jennifer’s carpet - £576! “You don’t use your golf gear these days darling. Why not sell it on e-bay?” I stormed off to my room, but soon realized that it would be best to settle things ASAP, in the hope of starting afresh.

The following Saturday, I made my way next door, trying to muster as much ‘carefree’ attitude as I could. Jennifer was politeness itself and thanked me for the recent cheque with the sweetest smile. She was wearing a stunning green pleated satin skirt with matching heels and a delightful angora sweater. Her face was beautifully made up with bright red lipstick showing off her perfect white teeth. I feigned calmness as she led me to her back garden. She pointed to the privet hedge – it must be at least 300 yards in length! “Would you be a sweetie Peter, and trim my hedge? Caroline and I are going up to London shortly, for some retail therapy and a spot of lunch. We won’t be back until 8 PM. Will that be long enough for you? Only, I’m having a few girlfriends over tomorrow for an al fresco lunch party and I’d like to have it looking spick and span. The trimmers are in the shed.”

Without waiting for an answer, she turned on her heel and strolled away, down the garden path, high heels clicking and skirt swaying. The image of her beautiful calves, sheathed in delicate grey nylon, burned on my brain as I went in search of the tools. I hadn’t trimmed a hedge in many years (our own property is surrounded by fencing) and was of course expecting to find a petrol or at least an electric trimmer. But no, there was only a pair of well worn, rusty clippers! I couldn’t believe it. With these, the task would take all day! I didn’t have a hedge trimmer myself, so set about cleaning oiling and sharpening the equipment, as best as I could. Even this took almost an hour and now that I looked more closely, I could see that the hedge was at least 8 feet high. I’d be spending most of the day on ladders!

After making myself a coffee back home, I made a start. Caroline and her friend had left some time ago and it was now 10.30 AM. I set to work, determined to do a professional job – only stopping once or twice for light refreshments. When I saw the ‘girls’ appear at the top of the garden, I checked my watch - it was 9.00 PM!

They were loaded down with expensive-looking bags and looked slightly ‘tipsy’ from their lunch date. “Peter, you’ve done such a wonderful job, hasn’t he Caroline?” I allowed myself a broad grin.

“Yes Jennifer, but there is still another 20 yards to trim. Will you be able to finish tonight darling?” said my wife. I must have looked stunned.

“Don’t be cruel, Caroline, I’m sure Peter will be able to finish it off in the morning, for me, won’t you Peter?” she said in such an appealing way that I simply nodded yes.

On the following morning, having set the alarm, I rose and prepared for more hedge trimming. My arms, feet and back all ached and I groaned aloud whilst getting dressed. Caroline awoke and watched me. “Why don’t you go over there and make a start Peter? I’ll have breakfast ready when you get back”. Ah, some kindness at last from my spouse! I went downstairs, gulped down some juice and made my way next door. No sign of Jennifer. The curtains were still drawn. So, arming myself with the third-rate shears, I set to work again.

I was so tired that it took almost four hours to complete the hedge and tidy up the clippings. Returning from the shed, I looked up to see a vision of feminine beauty. Coming down the path from her house was not only our neighbour, but five or six of her ‘girlfriends’: all looking stunning in pink, turquoise, cream or baby blue. And who should be at the rear, but my ‘better half’. I noted that she was wearing an outfit I’d not seen before: a rather sexy primrose dress and jacket with black stockings and accessories. I could see that she’d lost weight too - I hadn’t noticed before. (Why doesn’t she dress like that at home?!).

Jennifer introduced me and there was a lot of giggling and teasing from the ladies. “Can you send him round to my place Caroline?” said Fiona, an attractive divorcee in her 50’s.

Eventually, Jennifer escorted me to the gate. “ Did you like Caroline’s outfit, Peter? So chic, so feminine, don’t you think?”

“Well yes, I suppose so – she admires your taste” I replied, blushing slightly.

“Of course, these things don’t come cheap, Peter – but you are a very lucky man, are you not?”

“Yes, of course” I mumbled.

She then did something unexpected. She held out her beautifully manicured hand, in an aristocratic gesture that invited a kiss. I responded like an automaton, clumsily holding her fingers and brushing the back of her hand with my lips.

“Thank you Jennifer – you have given us both a lift since you moved here. Let me know if you need any more help.You are such a sweet man, Peter. There is just one little matter. At work, I am addressed as Miss or Miss Crawford. Whilst you are doing things around my property, would you mind terribly, calling me in that way? It would make me feel more comfortable.”

I was flabbergasted. What could I say?

“Yes Miss. Thank you Miss” I replied and took my leave.