"I hope you don't think I was presumptuous to send you the basket."

The mycologist gave her a warm smile. They were walking on two sides of the street. It was a bit more than two meters between them, but the pavements were too narrow. Tina gave him a quick smile back, mostly preoccupied with not slipping on the wet cobblestone. She'd been uncharacteristically clumsy the past few days, she needed to be careful. Not thinking about all the falls and bruises you've sustained around the... other man, Tina!

"No, no, of course not. That was a lovely gesture!" she reassured. "And I'm glad we get to go for a walk together. It's indeed a bit lonely around this time of year, since we can't visit, and such."

"Well, you aren't alone this Christmas," he pointed out.

Right... oops.

"Well, you see, it's quite a silly story, really," she started with an awkward chuckle.

"You really don't have to explain–"

"But I do want to explain!" Tina flailed her hands and took a step to him.

"Distance, Ms. Popplewell!" he exclaimed, and Tina jumped back.

"Right, sorry!" She gave him an apologetic look. "It's not at all what it seems, with John. I mean, Mr. Holyoake. He's... stuck in my cottage. There has been a misunderstanding, and he had to stay to self-isolate with me. We're isolating together. But not 'together' together." No, no, not together at all. I haven't just had the best night sleep of my life, tucked into his side, my head on his chest, his arms wrapped around me, if I recall it correctly. Shut up. "And there's only seven days left anyway. And then I'll be available– I mean, free. I'll be– alone! Again."

Yeah, that really could've been phrased better.

The mycologist threw her surprised look, and Tina laughed awkwardly.

"So, your second book," Tina said in an unnaturally cheery voice. "What's the title?" Yeah, that was smooth, you daft, daft cow.

"Oh, it's Marvellous Fungi Volume 2," he said excitedly. "I completed the field research last Autumn, so it's all data analysis now. My favourite part of writing a book, I have to say." Seriously?! "And then, next year, probably around May I'll be starting on the first draft. It's rather intimidating, but what can I say, the subject is just so very rewarding."

"That's... fascinating," Tina drew out.

Oi, Mr. Spock, add more life into your tone, would you? The bloke might suspect mushrooms don't tickle your pickle, if you keep droning like that.

"And you work in publishing, don't you? I seem to recall Mrs. Hooper mentioning it," he asked.

See, at least someone's trying to sustain a conversation.

"I do, yes." Tina looked under her feet. "I work in the editing department of the Rivendell Publishing House. Just a very low level proofreading position. You know, finding typos, and such." Alright, Tina, admit it, you have no bloody idea what people actually do on real jobs. "Nothing too exciting, I'm afraid."

"But that is exciting," he said. Ugh, must he be so polite? They can surely move onto the next topic. "As a writer, I know how vital is the work that you and your colleagues do." Oh, that wasn't empty politeness. Blimey.

"Thank you," she muttered.

It was starting to snow, and Tina looked at small fluffy flakes swirling and slowly falling down.

"So I presume you're working from home these days. What is the project?" he asked. "Something I've heard of, perhaps?"

"Um... I can't tell you," she muttered. Blimey, just look at the man! He's like Michael Caine in Alfie - except hopefully with a better moral compass and no womanising ways. So gorgeous! "We sign confidentiality agreements. But I can tell you it's a new book by a very popular mystery writer."

The mycologist gave out a polite hum.

"Not my cup of tea, I have to admit," he said with a small apologetic smile. "I don't read mystery novels."

Oh bugger. That could become awkward down the road. It didn't matter, Tina told herself. Two people in a relationship didn't have to share interests and to work in the same field. Not that she was already considering a relationship with him, thank you very much. That would be daft. Although, wouldn't 'Mrs. Clementine Montjoy' sound so very lovely? Her brain did that Bridget Jones thing where she imagined Dr. Montjoy in a lovely suit giving a toast at their wedding saying something about how they had to social distance during their first date, and how Tina was so affected by his presence that she simply couldn't stay stable on her feet–

"Bugger!" she yelled from the ground.

Now she'd have a bruise on her bottom as well!

"Oh dear," the mycologist muttered and made a few uncertain steps back and forth. "Are you alright, Ms. Popplewell?"

"Of course not!" Tina barked and started rising. "I just landed on my arse on icy stone!"

And of course she just had to slip again, flailing and sliding like a penguin on a frozen slope. The voice of Peter Capaldi commented, 'Ergonomics' in her head. She then pressed both her hands into the ground, in an ungraceful downward dog position, and made an angry noise.

"Do you mind giving me a hand?" she hissed.

"I'm sorry, but I can't!" he said. "We're supposed to–"

"Yeah, yeah, social distance, I forgot," she grumbled.

She gave it a thought, and decided that down would work better than up. She slowly keeled on one side and plopped on her backside again. Pain echoed in her right hip. Damn it! She'd broken her tailbone when she was eleven. This pain wasn't going anywhere any time soon either.

Where's Holyoake when one needs him? Wait– what?

"Ms. Popplewell, I'm sure you understand why I'm behaving so ungentlemanly," the mycologist muttered in a tortured voice.

"I wouldn't have it any other way, Dr. Montjoy." Scale down the sarcasm, Tina. The man's right. You've just been spoiled by a large male always being around and catching you when you topple over like a berk.

She took a deep breath and started carefully getting up.

"Shall I call Dr. Fenton?" the blond offered. "You could have injured yourself."

It might have been the dull pain in her pelvis and the disgusting sensation of having wet denim stick to her buttocks, but Tina felt suddenly irked by his posh, nasal Queen's English. Remember when Holyoake offered to 'ring up the surgery' for you - due to your daft oven handle encounter, you lummox - and he was so worried for you that his East Midlands accent was suddenly obvious in that 'up' of his? Shut up, shut up, shut uppity up!

"I'm alright, thank you," she muttered and finally achieved a vertical position.

Now she'd be limping on both her feet: her left toes still hurt after the hamper incident, and now her right hip was aching and– is it actually clicking? Bloody hell, she might not survive this fortnight.

"Should we head back? You should probably sit down, or even lie down," the mycologist said with concern in his voice.

"Yes, I think it would be best," she said in a bleak voice.

"I do apologise that I can't support you, Tina," he said mournfully. "I feel utterly helpless. But as unfortunate as this fall of yours is, I just have to say, I'm very glad we went for our first walk together."

'First' walk? Oh, that's promising. Tina perked up and smiled at him.

"Maybe we should wait for the Spring for our next one, though," she said with a giggle. "I clearly can't be trusted on slippery ground."

She looked up at him and saw his blank face.

"Well, I suppose– If you would like to wait, I– I understand," he said.

What?! Is he actually– serious?!

"I'm joking, Edwin. That was just a comment on my clumsy self," she said, not sure she was reading his expression right.

"Oh, that's– funny," he said with a relief in his voice. "Ha-ha, of course it was a joke."

He mimicked wiping his forehead and grinned at her. Tina continued staring at him. It can't be! Is it possible that he just– No, it can't be! But if it is– She can't go out with a man without a sense of humour! It hadn't been the best of jokes, she had to admit, but it was clearly a joke.

They walked slowly, and she decided to give it another go.

"I had a chance to start on your book, actually," she said. "That chapter on the tetrapolar mating system of the cauliflower mushroom was... compelling."

"I'm so glad you think so!" The mycologist's eyes lit up, and he even moved closer to her side of the street. Point Tina. Men and their ego. So easy! "Nothing - nothing intrigues me more than Sparassis latifolia! Did you know–"

Bollocks. It's never good when a fanatic starts with 'did you know.' It means the next twenty minutes you'll be educated on what they think you don't know - but definitely need to! Yep, here we go.

Tina hobbled and nodded and hummed with an attentive expression on her clock. Blimey, don't you wish you hadn't walked that far away from home, Tina?

Alright, she was being waspish. He was well-spoken, his explanations weren't overloaded with cryptic scientific terms, and he was an engaging narrator. As little as she was interested in mushrooms, she learnt something new and wasn't particularly bored while listening to him. And she had been the one who asked! He couldn't possibly know she didn't care for the topic that much. Alright, she did think he'd missed the opportunity for an excellent threesome joke here - but again, he just wasn't that kind of a bloke, was he?

They reached her cottage, Tina climbed the step leading to her door, and he stepped closer, still obviously keeping his distance.

"Well, Tina, this was... wonderful," he said and gave her a lingering emotional look.

Wow, in the warm golden light of the streetlamps, and the soft snowfall, and with his slightly disheveled curls - isn't he simply the picture of a holiday romance? It's like Love Actually and Holiday wrapped together. Except for cheating husbands. Damn you, Harry! Burn in hell!

"It was, wasn't it?" she purred. "I'd invite you over for a cup of hot cocoa, but–" she trailed away and gave him a flirty batting lashes look.

"But you have a guest," he said, with an appropriately wistful look on his face.

"No, Edwin, I'm still in isolation, that's why. There's really nothing going on between Holyoake and me."

Well, there was that one time on the kitchen table... Shut up.

"Then perhaps we can make it a daily habit?" he asked. "Fresh air and a stimulating conversation."

Oh look at the ducky! He looks so hopeful!

"I would definitely love that," Tina said.

They said their goodbyes. In the hall, she closed the door behind her and pressed her back to it. If not for her sore pelvis, that was the best first date she'd ever had!

"I'd ask if it's you, but I doubt anyone else would dare to enter this sanatorium," Holyoake said stepping out of the kitchen with a book in one hand and a mug in the other. 

Oh god, reading glasses! So far, to her immense relief, she'd only been subjected to this view once! A pair of clever specs sitting low on his patrician nose? Good bye, Tina's common sense! Good thing, he didn't know he possessed the one secret weapon that could 'de-chicken-ise' Tina Popplewell in a blink of an eye.

"I borrowed one of your Richardses," he said and waved the book in the air. "I'd rather have a Cox, but I didn't want to intrude into your sacred space. How was your evening?"