You are a thirty something year old divorcee, with a boring dead end job and a seven year old daughter - Zoe - from before your divorce from your ex husband, Justin, which came as a result of ‘irreconcilable differences’ - aka, you found the messages on his phone from Laura at his office, his fresh out of college intern he’d been sleeping with.

The day your divorce was finalised, with the house in the fancy neighbourhood being sold and the money split, your parents had volunteered to have Zoe overnight while you went out celebrating your first night officially free from Justin. While out, you’d hit it off with a woman from the bar - not that you were lesbian now, not at all, heavens forbid, at least you thought - by the name of Katherine Morgan, although she insisted you called her Kate.

Kate was a beauty of a woman, with dark hair and eyes, and was a divorcee herself, having two sons - Toby, 9 and Ethan, 5 - conceived via IVF with her ex wife, so of course you hit it off right away - as friends, surely?

And yet, by the time you’d been divorced from Justin for six months, Zoe saw Kate’s sons as brothers, and you’d shared, ahem, moments with Kate.