Don't you recognise me?

"Don't you recognise me?" The man was tall and skinny with a few days worth of stubble. He was dressed in a high viz jacket and work boots.

"Are you talking to me?" I put on a posh accent and carried on walking.

"Yes, I'm talking to you. We were married for seven years. You can't have forgotten."

"Married, to you? No. I've never seen you before in my life." I turned to my new friend Charlotte and shrugged.

"Stop mucking about. It's me, Burt." This guy was not taking no for an answer.

Charlotte got between us. "Leave my friend alone. She doesn't know you."

The two of us carried on walking and the guy just stood there, staring after us. "Do you think I look like the kind of woman that would be married to a man like that?"

Charlotte took my arm. "No, of course not dear."

Twenty years ago it was different. That was when I divorced Burt Entwhistle and swore I would never speak to him again.

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