I have just woken up in bed next to a man who isn’t my husband.

Michael, my hubby of 12 years, knows that I’ve spent the day – and night – in a hotel with another bloke.

But it won’t wreck our relationship.

It’ll give our marriage a boost, according to TV presenter Mariella Frostrup .

She took her best friend Penny Smith’s boyfriend on holiday when her husband couldn’t take time off work.

And their non-sordid sojourn was so successful that Mariella declared borrowing another woman’s partner “the best marriage enhancer ever”.

Time to call Nicky, my best friend of 25 years.

We first met in our frizzy-haired high school years, drank our way through the same university and now live only a few miles from each other with five children between us.

We’ve shared our innermost secrets and even the same birthday but never a man. Until now.

“Nicky, can I borrow Kenny please?”

She sounded non-plussed.

“What’ve you broken now?”

Kenny is on my speed dial as a man who knows his way around a tool box – whereas Michael does not own a toolbox.

Explaining that I need Kenny’s company not carpentry is toe-curling. But generous Nicky agrees to lend me her bloke as a stand-in holiday hubby.           

Going green: Julie and Kenny go for some pampering (
Image:
Stuart Nicol Photography)

Before he’ll agree Kenny has a question: “Will I get paid one million dollars like Demi Moore in Indecent Proposal?”

To prove mine is a decent proposal, I repeat Mariella’s phrases such as “platonic partnership” and “no sex please, we’re British”.

“Phew!” says Kenny, with an ego-crushing sigh of relief.

Michael is just as relieved.

“You mean I can watch football ALL weekend? Yesss!”

The next day, as Michael studies his fixtures list, me and Kenny meet in the serene surroundings of Balbirnie House Hotel in the Fife countryside.

But as we check in I am anything but relaxed.

And then the receptionist, with a welcoming smile, says: “Mr and Mrs McCaffrey, we have upgraded your room to the bridal suite.”

“Oh no,” I say with a stammer.

“We’re not married. I mean, I am married. But tonight I’m staying with Kenny who’s my best friend’s partner.”

The receptionist’s eyes widen as she hands us our keys.

Our room is sumptuous and spacious but the four poster bed screams romance.

And since we’re here on a squeaky clean set-up and not a dirty weekend it stops us in our tracks.

Kenny looks intently at the ceiling and whistles. And I feel a hot blush redden my cheeks.

“Let’s do something active,” I say. “Out of the room, I mean.”

Great wall: The sleeping arrangements are finalised (
Image:
Stuart Nicol Photography)

“Swimming?” says Kenny.

“Cycling?” I suggest. The sight of me in swimwear will put Kenny off his dinner.

But the only two wheels available to hire belong to a tandem. Being a good 10 inches shorter than Kenny, my feet barely reach the pedals and he ends up doing all the hard work.

“Wheee, this is exhilarating!” I squeal.

“Exhausting,” says Kenny, gasping for breath. “I really miss Nicky.”

Kenny cuts short our double-cycle after we crash into a hedge. I forgot I was in charge of the brakes.

Spa sessions seem a safer way to while away the afternoon.

They are always a treat for me but torture for Michael, ever since a therapist guffawed when he scoffed his cucumber eye pads.

So I’m delighted when Kenny is keen to share an avocado face pack.

And as we sit together looking like Kermit and a Ninja Turtle, his stories make me laugh so much my face ends up as sore as well as smooth.

But when it’s time to freshen up for dinner things get tricky.

Etiquette books don’t address sharing a hotel bathroom with your best friend’s bloke (I checked).

So do I keep the door unlocked so Kenny knows I’m entirely comfortable with our unusual situation?

Or do I bolt it to prevent any embarrassing walk-in incidents? In the end I turn the lock slowly and quietly.

Kenny is unabashed by the bathroom dilemma and when he’s in the shower he belts out 1988 Bros hits, including the screechingly high harmonies.

Sounds like he’s feeling pretty comfortable.

At dinner he is charm personified.

One sides: The non-couple come back from their ride (
Image:
Stuart Nicol Photography)

He pulls out my chair and pushes it in for me to sit – whereas Michael loves pulling the chair really far away in the hope that I sprawl on to the floor.

We have been evicted from more than one restaurant when that trick worked.

Sitting with Kenny for hours is fabulous fun. The chat is easy and the wine flows freely.

“What a lovely couple,” says an elderly lady dining at the next table.

“We’re not a couple,” I say, slurry with Merlot. “I’m just hiring him for the night.”

Suddenly the lady is less happy to chat.

Full of fine food and more than a little squiffy, now is the time Kenny and I secretly dread. Bedtime.

Sleeping with a face-full of make-up is a beauty sin but seeing me without it would give Kenny night terrors.

Instead, while Kenny’s caterwauling Bros again in the bathroom, I nosedive into bed and haul the duvet up to my chin.

When Kenny strolls out of the bathroom it’s clear he’s come prepared. For warfare.

His camouflage onesie makes him look like a big baby commando but it breaks the ice.

“I couldn’t find a padlock for the zip,” he says.

At first I gently suggest he sleeps on the sofa, but Kenny looks crestfallen because the bed looks so comfy.

“We could build a pillow wall?” he says.

It’s perfect for preventing mortifying skin-skiffing incidents in the middle of the night.

Not knowing what to do at the awkward moment where we need to say goodnight, I give Kenny a playful punch in the arm which makes him yelp, and we settle down at extreme opposite sides of the bed.

Michael snores so loudly that for years I thought we lived under a flight path. But because Kenny doesn’t I enjoy the deepest sleep I’ve had in ages.

Hot date: The pair sit down for dinner (
Image:
Stuart Nicol Photography)

When I wake my day-old mascara has glued my eyes closed and I hear, but don’t see, Kenny snicker at my Marge Simpson bedhead.

But by now there are no boundaries left between us so sharing breakfast is a breeze.

Afterwards we enjoy a country walk, punctuated by Kenny’s jokes and my chummy jabs to his arm which I’m sure he doesn’t mind.

I’m sure his groans of pain are just in jest. Kenny gives me a lift home and we pop in to see Michael.

I have a great idea for my husband.

“From now on, if you’re ever too busy to go on holiday it’s OK because I can go with Kenny.

"We had a brilliant time, didn’t we, Kenny?”

I turn to give Kenny another fun-punch but he’s gone.

From the window I see him rev off in his car at high speed down the street towards Nicky’s house.

I haven’t seen him since and he’s stopped taking my calls.

So Mariella, you are right. Borrowing a bloke for a break has really enhanced the romance.

For Nicky and Kenny.

With thanks to Leslie Bike shop.