You wait ages for The One . . . then a few hundred come along all at once. One night Lauren finds a strange man in her flat who claims to be her husband. All the evidence - from photos to electricity bills - suggests he's right. Lauren’s attic she slowly realises is creating an endless supply of husbands for her. There's the one who pretends to play music on her toes. The one who's too hot (there must be a catch). The one who turns everything into double entendres ('I'll weed YOUR garden!'). And the one who can calm her unruly thoughts with a single touch. But when you can change husbands as easily as changing a lightbulb how do you know whether the one you have now is the good-enough one or the wrong one or the best one? And how long should you keep trying to find out?
