I sat on a rock and drew up my knees, wrapping my arms around them. Then I allowed myself to indulge in something I very rarely did these days, but for which I felt Celia — the caustic, demanding Cele — had given me a green light. I had a proper think about Hugo. As I gazed up the path of the moon, I let him flood my mind, knowing, once the sluice gates had opened, he'd be there in glorious Technicolor. But for some reason my guilty pleasure wasn't entirely satisfactory. Because the thing was, the qualities Celia had complimented him on — his gentleness, his compassion, his ability to listen — suddenly became suspect. Because she'd also so neatly skewered his ability to remold his mother. The kindness and loyalty in those circumstances were misplaced, which suddenly put everything else at a skew, too. I also recalled him catching my eye as I talked to Tommy, in a considerate, caring way, making sure I was OK. Knowing Tommy wasn't my cup of tea. It was something I would normally have chewed salaciously over later, like a tasty bone. But the thing was, I really was OK. Was totally up to Tommy. Really didn't need him asking. So disorientated was I by my unfamiliar thought pattern, by my feeling that Celia's objective eye had cast a shadow she wasn't even aware of, that when a male voice rasped loudly in my ear behind me, I actually toppled right off my rock on to the sand.

"Orright, my loverrr?" had trumpeted behind me, at full volume.

I picked myself up from the sand and spun about, heart pounding. I was startled beyond belief. My eyes made out a shadowy figure looming over me, his back to the dunes. As I focused properly, and with the help of the moon, I realized it was Ted Fleming. He was grinning from ear to ear.

"What the heck . . .?" I clutched my heart which was still hammering.

"Oh sorry. Did I startle you? I thought a traditional Cornish greeting would be just the ticket for a girl steeped in the dialect."

I stared at him, flummoxed. Then my mind flew back to our little exchange in the hall the other day. The dawn began to come up. I nodded in acknowledgement. Smiled thinly. "Ah. Right. Touché." I notched up a point in the air to him with my finger. "Well done you."

He inclined his head in gracious acceptance of his victory, still grinning.

“Tell me," I asked at length when I'd composed myself. “Do you conservationists never sleep? Is your cause so urgent and worthy that you have to comb the beach all night?"

"You make that sound like a bad thing. Easy to poke fun at good causes, of course."

I folded my arms. "I just wish they were done with a little more joy, that's all."