"Because it's in the thermal tide surge, which means that any debris comes from the UK — i.e. none. Whereas Porthchapel, for instance, where you're mostly working and finding all that crap, takes in the current from the Gulf of Mexico. They're absolutely dreadful about chucking their taco wrappers about. A chip packet from Guatemala was washed up the other day — imagine! So irresponsible. Tell me I'm wrong," she demanded.

"You're not wrong," he agreed. "And that story was indeed reported in the Daily Mail recently, that great oracle of truth. But without wishing to be patronizing, the oceanography is a great deal more complicated than that and it's got nothing to do with the thermals. Oh, hello there." He broke off to greet a couple of students who'd come up to say thanks for the drink. I watched him joke around with them, well liked beyond his wallet, clearly. A couple more drifted across to join in and Babs and I stepped back to accommodate them. He threw back his head and roared at a joke.

"Frightfully attractive, isn't he?" murmured Babs, following my eyes.

I shrugged. "He's all right." I sipped my drink.

She was about to object, when suddenly she grabbed my arm. "Oh darling, do look over there," she hissed. “There's Peter, with that lovely Janey."

I glanced across to a table at the far end of the terrace, where Peter and Janey were indeed perched on the edge, having a drink.

"Oh great! I'll go and say hi." I made to go.

"No, no," Babs whispered, keeping her hand on my arm. "He's having a lovely time, leave him. Been sailing with her all day, just the two of them in the Wayfarer. I saw from the beach. Lovely." She smirked.

I laughed. "Oh, don't be ridiculous, Babs. She's in her thirties! He's seventeen!"

She made her famous face: the one with the arched eyebrows and the dancing, irresponsible eyes. Lit a cigarette and inhaled deeply. "What's age got to do with anything? I went out to dinner with a very young man recently."

"You're turning into Emma Woodhouse," I told her, as Janey, having spotted us, came weaving across.

"Your son saved me from a very tiresome day today," she confided when we'd greeted one another. "Your ex-mother-in-law wanted me to make up a bridge four, which I have to say, did not have me salivating at the mouth. Happily, Christina fell on her sword, and Pete and I vamoosed and went sailing. He's great company. You've done a terrific job, Flora."

“Thanks." I beamed. "What about the others?"