“Cheese and pickle?”

I already knew it was Ted. His voice, which was strong and reassuring, had sent something of a girlish frisson up my spine. I turned and bestowed what I hoped was my most dazzling smile. His eyes sparkled into mine: they were highly amused.

“Please. But hold the pickle. I'm in enough of one already.”

“Add to that a toasted cheese and ham,” he told the boy. “And a cappuccino?” he offered, with an enquiring smile.

“Perfect.”

The boys looked relieved, and rather admiring. I mean, how lucky was that? Talk about a knight in shining armor. They told us they'd bring it straight across when it was ready, and we moved away to sit at a table that was just being vacated, in pole position, right at the edge of the garden. Take one more step and you're in the sea. Just then the sun came out from behind a very tiny cloud. Perfect.

"Yet again, Mr Fleming, I am indebted to you," I said as I sat down.

“Think nothing of it, Mrs Bellingdon. And I don't think it's Yet Again, is it?"

“Well, by all accounts you delivered me safely home last night and didn't take advantage of my riotous condition, which, according to Celia, I gave you every opportunity to. Indeed every invitation.” I rolled mortified eyes.

"Ah yes." He laughed. “The skinny-dipping. Which under normal circumstances I'd be more than up for. Do ask again."

His eyes held mine. They were warm and tender, not mocking. But although I was enjoying it, I was out of practice and couldn't do it for long. Mine slid away to the sea.

“This your usual haunt?" I asked casually.

“Most days, actually. The boys used to be students of mine. They're nice lads trying to run a business on a shoestring, so I patronize it as much as I can. They could do more with their degrees, but some people, particularly marine biologists, can't bear to be away from the sea even for a minute. I get it.”

My eyes came back to him. "And the same goes for you? You have to be by the sea?"

It sounded a bit as if I was canvassing him on where he might settle down with me someday, but I'm increasingly aware that I'm alone in such hypersensitivity. He certainly didn't treat the question as a loaded one.

"No, actually, not necessarily. But I do need water. Where I live now there's a river at the bottom of the garden — that's enough for me. You get all the wildlife: the wagtails, the kingfishers, herons, otters. I even saw a water vole the other day. I can sit there for hours."

“Sounds idyllic."

“But you prefer London?”

“No, I'm very definitely a country girl. And, actually, in an ideal world I would want to be by the sea, it's where I grew up. But Peter's school is near London.”

"But he's left school, surely?"