Down the wide clay track to the cottage I strolled, my hands in my skirt pockets, deep in thought. The sea was glistening before me in the bay. A few small boats bobbed around but there wasn't much wind. It wasn't really a sailing day. It was very much a beach day, though, and having made a quick detour to the shop in the village for some fish for tonight's supper, I took a circuitous route home, and walked back along the cliff path. As I went, my eyes tracked down. In the spot she favored, halfway down the cliff, perched precariously but privately with her easel, was Celia, who, unlike me, still tended to paint all day, a packet of sandwiches in her bag.

I wondered where Edward was. Apart from a few rather tense, whispered words last night in her bedroom, during which I entirely and cravenly blamed Babs for upsetting Edward, I hadn't seen much of my friend. They'd gone out for a walk on the beach later, and I'd been in bed when they returned. At least, I'd assumed the pair of them returned, but when I'd gone down this morning, I'd seen only Celia through the kitchen window in the garden, chomping on her muesli in a desultory fashion. Perhaps he was still in bed? Or had he gone back to the B&B he'd apparently booked? Home, even? I didn't ask because her face did not invite it. In fact, I didn't even venture outside. Instead, grabbing a couple of bananas from the fruit bowl, I'd called a cheery good morning from the kitchen, yelled something about getting an early start, and legged it up to the house.

I paused above her now on the cliff path. She was dabbing away minutely at her canvas, eyes flitting every second back to the sea, totally engrossed in her work and oblivious to me. I walked on.

The next cove was almost entirely empty, but there was a reason for that. An even more hazardous climb down than Celia's, it was not for the faint-hearted. You had to be pretty agile to attempt it, plus it took ages to achieve, and then, of course, you had to get back up again. Two people who had achieved it were Tommy and Janey. I felt a ridiculous wave of relief at seeing them together. Janey was paddling with her back to me in a yellow bikini, tanned, lithe and gorgeous. She was daring herself to go further into the freezing water, arms held aloft. Tommy, flat on his back behind her in shorts and a T-shirt, was fast asleep, by the looks of things. His skin was fair and I found myself wondering if he had cream on, something I couldn't see him bothering with. Catching up on some shut-eye after last night, no doubt.