“Supper tonight?" he asked, before I shut the door. He leaned across and held it open, smiling enquiringly.

"Good plan," I agreed.

I walked away, smiling to myself.

By now, all the sailing races had finished. As I approached the Sailing Club, I realized the prize-giving was in full swing upstairs on the first floor. Up on the balcony, a sea of backs faced inwards, into the famous Stewards’ Room, where it was taking place. Obviously the Bellingdons were in their element, and I saw Belinda and Hugo's backs amongst the very select, members-only audience who were allowed up there, all quite pickled and merry by now, no doubt. Hugo suddenly turned towards the street. He saw me and gave me a huge smile, indicating I should come up.

“Really?" I mouthed.

"Yes!" He nodded vigorously as Belinda turned as well, but too late to interfere. Her smile froze as she realized. I grinned to myself. Sorry. I'm on my way.

I went through the plate-glass doors and pushed my way through the crowd in the room below, still known locally, and, if I wanted to play a trump card, which I rarely did, still Peter Bellingdon's mother. As I mounted the stairs, which were crowded with people standing, listening to what was going on above, Bobby Sadler, the harbor master, made them stand aside for me. He gave me a helping hand.

"Up you go, love," he said. "Your lad's won a prize!"

“Really? Peter has? Oh, great!"

Making more haste, I bustled past people, who kindly made way. The stairs emerged at the front of the oak-paneled room, lined with wooden shields and trophy cabinets, heaving with the great and the good. I immediately spotted Babs’ blonde head, right at the back. She was obviously not down the front where Belinda and Hugo had made their way with the rest of the family, but still rather naughtily in attendance, which wouldn't have escaped Belinda, whose social smile was now firmly in place for me as I appeared. Hugo waved me over, but I pointed to Iris — rather than Babs — at the back, indicating I'd stand with them. He nodded enthusiastically and turned back to his mother. I couldn't see Christina, but no doubt she was with the children somewhere. Ah yes, over there, in the corner. How odd, she was already watching me. She gave me a rather weary smile, still in the same old jeans and shirt, I noticed.

Then all eyes turned to Roger, as, behind the trophy table, and totally in his element like his wife in the morning, he began doling out the prizes. Roger no longer sailed competitively, but his pre-eminence in this field was undisputed if anyone fancied looking closely at the names engraved on the cups and trophies arrayed before him. Trewarren was a small pond, but he was still undoubtedly the biggest fish. I muscled to the back with the naughty girls. Babs was even having a cheeky cigarette.