“Tommy — I . . ." The wind whipped my hair into my face; more strands stuck to my mouth, which was open in wonder. I pulled them away. But I had no breath or words to draw on. He continued his contemplation of the blue trawler, which was quayside now. The fishermen, having unloaded their morning catch, were hauling their empty lobster pots back into the boat, preparing to turn around and sink them again for tomorrow. I watched absently. For a moment I wondered if I'd dreamed it.

"But you hated me," I breathed suddenly, with feeling. I remembered those same blue eyes, younger and much fiercer; much more defiant, glaring at me from under his hat out hunting; shooting me a loathing look just after he'd apologized to Shona, in the kitchen, at home. Much nicer to her than to me. Always. And keeping in touch with her. Never me.

He turned, his face pale.

"I was seventeen when I first met you! And of course I hated you, it was my coping strategy. Don't you know anything about men, Flora? I could see Hugo had got there first, could see he was impressed with you flying over fences. I had no idea about his sexuality then, was just quietly furious about being pipped to the post and making a fool of myself into the bargain. Business as usual, Tommy Rochester. Except, getting the girl, which even in those days usually happened. Oh, I followed up smartly with a series of ‘I’ll show you’ girlfriends. I played fast and loose, but none of them matched up. I still saw you flying over four-foot hedges. Even back in the States."

“Tommy," I was flabbergasted. "You cannot be serious."

“Deadly." He looked deadly, too. He gave a twisted smile. “Not so Mr Transparent, huh?"

"But you were so—"

“Mean?"

I remembered his mocking eyes at Oxford, as I'd arrive from the train station and Glasgow; walking to Hugo's room across a grassy quad where Tommy and his friends would lie reading; how he'd ignore me. Later, in London, in smart restaurants, as I dithered over the cutlery, failed to get to grips with an artichoke. Latched on to other insecure girls. Always a snide look from Tommy.

"I told you: a defense mechanism. I loved you back then and this trip over here was a mistake and I knew it would be because I still love you now. I'm gutted to realize it but, it's a relief to say it. Maybe I'm purged? Maybe that's all that was needed, to spew it all out? Who knows? Anyway, that's me done making a fool of myself again. Twice in two decades. Give my regards to Professor Fleming, Flora. He's making a nuisance of himself in so many ways."