Eventually I reached the bend in the road with a run of white bungalows, the garage, and Rod Cooper's store. I swung sharply round into the estuary itself, following it down from the mouth. It was immediately apparent from the crowded water that the finale of the regatta was in full swing. After the serious sailing races and the prize-giving came the novelty races: the swimming, the rowing, the windsurfing, culminating in what was now underway, the fishing-boat race. Crabbers, with throbbing engines, all billowing dark smoke, with whole families aboard, often third and fourth generations of fishing folk, were maneuvering as close to each other as possible, to lob flour bombs into each other's boats or faces. It was a riotous, hilarious debacle, but as fiercely competitive as the sailing races — in some cases more so.

This last race of the day would be followed by the final toot of the harbor master's horn, and then the huge barbecue on the beach, organized by so many families, and to which everyone, locals and tourists alike, was welcome. The whole community took part, with the Bellingdons taking center stage. The thought of setting eyes on Hugo and seeing him in a new light was something I very much looked forward to. Despite the colossal problems brewing for him, for an entirely selfish moment I just welcomed seeing him in a way that didn't make my heart race and my tummy turn over. It would be so liberating. This was a different kind of love.

I drove up a car-lined lane and left my car in a little-known spot in the driveway of a deserted house. Local knowledge. Then I walked down to the front. Inevitably, Bellingdons were all I saw, in their green Bellingdon Water aprons, and not the person I was actually looking for, who was not Hugo, but Ted. Lovely though it would be to see Hugo, Ted was the reason I'd hotfooted it down here. I badly needed a word with him. I'd messaged him en route, asking him to meet me quickly, but had got no response. Unsurprising, given there was no reception in this particular neck of the estuary, so I'd seek him out.

I walked along the crowded front, looking in the most likely places. Outside the Mariners I saw Peter, drinking with Adam and a few others. He gave me a wave. Just along from them were Janey, Celia, Edward and Babs, rocking back on their heels and roaring with laughter, everyone well oiled now, before the barbecue. It was cooler since the sun had gone in, and Celia and Edward were in matching blue Sunnyvale Spa sweatshirts, which made me smile. Celia saw me and waved me across urgently.

"Where the heck have you been?" she yelled.

I cupped my hands around my mouth and yelled back through the crowd: "Five minutes! I'll be back!"