"I can't do it, Flora. You can tell me you're a Bellingdon, that your son's a Bellingdon, you can plead with me, but I still can't do it. I know too much. And it's too enormous. They're criminals. Not the father – it would never have happened in his day, in fact he was one of the first subcontractors to encourage stricter maintenance measures, to sign up to scrutiny, one of the first to recognize the environment. But that disaster of a son of his, the one you love so much . . ." He regarded me with a mixture of dismay and horror.

Still I kept control.

"Hugo was under pressure. So much. You'll never know how much. His mother, the shareholders—"

"His mother! He's a man, for goodness sake!"

“Ted, sometimes personal issues, problems, can seem bigger than – than—" I grappled for the word, “than world problems. Don't you know that?"

He stared. "Of course."

"And sometimes – sometimes sacrificing personal life for the greater good – is impossible. For some people. Not for you, I get that. The cause was bigger than your marriage, for instance."

He looked at me sharply.

“That's why she left you, Jilly. Isn't it? Because you loved the environment more than you loved her. She realized that. She couldn't play second fiddle."

He stared out to sea. "Is that so wrong?"

"No, plenty of other people, plenty of righteous, famous people — the Pankhursts — I don't know, Martin Luther King, off the top of my head — have done the same. But some people can't, Ted. They're not strong enough."

"Weak. It's what sorts the men from the boys."

I let that go. "Everyone's different," I said evenly. "You sacrificed your family. Hugo can't do that."

"You mean his mother," he said bitterly. "And, yes, I sacrificed my wife. Having kids. Much bigger."

"And me. On a smaller scale."

He nodded. "And you. If that's how you see it. Or want to see it. And on a . . . different scale. No longevity between us, no past, but lots of feeling. I like you, Flora. Don't know you, haven't known you long enough to say I love you, but I like you a lot. Think we could have had something together. A future, maybe."

"And I like you. But Ted, I lied when I said earlier I didn't mind you seeing Shona." I closed my fist and put it on my heart. "I do. I am one of those ‘personal’ people, not a ’greater good’ person. I mind. About personal relationships, loyalty. It does matter that you went behind my back and told tales about my son's family. I'm not like you."

He was quiet a moment. We both watched the crabbers coming in, laughing and tooting their horns now, whole families on board. The race was over, they were on their way to the shore. Ted's mouth twitched ironically.

"I suppose supper's out of the question, then?"