‘She looks happy, doesn’t she?’ he asked me. ‘We’re doing the right thing, Rach.’

‘I am happy,’ she called. ‘This is better than Effexor.’

He leant out of the window. ‘Do you mind me asking, what dose were you on?’

‘Quin!’

Like almost every well-paid person in South County Dublin, Quin was on antidepressants. In my opinion, there was nothing wrong with him, he was simply annoyed that money couldn’t buy full-time happiness. Instead, he bought antidepressants which didn’t fix him but numbed the edge of the disappointment.

Quin retrieved his togs from his case, I threw him a towel and in we went, both of us—but especially Quin—trying to look like regulars.

‘That must be the changing place,’ he muttered, steering me towards something which resembled a concrete bus shelter. Sugar Beach, St Lucia, it wasn’t.

Undressing, we nervously scanned our surrounds, trying to get the lie of the land. There were maybe twenty people here—all shapes and sizes, which was a relief. I was nothing like as neurotic about the size of my thighs as when I was younger, but I suspected it would never really leave me, that body shame.

The sea, though…It looked deep, cold and profoundly uninviting. I had to wonder about Quin. There were times I was glad I’d done whatever fool scheme he’d cooked up, but there were other times, like now, when I worried that he was slightly off his rocker? That we both were?

Still, though, if Luke were to see me now, he’d think I was an impressive and interesting person. Wild swimming in wintertime was only done by brave, questing types.

Our options were to dive into the water or inch down some steps—neither appealed. The done thing then was to swim out a bit and chat with other swimmers. Clusters of three or four heads bobbed in the water, their happy voices floating towards us on the chilly air.

My teeth were chattering and my feet in my flip-flops were already numb—I’d have jumped at a chance to back out. But Quin took my hand and approached the steps with a breezy nonchalance. Displays of weakness were not his thing.

The air temperature was just above zero—I could actually smell the cold. ‘Talk about showing a girl a good time,’ I exclaimed.

‘At least you’re never bored with me.’ He squeezed my hand. ‘Three, two, one!’ And we jumped.

It was so shocking, I thought I might have a heart attack. Gasping for breath and wheezing, ‘Jesus Christ, oh Jesus Christ,’ I turned in a circle, looking for Quin. ‘Oh my God,’ I yelled at him, exhilarated. ‘We did it!’

He caught my wrists in his hands and his eyes were shiny with delight. His body came nearer, and it became clear he was moving in for a snog.