It would be interesting to find out how he was doing and it would be good to say sorry again, but what was the point? If he forgave me, what would happen? We’d have a virtual friendship rather than a real one because I was looking for reasons to stay away from Whitsborough Bay rather than reasons to return. But Jemma had such an eager puppy-dog expression that I found myself saying, ‘I’ll think about it.’

‘You do that.’

There was a pause in the conversation and I knew what the next line of questioning was going to be. It was inevitable. I decided to delay it and ask her instead. ‘So what made you leave Whitsborough Bay for London?’

‘No exciting story, I’m afraid. It was where the jobs were.’ Jemma told me about her job as a museum curator, how she’d connected with her flatmates, and her love for London.

Her phone rang twice while she was talking and, with a shrug of an apology, she glanced at it each time then shook her head saying she didn’t recognise the number before resuming our conversation.

‘What about you?’ she asked. ‘What made you leave Whitsborough Bay?’

It was time. I had to say it. Jemma would be the first person in London, other than my boss, who knew. My stomach churned uneasily and I took a deep breath. ‘I’d never planned to leave. I always thought I’d settle in Whitsborough Bay long-term. Get married. Have a family. Do lots more surfing.’

Jemma smiled. ‘You’ve always been into surfing?’

‘No. My fiancée, Nikki, got me into it. Her parents were surfers. Her dad said she could surf before she could walk. My brother, Jack, set us up on a blind date and she’d arranged for us to go surfing, figuring it wasn’t a complete waste of an evening if I turned out to be a waste of space.’

‘I like her thinking. Obviously she didn’t think you were a waste of space.’

My throat tightened and I swallowed hard. ‘Jack knew what he was doing when he set us up that day because I unexpectedly fell in love with Nikki and with surfing.’

‘So here’s an obvious question…’

I realised I was holding my breath.

‘You’re both really into surfing. Right?’

‘Yes.’

‘And you live in a seaside resort that’s internationally recognised as a great place to surf. Right?’

‘Yes.’

‘So you move to London which isn’t exactly renowned for surfing given that it’s not by the sea.’

I slowly let out my breath, my heart racing. ‘As I said before, London wasn’t part of the plan but—’

Jemma’s phone rang for the third time. She glanced down and frowned. ‘It’s the same number again.’

‘Hadn’t you better get it? They’re obviously desperate to get hold of you.’