‘It’s fine once you’ve done a few lengths,’ Em promised as the other woman hesitated, two steps down. ‘Just throw yourself in and swim fast for a minute and you’ll be okay.’ She glanced over to Briar Cottage, its windows reflecting blankly back at her. What was happening in there? she wondered distractedly.

There was a small muffled scream as Olivia plunged in and executed a splashy breaststroke across the pool and back, the blonde topknot wobbling frantically on top of her head. ‘Okay, I’m warming up,’ she said, bicycling her legs underwater and rubbing her plump pale shoulders. ‘I’m all right. If I keep telling myself that, it might come true anyway.’

‘I’ve been doing that a lot this holiday,’ Em said, deadpan. She began swimming again herself, a lazy crawl that meant she could still talk. ‘So are you here with your family? I didn’t even know anyone was staying in your cottage. You must have been very quiet!’

‘Oh,’ said Olivia and, to Em’s intrigue, two spots of colour appeared on her cheeks. ‘Well, I’m sort of taking a breather from family life actually, so . . .’

Em reached the edge of the pool and turned, waiting for Olivia to finish the sentence, but the other woman didn’t say anything else. Taking a breather from family life? What the hell did that mean? ‘Ah,’ she said, feeling awkward. ‘Sorry. None of my business. Um . . . Are you staying here long?’

‘Just a few days,’ Olivia said vaguely. ‘Surprise holiday, you could say.’

‘Oh, right,’ said Em. ‘What, you mean . . . ?’ Suddenly a whole new story was forming in her head. A really good, enviable sort of story. ‘Don’t tell me. Your husband sorted out a mini-break for you in Cornwall as a treat to get you through the summer holidays?’

‘Something like that,’ Olivia said, cheeks still pink. Perhaps a little embarrassed at how lucky she was.

‘Oh my God,’ sighed Em, unable to imagine such a scenario. ‘How utterly blissful. What an amazing husband you’ve got! And it was a surprise, did you say?’

Olivia hesitated for a moment. ‘I had no idea I was coming here till the day I set off,’ she replied and Em let out a whistle.

‘Nice,’ she said, astonished that any woman could be so fortunate. ‘Jesus, I picked the wrong guy to marry. My first husband, I mean,’ she clarified quickly, seeing Olivia’s puzzled face. ‘George is . . . a second try,’ she said, lowering her voice. ‘New boyfriend. First time holidaying together. Possibly the last too, if my children keep sabotaging things as they have been so far.’

Olivia laughed, probably thinking Em was joking.

If only, she thought, with another wary glance back at the cottage.

Chapter Eighteen