Right! Maggie was going out of the house. It was mid-afternoon, but she still had time to do something and act like a normal person on holiday, so there. So there, Will! He wasn’t about to stop her enjoying herself.

It had been talking to Em earlier, on the way back from their abortive Falmouth trip, that had changed Maggie’s perspective on this new aloneness. When she’d said, rather miserably, that Amelia was at her dad’s and she was on her own as a result, her fellow holidaymaker’s reaction had shone a whole different light on the situation. ‘What, so you’ve got two days of holiday all to yourself? Mate!’ Em had cried, slapping the steering wheel. ‘Seriously? I am wildly jealous of you right now, Maggie. Wildly jealous! What are you going to do?’

‘Well . . .’ Maggie had started but then stopped again, not knowing where to take the rest of the sentence. Especially seeing as she’d been sweeping the floor and listening to Radio 4 earlier when Em had knocked on the door.

‘I would totally book myself in for a spa,’ Em said before the silence could develop. ‘Just lie there for the day getting massaged and facialled, and emerge all sleek and pampered, having not lifted a bloody finger all day.’ She sighed noisily, accelerating too fast around a corner at the sheer wistful thrill of such an occasion. ‘Or – alternative plan – lounge indulgently by the pool, reading a massive fat blockbuster from start to finish. Only pausing to mix another cocktail.’ She grimaced, self-consciously. ‘Hmm, my day-off fantasies seem to involve a lot of lying down. How lazy. How about you? Are you going to shame me by doing loads of active, exciting things?’

Maggie had been on the verge of laughing and admitting that she was not a very exciting sort of person, but something had stopped her at the last minute. Em’s positivity was surprisingly infectious. ‘I might go for a long hike,’ she said tentatively, the idea springing into her head at that moment. Yes! Why not? ‘Somewhere really remote, just me and the elements.’

‘Good one,’ Em enthused. ‘The great outdoors, with no teenagers whingeing about the poor phone reception or lack of Wi-Fi . . . yes, I would like that too. Oh – here we are,’ she added, swinging into the car park at the cottages with a rattle of gravel.