Zennor was small and rather beautiful with its weathered stone buildings, narrow lanes and the backdrop of lush green fields. Maggie tucked her car in behind a Ford Focus with dog stickers all over the back window a short walk from St Senara’s Church where, according to her mum and Paul’s guidebook, the mermaid chair was located. Uggggh, she imagined Amelia complaining. This looks so-o-o boring. Do I have to come in? Can’t I stay in the car?

‘Oh God, tell me about it,’ Em had groaned earlier when Maggie had mentioned Amelia’s lack of enthusiasm for any of her suggestions. ‘All my two want to do is go to those extreme sport places: zip-slides and death-plunges and the like. Zorbing, Jack keeps suggesting. I don’t even know what that means, but I’m pretty sure my battered pelvic floor won’t enjoy the challenge, whatever it is.’

Locking the car now, Maggie glanced back down the road, imagining her parents, young and athletic, cycling along there together. Her dad, the most competitive man alive, no doubt pedalling away in the lead, with her mum’s ponytail streaming behind her as she did her best to keep up. Alec and Jan, love’s young dream, pink in the cheeks after the fresh air and exercise. All of a sudden she had a lump in her throat. She was not too old and dried-up to remember how it felt to be young and caught up in a whirl of romantic love herself. When she and Will had first got together, it had been wonderful. She had felt so happy!

She walked towards the church, picturing her twenty-something parents alongside her, hooking their legs over their bikes as they dismounted, smiling at one another. The warm, still air almost seemed to shimmer with their ghostly figures as she went up the lichen-splattered stone steps into the grassy churchyard. Did people you’d loved ever really leave? she thought, following the path to the church ahead. She had tried talking to her dad a few times after he died, but always felt self-conscious and melodramatic. Besides, at first she had felt so angry with him for dying from his own stupid recklessness that she’d only been able to say accusatory things in his direction anyway. Today, though, it felt as if he was here with her, however implausible that seemed, and she was glad for his presence.

Inside, the church was calm and hushed, with colourful cushions in the pews and beautiful arched stonework. The mermaid chair was chunkily built from dark-brown wood with the carving still in incredibly good nick, Maggie marvelled, crouching to photograph it from the best angle for her mum. Had her parents held hands as they stood here, exchanging glances as they read about the legend? Had it really been this that prompted her dad to make his proposal outside? She wished he was still around to ask.