‘And . . . well, we’ve been friends for years and I really like him, but . . .’ Her mouth gave an awkward sort of twist. ‘Well, I couldn’t face putting my heart on the line again, basically.’ She hesitated, then added, ‘I haven’t exactly had much luck with men in the past.’

‘But now?’ Olivia prompted.

‘I texted him earlier to thank him for lending me some guidebooks,’ Maggie said. ‘And he’s replied . . . Hold on, let me read it. He’s replied: No problem, glad they were helpful. Hope you’re having a good holiday. Let me know if you’re around for a drink later in the summer – would be great to catch up.’ She put the phone in her lap and spread her hands, looking girlishly excited. ‘What do I say? I think I want to be brave and go out with him, but I’m so rubbish at this sort of thing. Completely out of practice.’

‘What’s he like?’ Em asked. ‘If you’ve been friends for years, it sounds like he’s trustworthy at least.’

‘He is,’ Maggie replied. ‘He’s . . . he’s really great. He’s been such a good friend to me and is actually quite . . . you know. Hot. But . . .’ She was turning pinker by the second. ‘The thing is, I don’t know what the “but” is any more. I’ve been saying “no” and “but” and making excuses for years, even though I’ve felt the vibes from him and always felt a bit giddy about him in return.’ She fiddled with her fingers, looking both fierce and shy at the same time. ‘Maybe the time has come to just . . . take a leap.’

‘Yes. Do!’ cried Olivia. ‘A date, how lovely. All that excitement and butterflies, getting dressed up, all the hope and anticipation.’

Em swallowed hard, remembering it well. All lost to her now, no doubt.

‘Any words of wisdom, Em? How did you and George get together?’ asked Maggie. Clunk. Presumably Em’s face was saying Catastrophe catastrophe, because in the next moment Maggie began hastily backtracking. ‘Um . . . If you want to tell us, that is. Oh dear. I haven’t just put my foot in it, have I? I did see him going out earlier and wondered—’ She broke off, grimacing. ‘Sorry. Ignore me.’

‘It’s okay,’ said Em, even though it really wasn’t. She stared at the inflatable flamingo that was drifting aimlessly across the water in a breeze and did her best to dredge up some semblance of composure. Breathe. ‘Look, I’m not the best person to ask about dating, sadly, seeing as George and I might have . . .’ She swallowed again, as if the words were stuck inside her. ‘Well, we might have ground to a halt, actually. But don’t let that put you off! Until this holiday, I was blissfully happy.’ Oh dear. Was that a sob? Had she just ended that little speech with a sob?