And it did, on first appearances, seem very nice there. The three stone-built barn conversions must once have formed the edges of a stable yard, she guessed, but were now set up as a trio of holiday homes around a swimming pool, which also boasted a small lawned area with deckchairs and sun loungers arranged in clusters. There was a fourth, smaller building set further back from the pool, which housed the games room, according to Izzie’s investigations, alongside a communal barbecue area. To the left of their cottage stretched rounded green hills, and if you peered out of the bedrooms at the front, you could just about see a sliver of petrol-blue sea down below.

Inside, the cottage was clean and tasteful: big stone hearths and beamed ceilings, neutral paint shades with bright pops of colour here and there. Huge beds and monsoon showers awaited them upstairs, with deep soft sofas and shelves of paperbacks down in the living area. ‘The girl done good,’ she had thought to herself with a smile, heaving her suitcase up to the master bedroom, where she stood for a few moments to admire the cherrywood fitted wardrobes, the spotless white bed-linen and the vintage washstand in the en-suite. Just the place, she’d thought, flopping backwards on the bed, for a romantic getaway for two. Plus their three assorted children, of course. She found herself casting a wary eye over the bed, hoping that Seren wouldn’t end up squeezed in between her and George too many times.

Now in the kitchen, she rushed about, trying to get everything put away before the others walked in. Originally she’d assumed they’d all be travelling down to Cornwall together, but since George had been roped into bringing Seren along, he’d decided to drive his own car there too, claiming it would make life easier. Was it also his means of escape, she wondered, in case he wanted to make a quick getaway? A rush of nerves assaulted her in the next moment. What if her sister and friends were right, and this was all too much too soon? Would she and George still be quite so besotted with each other by the end of the fortnight?

‘I never expected to feel like this again,’ he had told her on Wednesday night. They’d been out to the cinema together and were back at her place, slotted around each other like spoons in the cutlery drawer as they lay in bed.

‘Me neither,’ she’d replied happily. Oh, so happily! ‘I honestly thought I was done with all that love and romance business. That it was a young person’s thing, and that I was far too cynical and jaded ever to go there again.’

He’d laughed, and it was warm and ticklish against the back of her neck. ‘Same. Who knew that we jaded old cynics would find each other? The perfect match!’