‘I can get you loads of meetings if you do come.’ Bel was oblivious, thank God. ‘You know, with all the right people.’

‘I’m not sure I want to make TV any more, you know, Bel.’ I drew a small box. ‘I’m thinking about retraining.’

In what, though? A diploma in choosing the wrong men?

‘Mag, just because things went wrong at Double-decker, it doesn’t mean all television’s bad. It doesn’t mean everything you’ve done is worthless. You know that, right?’

‘Right now, I don’t know much, Bel.’ I flopped back on the bed. ‘I don’t trust my own instincts any more.’

‘You’ve had a bad year, that’s all. That’s why you need to get away. At least say you’ll think about it, hey?’

‘God, you’re even starting to sound like an Aussie.’ I managed a laugh as I gazed up at the ceiling, picturing the sun and golden beaches, barbeques and opera houses. For a moment my heart lifted. ‘Okay, I’ll think about it, I promise.’

‘That’s my girl,’ said Bel cheerfully. ‘Right, well, gotta go, darling. It’s well past my bedtime now. You get on that Internet and check out some flights, okay? You’ve got to grab the bull by the horns now, Mag.’

But I’d done that already, hadn’t I? And the bull turned out to be quite mad and savage. I didn’t think I was going anywhere for a while. Not till Seb’s trial came up.

The day after I’d moved to the Port Isaac Hotel, a rather muted Fay came to see me.

‘Do you want me to stay?’ my father asked discreetly. Frankly, I was just relieved that she’d come alone. I shook my head and he disappeared into the afternoon drizzle for a walk with Jenny.

Fay and I sat in uncomfortable silence as the matronly owner set out tea and mince pies in my small suite, recently festooned with flowers from Charlie ‘and the gang’. Over the steaming teapot I watched the moss-green Hope of Port Isaac chug back into harbour as I waited for Fay to explain her presence.

‘I feel so guilty,’ she said eventually, and I poured the tea so I could keep busy while she spoke, shoving away images of her and Alex together. She didn’t look quite as glossy as usual; she looked young and rather swamped in a long gypsy-style dress, her hair a mass of short curls now it had started to grow out, back to its natural dark colour.

‘These things happen, Fay. It takes two.’

I winced as a spot of boiling liquid splashed my hand.

‘Maggie –’ She looked away. I waited patiently. I had all the time in the world these days.

‘I led him to you, I think.’ Her voice was small, her hands clasped tight in her lap.