Slowly, the shocks of release subsided, and his mouth and fingers quietened, as if he could sense the vast peace now flooding her veins. At last his face was above hers again, and he kissed her, and she almost swooned at the taste of her own salt.

It was now her turn to open up again, welcome him into her body, to clasp him, to murmur endearments, all the mysterious and suddenly easy rituals of romantic love, all the allusions of the poets, come to life in her arms. The feel of him sliding in, belonging, stirred her to ecstasy again and again, no longer a sharp release, but an almost tidal sense of overflowing.

Words rang in her as he moved: Home. Safe. Comfort. This was the rest she had always sought without knowing it; the purring cat rolling to offer the soft fur of her belly for caresses, the basin of steaming hot water as laces were undone and stays came off, the scatter of fresh drops as the wind shook the branches after the refreshment of rain, the hearth on an icy winter’s night.

She shut her eyes and saw again on the backs of her lids that folded triangle of a hawk on the wind, hovering, hovering, then swooping in one bursting moment of beauty.

Afterwards, they lay cocooned in each other’s arms and further encircled by the shielding greenery, spending the short hour before they had to part talking and kissing, both without urgency. They did not waste time with declarations; their bodies had spoken that part. They did, however, repeatedly say each other’s names, rolling them in their mouths.

Charlotte tried, not very fluently, to explain how Jacob’s touch, his words, his friendship had poured balm on a wound all the more grievous for being both invisible and commonplace; how their lovemaking, against every principle and precept she had ever espoused, felt like a secret consolation, a card the universe had drawn from its sleeve: see, you have lost a child, but not all is lost. ‘You have taught me that happiness is still possible. That it can take one by surprise; that while ruin, loss, disaster, and grief stalk us all, joy can also spring into our path when least expected.’

He clasped her yet more closely, his breeches still unbuttoned, her skirts crumpled as high as her waist, both of them luxuriating in immodesty. ‘If I have given you joy, my treasured Charlotte, the pleasure, the honour, has truly been mine.’