I stand for a moment and look at the water. A thick green film of algae coats the surface. I think of Ben, his persuasive voice, urging me on: ‘Come on, Maggie, don’t be such a bore.’ Why hadn’t I just walked away? How different my life could have been.

But then, after all the hurt, I got a second chance at happiness; a chance to prove that I was a good person. And it came in the form of Elspeth, a child with piercing green eyes and an old, knowing soul.

I can’t live like this, I think to myself, as I step towards the river’s edge, clutching Elspeth’s letter in my hands.

I look down into the water. Its brown murky depths seem to be taunting me. I will go on after you’re gone, it whispers. I am all that matters. Do it. Jump. Jump.

Raindrops bounce on the glassy surface, sending little droplets of water spluttering into the air. I can feel the rain on my head, my hair, my body, but I don’t move. Instead I stand, transfixed by the river.

It would be easy. Just a little struggle, then thick, black oblivion. I have nothing left. This is the only way.

And then I see her; a little face rising above the surface. She’s about three metres away, in the centre of the river. Her arms are flailing as she battles the current.

‘Elspeth!’ I cry. ‘Elspeth! It’s okay. Mummy’s coming.’

The rain is falling more heavily now, obscuring her from my view.

‘Elspeth!’

I take a step forward, feel the thick, slippy mud under my feet, but as I go to enter the river I hear a voice.

‘This rain looks like it’s setting in.’

I turn my head then take a few steps back on to the bank to steady myself. There’s a man standing there. As he comes towards me I recognize him. It’s the man from the bus station. There’s a dog with him, a slender greyhound with a brindle coat.

‘Lenny can’t stand the rain,’ he says, gesturing to the dog. ‘Makes him shiver. I was just making my way back to the village. You want to get yourself back, too. It’s forecast storms.’

‘I’m fine here for now, thank you,’ I say. I turn back towards the river and hope that he will go.

‘You’re the lady who was looking for Rodmell,’ he says. ‘The Virginia Woolf admirer. Listen, you don’t want to stand that close to the edge or you’ll end up like her.’

‘I was just clearing my head,’ I say. ‘I know this spot. I used to live here.’

‘I see,’ he says. ‘I’m Tom by the way. What’s your name?’

I don’t answer. Maybe if I ignore him long enough he will just go away.