He sees once more how beautiful she is. Not only outwardly, but in her age-worn love for him; love softened like old wood, so you’re no longer likely to catch a splinter in your finger when you touch it. A love that has developed a patina through use and usefulness, a depth through care and polishing, possessing the warmth of something familiar and real. A love that is still there when you wake up in the morning, and solid enough for you to rest your weight on, knowing it will not collapse or melt away. She knows him as intimately as one knows the route from bedroom to bathroom; she can navigate him even in the dark. She has stood by him, remained faithful, even when he has tested her to both of their limits. He feels such a surge of love for her that he has to march across the pebbles, hold her face between his hands and kiss her as though they are brand-new lovers.

Let’s give up, she says quietly, when he has released her. With the dog! she adds when she sees his face. We’ll hose her down at Warbler’s.

They walk along the shore for a while, Jules’s arm linked through his elbow. She steers them into the copse that leads back to the Ilex grove and the sound of the breakers behind them begins to fade.

It was kind of you to do the dishes first thing, he says.

No problem, she says. It’s nicer to get up in the morning and not have to face the crap from last night.

But I’m still here, he says.

Aw, don’t speak of yourself that way, she says. You’re my crap from ten years ago.

He jabs her in the ribs.

Wait! she tells Achilles, and the dog vibrates at the kerb.

That’s a bit harsh, he says.

Come on, you fed me the line. Over!

Sun is flickering through the silver birch trees. Straggling bluebells have pushed through the leaf mould. There’s a smell of wild garlic in the air.

You think we could invite Gabrielle Salmon for the weekend? he asks.

What weekend?

Any weekend. She’s an interesting person. I think you might like her.

She got a husband or boyfriend or something?

No idea. I’ll ask.

Jules is kicking the leaves.

You didn’t ever—

No! God, no.

His wife is amused.

God, no? Come on, she’s hardly hideous.

No, he says, but—

JESUS!

Jules smacks her right hand to her heart as if to make sure she’s still there, she’s still breathing. The car has already vanished.

Did you see that coming? I didn’t see that coming. She drops to her knees to pet the dog. God, I can’t get used to silent cars. It’s unnatural.