‘Hmm,’ Greg says, as if he’s immensely pleased with himself for this momentous decision. ‘I’m looking forward to it already.’

So, while my colleagues will be hiking in the Andes, exploring Inca ruins beneath snow-capped peaks and amid lush tropical forests, it looks like I’ll be coming back to Cromer and the delights of the Clifftop Guest House.

Chapter 21

Chapter 21

We walk down the High Street, arm-in-arm, looking for somewhere to have lunch. My dark mood has been dispelled by the tang of the salty air and the enlivening breeze.

‘We could go to the Crown,’ Greg suggests when I stop outside a new bistro that’s opened since we were last here.

‘This looks nice.’ I scan the menu. Herb pancakes with mushroom stuffing and creamy Kirsch Gruyère sauce. Roasted butternut squash and parmesan risotto. Chilli crab linguine with coriander pesto.

‘I fancy the Crown,’ Greg says.

Egg and chips. Ham and chips. Sausage and chips.

‘This is a bit different.’

My husband scowls at the menu and wrinkles his nose in distaste at the delights on offer. ‘Looks a bit fussy.’

The Crown it is then. We order two lots of sausage and chips – despite my protesting tastebuds. When we’ve eaten our solid, traditional lunch, I cast a longing glance at the bijou bistro as we jump back in the car and head out to Holkham for the afternoon.

This is my favourite beach on this coastline. Miles and miles of flat, largely empty sand stretch out as far as the eye can see. This is one place I don’t mind coming back to again and again.

We walk along the beach. It’s virtually deserted today, bar a couple of hardy dog-walkers as the weather is less than conducive to sunbathing. I snuggle close to Greg as the wind threatens to blow me away. The sun is trying its best, but it’s no match for the howling gale. Even the seagulls are being blown backwards.

I tuck my arm into Greg’s, asking him, ‘Do you never get the urge to do anything different?’

He shakes his head, and that’s just as I suspected.

‘Not ever?’

‘I like our life,’ he says. ‘We’ve got a nice house, good friends, great kids. And I enjoy my job.’

‘You moan about it all the time.’

‘I know, but that’s what people do. It’s okay really. Pays the bills.’

‘Have you never wanted anything more?’

My husband looks genuinely puzzled. ‘Like what?’

I realise that this is a pointless conversation as Greg is never happier than when he has a fishing rod in his hand or is talking about the joys of catching carp. Nothing else really matters to him.