To show that he wasn’t boring, that he could be flexible, exciting even, Greg had borrowed one of Ray’s top of the range, ultra-light poles today to fish with. The sixteen-metre pole weighed next to nothing and was probably worth about two grand, maybe more. It felt strange, uncomfortable in his hands. He liked what he liked, as Ray said. And he liked his own rod. He knew the feel of it. With his own rod there were no surprises. He didn’t know what to expect with this one. However, he was prepared to give it a go.

They were still fishing in the same spot that they always went to – it didn’t do to change too many things all at once.

He’d been sitting, deep in thought, without a bite for half an hour now.

Carp were tricky fish to catch. You had to be wily. They were smarter than your average fish. Carp learn by their mistakes. Once they’d been caught by one type of bait, they wouldn’t go for it again. So you had to think of different ways to keep them keen.

He was thinking that if Annie were a fish, she’d be a carp.

‘How did the trip to the Lakes go?’ his friend enquired as he slipped the hook from the two-pound perch he’d just landed.

It had been Ray’s idea to take Annie hiking in the Lake District. The idea was that it would be a three-pronged attack. Annie would be impressed that Greg wanted to go somewhere other than Norfolk – and, specifically, Cromer – she would see that there was wonderful walking and adventure to be had in this country, something that he would be happy to do with her and, most importantly of all, would realise that she wasn’t capable of going to the Andes and would give up this whole, harebrained idea.

It had seemed like a grand plan at the time.

And, for a brief moment, it had looked as if it might work. As they’d summitted Scafell Pike, all was harmonious in the world. Then Annie had taken umbrage at something, some misplaced word or sentiment, and hadn’t appreciated the entirety of the scheme or its subtle nuances. He frowned. Or maybe she had? Whichever way, it had all been, literally, downhill from that moment.

‘Not well,’ Greg told his friend.

He pulled the pole in to allow a woman walking her dog to pass by on the path. The constant hauling in and out drove Ray mad, but it was part of the deal with this kind of fishing and Greg viewed it as a kind of meditation in itself.

While Greg had the rod in, he changed the bait on the end of the hook before he let the pole out again.