‘Goodnight – there’s your table.’ she said, moving off away from the barbecue party and the rock gently steaming.

‘Oh. Goodnight. Thanks. Super.’

‘Have a good time.’

‘Thanks, we will.’

‘Do you think she was listening to us?’

‘Of course she was, the old bitch.’

Matilda grinned, walking barefoot along the sand.

3

A LONG HAUL up the goat track. That voice – ‘one more twist, one more turn – nearly there, nearly there now.’ Voices linger in the mind long after the face blurs. The muscles of her thighs hurt as they always did. Her breath came short, her heart beat. A matter of honour not to stop, however slow one went, until the top. She remembered another very steep path at Le Brusc down to the pebbles in the cove, no sand there, and the hair-raising climb at Pedney Founder where they hauled themselves up clutching at clumps of thrift.

What madness to bring Gus here. Still, he had adored the sea even if he had hissed and honked all the way up the cliff. Stub had barked running ahead and then run back to encourage them. The top at last. Matilda set down the heavy basket, dropped her bag and sat gasping, her legs trembling. Away on the horizon the boat sailed almost out of sight, below on the beach the young people had the fire going, the food laid on the flat rock. Two girls were swimming in water as clear here as in Greece, their hair streaming behind them. They were naked. Their distant voices cried ‘Super! Oh, it’s super!’ Super for some. Would he lay the salad on the rock and would a girl cry, ‘Oh Bobby, what a super salad dressing. What did you put in it? I’ve never tasted anything like it, it’s super.’

Her heart steadied, her breathing slowed. Matilda looked at the view. She was humming a Brandenburg Concerto now. Away to the west were other beaches but all with easy access and car parks. What to do?

Back to the car.

She shouldered her bag, picked up the basket, walked along the cliff, strolling slowly. There was heaps of time. The tide must go out, pause, and come in again. She had to fill in time. That was all. A little more waiting didn’t matter. The car smelt of hot metal. Matilda opened the windows, started the engine and drove slowly to the town down the steep streets to the harbour car park. With difficulty she found a place. She locked the picnic basket in the car and set off to wander round.