‘Hugh squeezed a blob onto his finger and applied it to his nose. ‘Thanks.’ He gestured to the waiter for the bill. ‘Let’s go and swim. Will you take me to your death beach?’

‘It’s a long walk.’

‘Our lunches can settle before we swim, then we won’t get cramp.’

Driving to the cliff, walking down the steep path to the beach, Matilda felt a surge of happiness. She called cheerfully to Folly who raced up and down the path, passing so close to their feet that she nearly tripped them.

‘It’s a golden afternoon.’

Hugh nodded, enjoying the moment, the pretty dog, the sun, the sea. Matilda ran barefoot on the sand at the cliff bottom, racing along to the flat rock she considered hers. They sat in the sun before undressing and Matilda, remembering the young people’s barbecue, told Hugh about it.

‘There was a girl who kept saying “super”, everything was “super”. They wanted me to go away so that they could use this rock. If it hadn’t been for them I shouldn’t have met you. I had my picnic with me, I was going to swim out.’

‘From here?’

‘Yes. See that smooth bit of water? That’s the current. It carries you out past the lighthouse. Tom was caught in it once. He was lucky, he was picked up by a boat.’

‘What was the plan? You’ve never told me.’

‘To eat my Brie and rolls, swallow my pills, wash them down with Beaujolais, then I reckon I could just make the water. The current would have done the rest. The tide has to be exactly right.’

‘Drowned people look disgusting.’

‘Not like Ophelia?’

‘Not one bit. The body bloats.’

‘I shall be picked up long before I swell up. One of the fishing boats will find me.’

‘Horrible for them.’

‘Oh rubbish,’ said Matilda. ‘They’ll enjoy it, tell their friends about it in the pub. I reckon my carcass is worth lots of rounds of drinks.’

‘Have you ever seen a dead body?’

‘I don’t think I have. Let’s swim.’ Hugh ran down the beach into the water and swam.

‘Put my foot in it,’ Matilda said to Folly. ‘He’s seen his mother’s. Sit by our clothes, there’s a good dog.’

Folly wagged humbly and stayed watching anxiously as Matilda walked down to the water.

Matilda swam, watching Hugh’s head moving away from her. ‘Dear God,’ she said aloud. ‘I’ve put ideas into his head, he won’t come back, he’s gone.’ She called loudly and waved her arm. ‘Hugh, come back!’ He swam on, his head growing smaller on her horizon. A small wind sprang up, flipping the sea into waves. ‘Hugh!’ Matilda called. ‘Hugh!’ A wave filled her mouth, making her gag.