‘She had a funny look in her eye. I didn’t like to say no.’

‘Don’t let me catch you at it again. Here you are, Madam.’ He handed the Brie in its paper bag to Matilda. ‘Glad to be of assistance.’

‘I don’t suppose she’ll ask me again, she never has before.’ The girl watched Matilda leave the shop.

‘Did she pay for the butter?’

‘Paid for half a pound and only wanted what I used on the rolls. I think she’s a nutter.’

There was a ticket under the windscreen wiper of the car. Matilda handed it to a passer-by, who examined it, puzzled, then shouted, ‘Hey!’ as she drove away without looking back.

Parking the car at the usual place, she sauntered along the cliff path, looking down at the sea, which was calm but grey. The beach was empty, the season over. She was glad she had her sweater, wished she was wearing socks. It was chilly and her foot bruised where she had dropped the spade. She sang softly going down the cliff path:

‘I paid a shilling to see

A tattooed La-a-dy.’

Reaching the sand, she kicked off her espadrilles, leaving them to lie, hurrying barefoot to the far end of the beach to the flat rock.

‘And right down her spine

Were the King’s Own Guard in line.’

The rock was cold when she sat on it. She shivered, unpacking the rolls and Brie, standing the Beaujolais carefully so that it would not topple over. She felt in the bag for the corkscrew.

‘Oh God! I’ve left it behind.’ She began to weep. ‘It’s got to be there –’ She tipped the bag over, shaking it. No corkscrew. A sheet of paper slid to her feet.

Darling Matilda. Hugh’s writing, a little blurred by the damp towel. I love you. I can’t impose my life on yours. I must go away. I love you. You are the kind of woman my mother would have loved. You are what I have wanted, what she wanted for me. I thought she knew nothing of love, was old, naïve. Christ, this is an impossible letter to write. Forgive me. Folly will look after you, hook on to her. She belongs to us both, just hook on. Killing my mother was an accident. She was terrified of mice. Don’t laugh. There was a mouse on the sofa. She cried to me for help. I smashed at it with the tray as she moved. I’ve been too embarrassed to tell anyone. Please don’t laugh, though I love your laughter. Hugh.