She stops when she’s parallel to the white yacht. It has its sails half winched in and it rocks in the water. Linus is wearing a blue fisherman’s smock and he takes off his cap.

‘Welcome aboard,’ he says and he reaches out for her hand and helps her hop from the dock. For a second, they are pressed together. Although the years have shrunk them both, their proportions are the same. She doesn’t see an old man, but the boy she fell in love with all those years ago.

‘Helga. You came.’

And she feels a huge wave of relief sweep over her, because she knows. It’s just as Dominica said it would be. She knows right in her core that this is where she’s meant to be. That her and Linus were destined for each other and that, from this moment on, her life will be inseparable from his.

‘I have something for you,’ she says, taking the note out of her pocket. He takes it, recognising his own faded handwriting, and his eyes widen. ‘I know I’m fifty years too late, but I want you to know that it’s my biggest regret that I never showed up that day,’ she says. ‘And that’s why it’s so good to finally be meeting you on the dock.’

He looks at her, sunlight dancing in his eyes, then he pulls her close and hugs her. She hears him sigh. ‘Better late than never,’ he whispers, and he kisses the top of her head. Helga feels as if a hatch door has opened somewhere inside her and she’s like a bird that has been set free.

He takes her on a tour of his yacht and Helga is already in love with it by the time they get to the neat cabin, where he goes to the small fridge and gets two beers for them. Her mind is already racing ahead to them playing Scrabble at night, as she sees the battered box behind the elastic netting. She can’t believe she’s back on a yacht. It feels as if her soul is singing.

They go back on deck and talk about Linus’s journey here and she listens to his adventure, more sure than ever that she’s going to be on the next one with him. She asks if he’s tired and when he says he’s not, she asks him if they can go for a spin.

She loves watching how nimble he is, as he pulls in the bulky white fenders.

‘Can you grab that rope?’ he asks, and she pulls in the tow line, instinctively remembering what to do, the muscle memory of holding a rope so strong, it instantly makes her feel young. They work effortlessly as a team, as they used to long ago.

He reverses out of the berth and they motor out through the harbour walls.

‘Where are we going?’ she asks, as she stands next to him at the wheel, her arms around him, her face turned to the sun and the salty breeze.