‘Not until Saturday morning. The usual flexible life.’

‘Some people couldn’t cope with that.’

‘What about you?’

‘Got used to it,’ she said, and took a sip of wine. ‘Makes for a nomadic life. Maybe that’s why I’m still single.’

‘Do you mind that?’

‘Oh, sometimes. Other times it’s OK. Depends where the job takes me. If it’s coming to places like this, then I can hack it. But if I’m stuck in some seedy B&B or a motel that has nylon sheets and walls as thick as cardboard, I’d happily swap it.’

They were interrupted by the arrival of their food. Tiger had steak and fries, Sam a grilled lemon sole. The young waitress laid them down and did a little bob before leaving them to eat.

‘Bon appétit,’ said Tiger.

‘And you. And thanks for being so welcoming. Some guys wouldn’t take quite so kindly to a girl invading their patch.’

‘Oh, I don’t really see it like that,’ said Tiger. ‘There’s enough to go round.’

They talked easily over the meal. Tiger telling about his father, then about his time in the Air Force–the countries where he had flown and stories of narrow escapes. Of helicopters falling off the sides of ships, of others that crashed into the sea. And then he became aware that he was doing all the talking.

‘I’m sorry. All these Boy’s Own stories. Boring the pants off you.’

Sam shook her head. ‘No, you’re not. It’s good to hear someone who’s keen on their job.’

‘Yes, but I can talk about other things.’

‘Like what?’

‘I don’t know. English topography.’

‘That’s a conversation stopper if ever I heard one.’

He noticed that her face lit up when she laughed.

‘Well, I can tell you about lighthouses and burial mounds and barrows.’

‘OK, then,’ she teased, ‘so what do you know about the Scilly Isles?’

‘For a start I know that if you call them that the inhabitants will shoot you. They’re called “Scilly”–a bit like the Scots hating to be called Scotch.’

‘Anything else?’

Tiger took a deep breath. ‘I know that the island of Samson was inhabited until eighteen fifty-five and that Harold Wilson, who was Labour Prime Minister from nineteen sixty-four to nineteen seventy and nineteen seventy-four to nineteen seventy-six, used to have a holiday home on St Mary’s.’

‘Is that it?’

‘I also know that the gardens on Tresco hardly ever have a frost and that means they have the finest collection of Mediterranean plants in Britain. Will that do for starters?’

‘What a mine of information you are.’

‘I know. Deadly, isn’t it?’

She shook her head. ‘Oh, I don’t think so. You can make people laugh and that’s what’s important.’

Tiger looked reflective. ‘Yes. Only I don’t seem to have done that a lot lately,’ he murmured.