He ordered a glass of red wine to accompany what was left of his steak, conscious of the fact that the following morning they would be flying. Finally, at a quarter to midnight, Sam said, ‘I think we’d better be going.’

They walked along the harbour wall and looked out across the calm water, where pleasure boats and fishing smacks bobbed on their moorings, and the halyards of yachts chimed gently against their masts in the evening breeze. The moon was almost full, and casting its light in silvery shards across the rippling water.

As they approached the door of the hotel at the far end of the harbour they stopped and gazed at the view.

‘Perfect,’ murmured Tiger. ‘Just perfect.’

‘Yes,’ she agreed. ‘Perfect.’ Then she turned and kissed him on the lips.

Chapter 12

Thy wife shall be as the fruitful vine: upon the walls of thine house.

Thy children like the olive branches: round about thy table.

Psalm 128.3

As far as Christopher was concerned, Friday should have been a day off much like any other day off. He had explained to the Romsey practice that he would be unable to cover for them that day. He did not feel a need to explain why. It was his birthday. Nobody else needed to know, but he wanted to be at home on his own. To potter about. Take time to reflect. Maybe have a beer with his lunch.

Maria did not work on Fridays, so there would be no Italian delicacies today. He had not told her of the day’s significance. He got up at half past seven to a clear blue sky and the sound of blackbirds and thrushes singing their hearts out.

He sipped his morning coffee and looked out over the frosted grass, sparkling in the early slant of amber sunlight that filtered through the branches of the yew tree. The dew on the cobwebs that stretched across the topiary box bushes glinted like diamonds. A good day to be up early. A good day to have a birthday.

But then his thoughts turned to Reggie Silverwood. He would call later for an update on his progress. And to Maria. He wondered what she would be doing. She had no children at home now, Erica had said, so how would she fill her day? And then he thought about Kate. He tried not to think of her too often. To do so was to be overtaken by a deep sadness born of guilt and errors of omission. He tried not to slip into the ‘if only’ frame of mind, and as he felt the black mood approaching, he jinked his mind sideways, as a hare jinks in a field when chased. He could usually rely on it to work. Today he wasn’t sure.