Kate shrugged her shoulder. ‘Menus are ecologically unfriendly and as every plate we serve is seasonal and dependent on local produce, they change daily. But I think we can manage to remember the dishes we serve.’ This was said with such an air of defensiveness that reminded him of Lily’s earlier response. London, New York, Singapore. They might be in a small Devon seaside town, but the pride they both had was as bright as the best of them. But she wasn’t done yet. ‘And you’re not driving?’

At her question, the whole restaurant came to a stop.

Henry closed his eyes on the sudden blank whole that his mind and mouth had become. ‘I—’

‘We’re hot on that kind of thing round here, and if you’re going to have wine with each course then—’

‘No. Not driving,’ he bit out, refusing to acknowledge the other diners who, after a moment, resumed their meals. He could tell that Kate hadn’t realized the impact of her question. It hadn’t been a mean dig, at the accident, at the past, but something that both he and Lily, and perhaps all the girls – Malie, Zoe and Victoria – still took with them into the present.

After closing down another paying table, Kate returned from the kitchen and placed a small granite chopping board on the table in front of him. The incredible smell hit him like a tsunami. Gin and juniper, sweet and sour, the heady peppery mustard from the dressing struck his nose and made his mouth water. Wafer-thin crunchy slices of toasted rye bread stacked up in a decent pile and the generous portion of cured salmon looked so delicious, he didn’t know where to start.

He looked up to say thank you, but Kate had gone. And only now did he realize that he was the last customer in the restaurant. He checked his watch and was horrified to see that it was nearly nine thirty.

Provincial they might not be, but he doubted they were used to serving customers at this time at the night. His conscience stirred his stomach, which growled in response at having thus far been denied the delectation of what was in front of him.

As he arranged a generous sliver of pink flesh on to the rye bread, he dimly noted sounds from the kitchen, a male and female voice departing as if out through the back of the restaurant, just audible over the ambience of softly played music.