‘I’ll look after him,’ says Verity, marching on the spot next to us. ‘We can take it in turns.’

‘Actually, I probably shouldn’t do it. I had a Caesarean and I don’t want to rip any stitches.’

‘Pretty sure, they’d be healed by now, Soph. Alfie’s almost six months old,’ shouts Douglas.

‘He lives,’ she calls back to him, before muttering under her breath, ‘for now.’

‘Douglas, are you going to make it?’ asks Joel.

‘I might just go for a swim.’

‘It’ll be freezing.’ Soph shivers and pulls a face.

‘That’s exactly what I need,’ he says.

‘If it’s that cold, I’m not sure I want to do this, you know, in case we fall in, I say.’

‘That’s what makes it exciting,’ says Verity. ‘Plus it’s good motivation to find your balance.’

‘If she doesn’t want to join in, that’s her choice.’ Joel gets down off the wall.

‘Come on, Edie, you can’t back out now. Trust me, you’re going to love it.’ Verity looks straight at me, raising an eyebrow.

I’m about to tell her I’d rather give it a miss, but then I remember that today is a day of saying yes.

‘Yes, I’ll do it.’

She pats me on the back and I don’t miss the flash of annoyance on Joel’s face as we get ready to go.

I arrive at the beach a hot, sweaty mess after the drive that seemed to take hours, despite it only being five minutes. I made the stupid mistake of changing into my wetsuit on the quay, so that I could use the changing cubicle, forgetting how hot neoprene could be, not to mention how uncomfortable it is to wear sitting down. Whilst Joel and Verity start to organise the boards on the beach, I try and pull the wetsuit out of all the places it got wedged into on the way over. Poor Miles is bent over double. He spent most of the drive like a dog hanging his head out of the window.

Verity walks over in bikini bottoms and a rash vest and holds out her phone to me.

‘Hey, Edie, would you mind taking a photo of me and Joel? Gotta have photographic evidence of all the love, right?’ she says, slipping an arm round Joel’s shoulders and pouting.

I try and ignore the ripple of irrational jealousy that flashes over me. Especially that he doesn’t seem to be uncomfortable with her using the L word. I take a couple of snaps and then hand back the phone.

Soph settles herself on a towel and she tries to stop Alfie eating sand by encouraging him instead to place it on a sleeping Douglas.

‘I fully expect him to be buried under it when we come back,’ calls Joel, turning his attention back to the boards.

‘That’s the plan.’ She winks back.