I turn towards my family: Dad fusses over baby Charlotte while Mum chats to Mel. I lower myself into a deckchair and try to focus on them, not Dan. On the magic that happens when people you care about come together: the crazy alchemy of it.

But it’s no good. He is all I can think about.

He’s close by again. I can tell. I open my eyes, shielding them against the sun with my hand. He’s rolled up his shorts so high that I can see the shape of his thighs.

‘I wouldn’t kick him out of bed,’ my mum whispers and I tut.

Neither would I.

My lips tingle with the memory of our kisses and the sensation spreads through my entire body.

Casey flops down onto the waterproof blanket and Mum offers her a drink.

‘I am so tired, but so happy,’ Casey says.

For a moment I consider suggesting they leave before my sister shows up: I don’t want her judgemental tendencies to spoil the mood. But that’s daft. There’s no rational reason why Laura wouldn’t approve of Dan, when everyone else does . . . It’s gone so well, I could hug the world.

‘Bear’s not tired yet. Fancy a game of catch?’ Dan suggests, and when I struggle to climb out of the deckchair, he reaches down to help me up. I take his hand without thinking, but the sudden movement makes the chair collapse underneath me with a clatter and I brace myself to hit the hard sand.

But Dan jumps forward and pulls me upright. His strength sends a wave of something primal through me.

Not pure lust this time. It’s . . . the knowledge that he would not have let me fall. I am so tired of handling everything alone.

Bear is jumping up as if to say, You’re not alone. I’m here. You’ll never be on your own with me. And I laugh at his sand-speckled muzzle face and his skinny-wet paws. Bear has helped me to feel so many things again.

But a dog – even this one-of-a-kind dog – is not enough.

‘I always forget how far out the tide goes here,’ Dan says when we’re out of Mum’s earshot.

‘It’s not nicknamed Weston-super-Mud for nothing. When the tide’s out, it’s hard work swimming. Or skinny-dipping. Though every teenager here gives it a go at least once.’

Why did I say that?

His expression makes me realize why. Back in lust mode.

‘Including you?’

I nod as his eyes travel from my face down the length of my body, the silky dress clinging to my shape where the water wicks up the fabric. ‘We were kids. Well, seventeen. I seem to remember scrumpy was involved. What about you?’

‘Yeah, in the Caribbean. Rum punch was involved. Back when my life was more rock ’n’ roll.’ He winks at me.

‘I skinny-dipped in Ibiza too, on my first holiday without my parents. I was nineteen. But I think it’s the kind of behaviour you outgrow.’