‘They’ve gone!’ I call out to Dan.

The fear in his face mirrors my own.

I can’t lose anyone else.

‘Casey!’ He’s calling out and people are noticing now, asking questions. Who have you lost? Is it your daughter? She won’t have gone far. What was she wearing?

When they use the past tense, it sounds like an omen.

‘Casey?’ he shouts, with so much pain in that voice, which floors me every time. ‘Casey? CASEY!’

But his tone changes on that last Casey. From panic to relief. He’s elbowing curious families out of the way and I know he’s found her.

Please, please let Bear be with her.

And a path clears through the bodies and there they both are: Casey crouching down, letting Bear lick ice cream off an overflowing cone.

When she finally hears her name being called, she glances up and her surprised smile is so full of joy that I know neither of us will be able to stay cross with her. Bear ignores me, lapping more furiously at the ice cream, knowing he’s got seconds before I stop him enjoying this illicit treat.

Dan bounds over to Casey and throws his arms around her. She pulls an embarrassed face at me as he holds on, but her body nestles into his. She’s no idea how frightened we both were.

I decide to let Bear keep licking as I lean down to touch his warm back, as breath moves in and out of his broad ribcage.

I really, really can’t lose anyone else.

What am I doing here, letting myself care about Casey and Dan, and perhaps letting them care about me? It’s too soon, too dangerous. All the strength and the heat drain out of me and I’m starting to shiver.

Dan glances down at me and he seems to understand. ‘These crowds are pretty full-on. Shall we go to the apartment to cool down?’

I wasn’t expecting this.

The apartment is an enormous penthouse, a proper rockstar pad that really doesn’t match my image of where Dan would live. As Casey gives me the tour, I’m waiting for the moment when they both collapse into giggles and tell me they don’t live here at all – it was a wind-up.

I am confused. Sure, Jed told me Casey’s estranged father was wealthy. But I struggle to see why he would have bought something that manages to be showy and bland.

‘And the espresso maker cost about three thousand pounds, and the water cooler in the fridge gives you a choice of five different temperatures and it’ll even remember your personalized selection,’ Casey is saying.

Dan shuffles on the spot. It’s almost as if he’s ashamed of this conspicuous display of wealth.

She takes me onto the terrace – after checking Bear will be safe – and shows me the view. Now this I could live with. You’d never get bored watching the water.

‘It’s the best terrace on the harbour,’ Casey says.

‘Have you thought you might be an estate agent when you grow up?’ I say.