Nipping along the passage, she quietly mounted Ker-an- Mor’s stairs, intending to look out across the fields which swept all the way down to the cliff edge, but instead she found herself in the bedroom where Oliver had been sleeping recently. Where they had slept together during the harvesting most years, when he worked alongside the men and she helped the women with the food and ale. The bed, on which they had fallen exhausted and content, or made love in, staying all night in each other’s arms, was neatly made.

Her things were not quite in place, as if someone had picked them up and placed them down without thinking where they actually belonged. Oliver was carelessly untidy but everything was in order. It didn’t seem right. Nothing was right.

Downstairs just now, Oliver had looked lost and soulless, and emotional in the way of one not being in control as he had taken Harry in his arms. She wanted to descend the stairs and beg Oliver to come home, to suggest they reconcile even if they couldn’t make up their differences, and resume their marriage with whatever each had to offer.

But Clem would be there in some form or other, in the way. She knew why she had kept Clem’s things, part of her had always wanted him and always would. Oliver’s reaction to finding those simple gifts of twenty-four years ago was understandable, but it did not excuse the extent of his jealous behaviour.

A feeling of oppression closed in on her. What was she to do about the two men she loved? Her feelings for Oliver were just as strong. So were those she had felt for Clem when they had first fallen in love. She had been suppressing them but now no longer could. If she was to turn to either of them, duty should make Oliver the obvious choice, but she had given her first promise to Clem. She felt as if she was being wrenched in half.

She rejoined Oliver, knocking first on the door and waiting for his call. He was sitting in an armchair with Harry laid on his knees, making him chuckle by tickling his tummy. Oliver had played with all his children in this way. Kerensa was reminded what an attentive and loving father he was – few men gave this kind of acknowledgement to their offspring.

She sat down on the deep-cut window seat. ‘He likes you.’

‘Yes, I believe he does. I’m missing Kane so very much. How is he today?’

‘Much the same. Dr Crebo says the wound looks a little less anguished, but Kane is still very weak. I’m afraid I’ll have to take Harry home soon before he gets hungry.’

Oliver gazed down at Harry. ‘Of course.’

‘You said you wanted us to talk?’

‘Yes, to ask you if you have everything you need?’ His tone was conversational, nothing more or less.

‘Yes, thank you.’