‘That may be so,’ she said rather bitterly, ‘but it doesn’t mean he wants to marry me, he hardly notices me.’

Oliver lightly kissed her forehead. ‘If he doesn’t one day soon then he is the biggest fool on God’s earth.’

Rosie pulled away and arranged her hair back into its neat plait. With a weak smile, she said, ‘Thank you for showing me the foxes, sir. I’ll never forget them. You really ought to bring Kerensa here to see them, specially next spring when more than likely there will be a litter of cubs as well.’

Oliver looked vacantly across the hideout at a picture he had painted of a raging storm sweeping into Trelynne Cove. ‘I’ll do that, Rosie… one day.’

Rosie wanted to be alone but she allowed him to escort her back to the stepping stones. The ground was slippery from a sudden heavy shower of rain they had not heard in their intimate moments in the hideout. She crossed the stream and walked on carefully until she knew she was nearly out of his sight. Instinct made her turn round and Oliver was still there, watching her, and some of Rosie’s guilt and shame melted at this show of courtesy and concern. He raised his hand in a small wave, like a salute to a friend.

Oliver returned to the hideout with the hope in his heart that the adverse aspects of the afternoon Rosie had spent with him would not stay in her mind for too long. His eyes found the painting of Trelynne Cove. In his mind’s eye he saw a poignant vision of Kerensa walking along the beach holding hands with Clem Trenchard as they must have done in the days of their betrothal. It was strange, he thought, how all the females closest to Clem were drawn to him. It was no wonder Clem hated him so much. He had taken Kerensa away and then she had fallen in love with him. Alice had turned to him for comfort in her moments of despair. Even Clem’s small daughter wasn’t shy of him and had climbed up on his lap. And now Rosie.