Max sits down at the table. She knows that he is trying to marshal all kinds of arguments against her plan but is unable to think of anything really plausible, apart from the fact that he wants to remain in Salcombe. She also knows that it’s in his nature to weigh up both sides and see things rationally. She’s counting on this and on his loyalty. Once Cara and Sam come back it will be difficult for him to be as outspoken as he might be if they were alone. She’s factored this in and hopes it will count on her side.

‘If you’re totally committed to spending the rest of your life here,’ she says lightly, ‘then that’s that, I suppose we’ll stay. But do at least consider it. We’ll ask Cara what she thinks when she comes back.’

He looks up at her, almost alarmed. ‘You’re going to tell her?’

She stares back at him as if puzzled by his question. ‘Of course. Why not? Cara’s part of the equation. We could sell the house, anyway, but I think we’d be doing her a favour as well as saving money on fees and things. Want a cup of tea?’

He nods and she turns away to fill the kettle. Some instinct tells her that the first round is to her.

Max listens to the sound of the tea-making, his thoughts fluttering in his head like moths around a lamp. His first reaction is dismay. Ever since they bought the house back in the eighties, when the submarine was running out of Devonport, he’s loved being in Salcombe. They never spent very long here – Judith preferred to move with him, letting out the house when they went to Washington and Naples – but it was here to return to, waiting for the time when they could retire and live here permanently.