If he’s honest, he knows that Judith hasn’t been quite so happy in Salcombe as he has since he retired, but then Judith has very specific requirements and he’s not certain that he knows where the perfect home for her might be. Nevertheless, it’s a very big step to take and he’s not sure that he’s ready for it. And as for suggesting that Cara should buy the house! Max gives a little snort of disbelief at Judith’s presumption. Why should Cara, after just a few weeks here, suddenly agree to make it her home, whilst he and Judith disappear away to Oxford? He had a twinge of temptation at the thought of trips down to see her, to be able to keep his boat and go sailing, to go to the pub and the Island Cruising Club, which would definitely be a plus, but the whole prospect dismays him. To pull up their roots and move to a place where they know very few people fills him with a kind of panic. Slowly he tries to see this panic clearly. He loves his family, loves to spend time with them, but he realizes that he needs his friends, too. The camaraderie of the navy has meant a great deal to him. He misses it. He finds it hard that he no longer has a specific role, a job that defines him. This sense of belonging, of being viable, has been replaced in part with his cronies at the sailing club and people like Jack Hannaford and a few others: mates down at the pub. He tries to imagine a life where there is no relief from Judith’s company and feels another shiver of panic, and an even stronger sense of guilt. Judith has been a loyal, capable wife and she’s devoted to Chris and Paul, but he worries that she is beginning to rely too much on her grandchildren as the focus of her life; to want too much influence in their lives. He tries, sometimes, tactfully to remind her how she resented her own mother’s interference when their boys were small but she can’t see the connection.

Judith puts the mug of tea down in front of him and he glances up at her, smiling his thanks. His smile isn’t particularly convincing and she pats his shoulder as if he is a recalcitrant child.

‘If you can just give yourself a chance to think about it clearly,’ she says, ‘you’ll see that it could be the best of both worlds.’

She puts her mug next to his and sits down beside him, pulling his laptop towards her, opening it. He watches her, puzzled, as she taps away.

‘This is just so as to give you some idea of what we could afford,’ she tells him, ‘assuming we decide to go for it. Now then …’