‘Poor Oscar is feeling his age,’ Cara is saying, ‘and all these stairs aren’t helping. It would have been sensible for him to stay downstairs after his walk but he can’t bear to be left out of anything.’ She grins. ‘But I so get that, don’t you? I can’t bear to be left out of things either so I can’t blame the poor old boy.’

Sam smiles back at her. ‘Max will have to put in a stairlift.’

‘Actually, that’s not a bad idea,’ says Cara, considering it. ‘He and Judith might need one before too long. It’s a long way up.’

‘When I come up those stairs straight into the kitchen I always feel I’m climbing a gangplank,’ he tells her. ‘I half expect somebody to be waiting at the top to pipe me aboard.’

‘Oh,’ exclaims Cara, ‘and that reminds me that I have to congratulate you on passing the Admiralty Interview Board. Well done!’

He feels pleased but faintly embarrassed. ‘Thanks,’ he says.

He wonders how she might react if he were to tell her of this weird confusion about his future, his thoughts about his father, but then he remembers that Cara’s husband died earlier in the year. She knows all about real loss and bereavement. He hears Max coming up the stairs and turns, getting up to clear a space on the low, long table for the tray Max is carrying.

‘Tea,’ announces Max, putting a large pot on the table. ‘Ordinary builders’ tea. No fancy stuff, I’m afraid. And there’s some lemon drizzle cake.’

He begins to pour the tea into the mugs and Sam glances around, at the view of the beaches across the estuary, and up at the skylight windows.

‘This room is fantastic,’ he says. ‘So much light. And the view is amazing.’

‘Not many people have their sitting-rooms in the attic,’ Max agrees, ‘but it seemed a pity to waste all this space and those views on a bedroom.’

‘Sam thinks you should install a stairlift,’ says Cara, drawing her mug towards her, ‘now that you and Judith are getting senile.’

She bursts out laughing at Sam’s protest and Max’s indignant expression, and Sam begins to laugh too.

‘I didn’t say that. Well, I did, but for Oscar, not for you.’

‘Poor old fellow.’ Max sits at the other end of the sofa, shifting Oscar slightly and patting him. ‘It’s not the best house for an elderly dog. You might have a point, actually. Well, it’s good to see you, Sam. I thought we might do some sailing while you’re here if you’re up for it. I’ll be taking the boat out of the water for the winter soon but we might get a few more weeks in if we’re lucky.’