‘Sorry, old boy,’ Cosmo murmurs, putting his camera back on the seat. ‘You’ve got to remember that this is all new to me. It’s OK for you. You’re used to it.’

If Reggie could sigh and roll his eyes he’d be doing it now.

Cosmo laughs. ‘I can take a hint,’ he says cheerfully. ‘Home it is.’

Home. His home for the next few months is a contemporary miracle of stone, wood and glass. The converted barn is set near the head of the creek and Cosmo loves the barn’s light and space, its heavy wooden crossbeams high in the roof, and the floor-to-ceiling windows. He drives on, thinking about the circumstances that have brought him here: the decision to take a few months’ sabbatical from his job as a risk assessment analyst with an investment bank in London; his colleague Alistair telling him that his parents were trying to find a house-and-dog-sitter.

‘They had someone lined up,’ Al said, ‘but she’s cried off and they’ve got the cruise booked and everything. You’d love it down there.’

He and Al have been friends for the last five years, ever since they both joined the bank as graduates. When his parents invited Cosmo to Salcombe for a taster weekend, Al drove them both down from London. His parents, newly retired to their dream home, were delightful, Reggie was well behaved and benign, and even the problem that Cosmo doesn’t own a car was quickly set aside.

‘Mum’s old Suzuki is insured for the dog-sitter,’ Al told him. ‘And Dad has an account with the local wine merchant.’ He laughed. ‘Three months’ paid holiday in a dream location, mate. What’s not to like?’

There is nothing, yet, not to like. Two weeks in and London has become unreal. As Cosmo descends the wooden staircase each morning, seeing from those huge windows the ever-changing creek, it’s almost impossible to imagine the rush and bustle of the city, the noise and clamour of the Tube. At low tide the mud shines, smooth and soft as toffee, an egret paces at the margins and gulls bicker; at high tide the reflections are breathtaking. On fine mornings Cosmo makes coffee and carries it out on to the apron of lawn with Reggie at his heels. Sometimes it’s so early that the whole scene is in monochrome. Then the sun rises slowly out of huge grey pillows of cloud and the creek is transformed.

Now, as he drives, Cosmo is aware of the last crowns of pale honeysuckle trailing in the hedgerows, the rosy flush of hawthorn berries and the ripening blackberries. Four small fields, neatly divided by hedges, are spread like a flag on the side of a hill. Each field is a different colour: rich red earth, pale gold stubble, brilliant green grass, and dull brown mud. Cosmo brakes and leans from the window to take another photograph.