Cosmo is unable to sleep. Cold, bright moonlight pours into his bedroom and he gets up and goes to the window as if he is being drawn by invisible tides. He stares out at the monochrome landscape and suddenly, on some impulse, he begins to drag on his clothes. He needs to be out in this strange night-time world, in this uncanny light.

Reggie raises his head as Cosmo comes into the kitchen but he makes no attempt to rise. Cosmo pulls on his jacket and lets himself out into the night, walking up towards the coastal path, gazing around him in awe. There’s a chill little breeze that riffles the waters of the estuary so that the moon’s reflection is shivered into a thousand jagged silver pieces that resemble a shattered glass bauble. He walks with his hands driven deep into his pockets, noting the definition of each twig and stone, listening to the high-pitched scream of a small stricken animal and the eerie screech of an owl. There is something exhilarating about this light, which ruthlessly searches out each hiding place and exposes every secret. It seems to probe deep into his own heart, showing him his weaknesses; his faithlessness.

Cosmo pauses, clenching his hands into fists, examining his conscience.

After all, he excuses himself, nobody is being hurt.

He can’t understand this passion that makes it absolutely necessary to surrender himself to this moment in time, which is offering him an extraordinary alternative universe, including this magical place – and Amy. He needs to take it, to explore it, to experience it, whilst, at the same time, keeping London and his work and Becks in a separate time capsule. This evening with Amy has been so good. How warm she was, how pleased to see him, and he remembers how she’d breathed the words ‘I think I love you’ when he’d held her tightly in his arms.

Cosmo stands drenched in the moon’s brilliance, seeing himself clearly in its merciless light yet unable to accept its truth. He knows that he is cheating, lying, yet he cannot give up this excitement; this sensation of feeling so vitally alive. There is a noise in the hedge behind him, a scuffling of dried grass, the snapping of a twig. He turns quickly in time to see a shadow racing along the ditch, disappearing into a burrow. Cosmo glances around him, hearing again the owl’s cry near at hand. One creature at least is safe from those talons and the cruel curved beak, and Cosmo smiles to himself. He sees it as a sign, a portent. Success is to the swift: to those who see their opportunities and seize them. Somehow things will work out, he knows they will. He turns up his collar and heads for home.