“Look,” he said. “ There are some things I wanted to tell you …” But by then they had reached the relative shelter provided by the rocky crevices. He was drawn immediately into the nearest huddle of birdwatchers, who wanted to gloat about what they had already seen. He released his grip on her and absently reached out for the tripod, which he began to make secure on a flat slab of rock. The moment of intimacy was lost. She thought she was a fool to have been taken in by it.

For the rest of the day he gave his attention to the admiring birdwatchers, who wanted to hear again the story of the new petrel, and to the sea. She might not have been there, and when she slipped away, he did not notice.

Rob Earl and Gerald Matthews walked together to the headland at first light, before the storm had reached its peak. As they walked past the cars parked at the end of the lane, Gerald twitched disapprovingly and muttered about the irresponsibility of people who should know better. Some had misted windows because the occupants were still sleeping. In others men were climbing stiffly from sleeping-bags, swearing at the cold, at Rose Pengelly who had refused to give them shelter in her home.

Rob Earl seemed not to notice the cold. He was wearing a frayed jersey with holes at the elbow and a thin denim jacket but no coat. He had not shaved since he had arrived in Cornwall and looked dark and dirty but rather glamorous. In contrast Gerald, wrapped in coat and scarf, seemed unadventurous, something of an old woman. He spoke, too, in petulant, shrewish bursts.

“I’m not sure I did the right thing in packing in the job with the electronics firm,” he said. “Look where I am now! No prospects, no future, not even any friends to speak of. At least if I’d stayed in Wiltshire, there would have been a real income. I’d have been able to afford holidays, a decent car. It’s time I settled down. I’m too old for this sort of thing.”

Rob Earl was preoccupied. At another time he might have put Gerald down with sharp and haughty sarcasm, but he seemed not even to hear. He stalked on ahead, his telescope already fixed to its tripod, balanced on his shoulder, like some space-age weapon of destruction.