‘Thanks.’ He’s whispering too. ‘You’re the first person who’s ever understood that. My ex couldn’t understand why I had a “pretend tree from a Danny DeVito children’s film” tattooed on me. She thought it was a drunken dare or something. Didn’t even know it was a book first.’

‘Good clue as to where the “ex” part comes in.’

He laughs, looking as surprised by it as I am. It didn’t seem like a laughing moment. ‘I love the quote, I love the meaning of the story, and I love trees. Dad used to read it to me when I was little. One of my most vivid memories is snuggling up in bed with him and reading The Lorax together. When I was older and he was ill, I got into bed with him and read it aloud and neither of us could stop giggling. It was the last time I ever heard him laugh. He never approved of tattoos but I think he’d approve of that one.’

‘It’s beautiful,’ I murmur, my fingers stroking the skin of his ankle.

He sighs, looking lost in memories for a moment, until he suddenly shakes his head and yanks his foot out of my grasp. He starts straightening the socks on the sunny rock like they need the concentration of a chess game, and I struggle to take my eyes off him. He tucks his right foot behind his left leg so the tattoo is hidden again then smooths the wet bottoms of his trousers out, trying to squeeze river water from the material.

It obviously means a lot to him, and I want to ask about his father, but he definitely doesn’t want to talk about it anymore. ‘I didn’t think you got this much sun in Scotland.’

He looks over his shoulder at me with a dark eyebrow quirked, like he knows I’m offering a much-needed subject change. He holds my gaze for a long moment, before he shakes his head again and looks determinedly back out towards the river. ‘A common misconception. All right, we get more than our fair share of drizzle, but we’re generally treated to gorgeous autumns and a good bit of winter snow. It’s not for everyone but I think it’s perfect here.’

I make noises of agreement as he starts talking about the Scottish weather because I’m as grateful for the neutral conversation topic as he is. There’s something about him that makes me want to say too much, makes me want to know too much, and it can’t be good, because he obviously isn’t interested in sharing it with me. Besides, I definitely don’t want another man in my life – Steve was more than enough for one year. ‘What do you do with all your pumpkins?’