On deck she said good morning cheerily, not looking over at Luke. Katherine, strapped tightly into her life jacket, was throwing scraps of eggy bread over the side at the gulls that swept untidily down to bag them. Luke was steering – he raised a hand to her and then turned back to his task. That was all.

‘Hello, gorgeous,’ shouted Mickey. ‘Let me slice you a cold peach.’

‘How nice of you. Are you still feeling fine?’

‘Yup. But I’ll never eat oysters again – don’t you dare say anything, Neil, or I’ll push you in the water and wipe that smug look off your face.’

‘I’m not saying anything.’

‘How about you after plunging in the lake again yesterday evening?’

Irene felt a blush burning its way up her body. ‘Fine,’ she said.

‘You must have been pissed.’

‘Maybe.’

‘They fell in the lake,’ Mickey bellowed to Lorrie and Neil. He was behaving as if he had drunk half a bottle of whisky.

‘Really,’ Neil said drily.

‘Both of them were wet through.’

‘It was a warm evening,’ said Irene. ‘It seemed like a good idea at the time.’

She spread apricot jam over half a croissant and stood up.

‘Can I look through your binoculars?’ she said to Luke.

‘Sure. Here.’

She sat beside him on the bench and he handed her the binoculars. His fingers brushed hers. Their knees touched. Irene held her breath, tried to stop the fool’s grin cracking her face into a gargoyle. She put the binoculars to her eyes and stared blindly across the glare of water.

‘Sleep OK?’

‘Couldn’t,’ he said, not looking round at her.

‘Me neither.’

‘Here,’ called Mickey. ‘You’ll be able to see the mouth of the Canal du Midi through those. Bring them over here, Irene. Come on! Hey, Lorrie, come and have a look too.’

‘You should clearly be sick more often. I haven’t seen you this cheerful since – oh, I dunno,’ said Lorrie, joining them at the bow of the boat.

‘Since Sandy left.’

‘Maybe.’

‘I dreamt about her last night. I dreamt I was chasing her with a big tub of salt, trying to pour it over her heels and the kids were running after me holding on to my shirt tails.’

‘Obvious. You want to kill her,’ said Neil, from above them.

‘What?’ said Katherine, her attention snagged. ‘Who are you going to kill?’

‘No one.’

‘Sometimes I do want to kill her. Taking my children away from me. Children need their fathers too, you know. Research shows that.’

‘What do you think should happen then?’ asked Irene.

‘What?’

‘Do you think they should be with you most of the time?’

‘She was the one who left. Went off with another man.’

‘I know. But what should happen now to the children, what’s best for them? That’s what matters.’

‘Salt,’ said Neil. ‘That’s how to kill sea monsters – put salt on their tails.’