‘I didn’t. It wasn’t quite light, but I’ll check the photos.’

‘You took snaps in the dark? She’d be disorientated by the flash. Did you happen to see if she made it back to the sea?’ He stared at the waterline.

She wanted to rest her head on his shoulder. ‘No, once I’d taken some selfies of me catching a ride on her back, I left.’ She forced her eyelids up and caught the shock on his face and would have laughed if she’d had the energy. Harry, she realised, was simply concerned for the turtle’s welfare.

‘Oh . . . you’re joking, right?’ He looked slightly embarrassed. ‘Sorry. Sometimes, tourists, you know, have no idea.’

‘I need to go. Thanks for the lift,’ she said, pushing herself to her feet then headed towards her room, across the road.

Shelly stood on her balcony for a moment. Below, Harry swung the quadbike around and headed back to the dive centre. She peered out towards the distant lighthouse and imagined her great-grandmother sleeping in one of the nearby houses, exhausted from her ordeal, or looking out at the very same view.

Minutes later, she slid under a crisp white sheet, closed her eyes, and drifted into a dream that recalled scenes from the first Greek island she had ever visited, Paros.

In her mind, she was floating on her back, arms and legs spread. The sun, warm, on her face and belly, and the absolute bliss of being on holiday, alone, with her first, real, boyfriend. The glory of being in love, of sleeping in his arms, of knowing he loved her. The certainty that one day they would marry, have children, and live happily ever after.

Shelly slept with a smile on her lips, hugging her pillow. ‘David . . .’ she murmured in her dreams.

*

Sun streamed through the hotel’s window. Shelly, disorientated for a moment, wondered where she could be and why she lay in bed when it was clearly daytime. She blinked at her suitcase, relaxed, and gathered her thoughts. The little fish-shaped clock on the wall told her it was mid-afternoon. She would check out the next beach, go for a snorkel, eat local food, and sleep with the balcony doors open and the sound of the sea drifting in. Perfect.

She phoned work, relieved to hear Eve was managing perfectly well without her. Then, she called her dad, he didn’t answer. Right after dinner, she would find a frivolous gift for each of them. Now she felt better. A small task to complete would give her day a sense of purpose.