The street light outside the churchyard gates was broken but there was a light on in the church itself. Karl trudged up the path past the bowing headstones, and as he got closer, he heard the soft whine of the organ from within. His heart rate quickened as he approached the front door because he knew who was on the other side of the door. Whose fingers were gently caressing the keys, playing a sad melody. Just for him.

He nudged the door open and peered through.

The church was small. Seven or eight rows of seats divided by a central aisle leading to a raised area and eventually the altar. An impressive-looking cross, ten feet high, dominated the rear wall in front of a circular stained-glass window, although the scene portrayed was not one that Karl recognised.

There she was. Like an angel. Two fingers moving absent-mindedly along the organ keyboard. Her hair was tied back in a ponytail and how he wished she had worn something more feminine, a black dress like the one he remembered from the Three Monkeys’ Ball, but even in black jeans and a beige jacket she looked as perfect as he had imagined, hardly different from the young girl who had danced with him all those years ago.

Karl stood in the doorway, mesmerised, until she sensed the door had opened and turned, flashing him a hypnotic smile.

Her smile faded, of course, on seeing him, but he had expected that. He had deceived her, no doubt. Saying that the lawyer had wanted to meet her at the church tonight had not been the truth, but it had guaranteed that she would be here. Priest had been the one to deceive her, not him, with his money and muscles. He doesn’t know you like I know you, Elinor.

‘Elinor?’ he said, with the hope and wonder of a child.

She frowned, her reply faltered and she turned back to the organ. ‘Sorry,’ she mumbled. ‘I was expecting someone else.’

He shuffled forward, ducking his head under the church door. ‘No, you weren’t. Elinor, it’s me.’

She looked back, startled. Perhaps she hadn’t heard him call her name before. ‘Who are you?’ She slipped off the organ seat and approached the lectern to get a better view.

‘It’s me,’ Karl repeated. ‘I . . . I know it’s been a long time.’ He found it difficult to talk, something was impeding his mind from articulating what he wanted to say. I sound like an idiot! She was just so beautiful. And how she stood, with her hips slightly lopsided, how playful she looked. Like the little girl she had been before she jumped off the edge of Devil’s Point.

She was staring at him, recognition dawning on her. She knows me!

‘My name is Karl Jones, but at uni everyone knew me by my middle name – Michael. You remember me, don’t you, Elinor?’