“Hoodwinked.” Ava sighed happily. “That’s a fabulous word. Actually I was thinking of the day we took Alicia off in the van for the day without asking you. I’m sorry. We should have asked permission.”

“As if you ever asked permission in your life.”

“My God, is that how you see me?” He couldn’t tell if she was amused or upset. “When Finn and I… ” her hand twitched. Coffee slopped onto her leg. “Ow. Damn it!”

“Are you all right?” he had his arm around her before he could stop himself, a tender reflex ingrained by years of single parenthood. He felt the shock of the burn as if it was on his own skin.

“No, it’s fine, it was going cold anyway.”

“Of course it’s not cold, your jeans are steaming! Take them off, you idiot. Let’s see the damage.”

She rolled her jeans down reluctantly, exposing a pale red mark on her thigh.

“It’s nothing,” she told him.

“Don’t be stupid. Burns take hours to come out properly. Have you got cold water? I’ll make a compress.”

“I said it’s fine.”

“Are you always this bloody stubborn?”

“Are you always this bloody rude?”

“Will you stop arguing and let me help you!”

There were tears in her eyes. He resisted the urge to wipe them away.

“Please,” he said, gentle in spite of himself. “Let’s call a truce while we clear the wounded off the battlefield.”

Inside the beach hut, Ava seemed to become more at ease, kicking off her boots and peeling herself out of the jeans. Donald cast around and found a mug and some kitchen roll. The water-tank was half-filled. He improvised a ragged compress, holding it gingerly over the burn. Rivulets of water dripped onto the wooden floor. Close up, he could smell the oiled wool of Ava’s sweater, the salt in her hair, the warmth of her sweat.

“How’s that?” he asked, wishing she would take the compress from him so he could move away.

“Better. Thank you. And sorry.”

“Sorry for what?”

“Being stubborn.”

“It’s okay.” His back was beginning to ache. He let the compress go and stood up. “It’s annoying to need help from someone you don’t like.”

“I didn’t need your help.”

He turned away and found himself facing a map of Scandinavia. A large red pin was stuck into Iceland. “That’s the bit you’re going to argue with. Not actually, I do like you.”

“Why would I like you? You want me evicted from my home.”

“Well, you keep luring my daughter down here.”

Ava laughed. “Nobody lures her anywhere. She just turns up.”

“You give her tea and biscuits and talk to her. Of course she just turns up.”

“You make her sound like a stray dog. It’s polite to offer guests refreshments.”

He turned around so he could glare at her. “Does that mean I get a cup of tea and a biscuit, then? Shall I help myself, or are you going to make them for me?”