Afterwards, Ava got up to stand in the doorway, limping a little, stretching out cramped muscles. The waves had crept closer, he could feel the damp in the air. She draped her jumper awkwardly around her shoulders. He wanted to offer her his shirt, but found he was shy. What if she declined it? What then? And what did this afternoon mean? Were they lovers now? Or would they go back to their own sides of the line in the sand, and continue the conflict?

No. Think about that later. For now, just savour this moment. The glory of what had happened. The peace that lay over him. Ava yawned and stretched sleepily. He scooched over and patted the bed beside him, then felt ridiculous. It was her bed, he had no right to invite her in. If anything he should be getting out to make room. But she crawled in beside him, fitting herself neatly against the curve of his legs and belly. He stroked her thigh, and felt a prickle of reawakening desire. Her hair was fine and soft against his chin.

“I knew you were in disguise,” she murmured.

“In disguise as what?”

“Apparently all men are either horrible or boring. You like to pretend you’re boring, but you’re not at all really, are you?”

Did that mean he was horrible? He didn’t dare ask for fear of the answer.

“What happens now?” he asked instead.

She closed her eyes. “What do you want to happen now?”

He kissed the top of her head. Was this okay? Was it too much? He’d been inside her half an hour ago, how could he be unsure about kissing her? “I don’t know.”

“Well, wake me up when you do.” Ava’s voice was blurry with sleep and her eyelashes fluttered drowsily. “Don’t miss the tide.”

Donald checked his watch.

“It’s five o’clock. Where did the afternoon go?”

She didn’t bother to answer, just sighed and nestled closer, her breathing growing slower and deeper. It was hard to make himself move, but he had to get back – to the bar, to his daughter, to his real life. But then perhaps this was his real life.

“Can I see you again?” An absurd and gawky question, as if they were a pair of teenagers, not two grown adults with the freedom to do as they liked. Well, to do some of what they liked. Within the constraints of a normal existence, within the bounds of their responsibilities. With the knowledge that she was still married. Actually, now he came to think of it, teenagers were probably far more free.

She was asleep already, the candlelight kindly and warm, smoothing out the creases and turning her back into the girl she must have been on her wedding day. Before he left, he stopped to look for a moment, envying the man who had waited for her at the end of the aisle. Then he remembered his own wedding.

Ellen, he thought, I’m sorry, so sorry. He waited for the guilt, but found instead a stillness that could have been either loss or peace. It stayed with him all the way home, across the sands and into the bright warmth of the pub, the noise and the chaos of an unexpectedly busy evening’s trade and Mike’s son Mattie, harassed but manful, barely keeping on top of the orders.