“Morning,” he said, leaning over the desk in what he hoped was a friendly fashion. He could tell from the way the girl shrank back that it wasn’t working, and straightened up hastily. That made it worse – now he was blocking the light, his shadow falling across her personal space like the harbinger of an assault. Next time I’ll wear a cheap black suit and sunglasses, he thought wryly.

“What can I do for you?”

“I’d like to make a complaint,” he said.

“Can I ask what the complaint’s about?” Her smile was brittle and professional. Stop being so paranoid; she must be used to difficult people. And besides, damn it, I’m not being difficult! I’m not even getting angry –

“I’m reporting a case of trespass on council land.”

“Can I ask which site? If it’s the car park in Trevenna, we appreciate you taking the time but we are actually already aware, and we’re going through the process right now to… ”

“No, no, this is on a beach.” Huge, giant mistake. He was too big and too loud and too male to get away with talking over a young, pretty woman. Now he was the gobby misogynist oik with no manners. What did it matter? He had a valid complaint, she couldn’t ignore him; and besides, once the complaint was filed he’d never see her again.

“I see.” Her mouth drawn tight and prim. Assigning him to the category of you won’t believe what I had to deal with at work today! Something for her fiancé to get mad about. The ring on her finger was smaller than the one he’d given Ellen. “Why don’t you give me some details and we’ll take it from there.”

Half an hour later and he was back outside in the car park. Thirty minutes of his life gone, and for what? Ellen, at the end of a bad movie: Well, that’s ninety minutes of my life I’m never getting back. Her leg brushing casually against his as they stood up to leave, back when such jokes were funny, when they thought they had a wide ocean of years and months and weeks washing at their feet. Back when there was time to be cross or bored with each other, time to waste on bickering and sighs and being mad because the other one had forgotten to put on the dishwasher. The time they’d wasted; the years they’d been robbed of. He thought he’d made his peace with all this years ago but now here it was again, grinning and chattering like a monkey on his shoulder. He swiped angrily at his eyes. His hands were shaking.

It was their fault. That couple of idiots down on the beach, with their crazy cheerfulness and their impossible lifestyle and her scheme to travel the world. He’d been planning to take Ellen to Bangkok when she got ill. Then he’d planned to take her when she got well again. They’d taken a brochure with them to the hospital, wild distraction from the horror they knew was coming. When they tell us the bad news, Ellen had said, and he’d interrupted, If, if they tell us, it could still be good, you’ve got to think positive, and she’d shaken her head – I don’t think they tell you to bring someone with you when it’s good news, love. So, when they tell us, the first question we’re going to ask is, ‘How soon will I be well enough to go to Bangkok?’ Okay? There were tears in her eyes as she said it.