Emma walked down along the road towards the dunes and let Alfie off the lead, then they followed the sandy, spiky grass track and soon reached the beach. The waves were dramatic and stormy, the power of them immense. Emma kept towards the top of the beach, near the dunes, not wanting Alfie to get too close to the sea that was crashing in, though he seemed to sense the danger and was keeping unusually far away from the shoreline. It was fascinating to watch the frothy, rolling seascape and to hear the boom and crash – like turbulent thunder. They strolled along the sands for about fifteen minutes, getting lashed by the rain, then walked back again through the dunes, the strands of marram grass soaking her trouser legs above her wellies.

Another dog owner was now out with his labrador, a middle-aged man she had seen before on the beach, the only other person she’d seen in the past twenty minutes. They nodded to each other stoically, as dog owners out in the rain do, and she headed back up the hill once more. A couple of seagulls were battling the elements above the harbour, struggling to fly. They gave up and perched on a fishing boat mast. It wasn’t a day for being out long.

It was a relief to turn the key in her back door, walk into the warmth, and peel off her damp outer clothes. She popped a rack near the radiator in the hallway, hung her coat and trousers on there, and then headed upstairs, where she towel-dried Alfie. She didn’t like him shaking off downstairs near the shop; he certainly wouldn’t pass the health and hygiene regulations.

Soon they were both settled by the coal fire. She didn’t plan on going back out at all today. She might phone her mum and dad for a catch-up chat, and then make that call to James with the invite for the weekend – maybe her parents would like to come along too. Oh yes, and she’d read a book, maybe find a good film on Netflix, perfect. She realised how tired she felt. The build-up to Valentine’s Day had been particularly hectic and she was aching. All that stirring, folding, and packing was surprisingly physical, especially on repeat. She’d have arm muscles like Popeye if she wasn’t careful!

Later, Em settled down for her rom-com film with Alfie nestled on his blanket on the sofa next to her, all warm and cosy. It was dark by 4.00 p.m. – well, to be fair, with the inky-coloured storm clouds it had stayed virtually dark all day. It seemed extra quiet in her little front room, and once the film credits rolled, she realised she wanted some company, someone to chat to. She’d ring Bev, see if Pete had come up with any romantic gestures yesterday. Yes, they could have a nice natter.