Conor, his eyes shielded by his hand, looked out across the bay, scanning as if he were looking for something. They paddled on and Hannah found her rhythm. She’d always loved being out on the water but this was something else, the rolling motion of the sea more hypnotic and beguiling with the ebb and flow of the waves around her. There was an immense feeling of space, unlike being enclosed by the banks of the river, but thankfully she was reassured by the fact that they were in a sheltered bay. The truth was that she preferred her adventure on the safer side.

A tiny bump, almost a nudge, startled her, making her grip her paddle tighter and pay a little more attention to the water instead of the scenery.

‘Conor,’ she called over, anxiously studying the water below the surface. ‘Are there any rocks I should be aware of?’

‘No.’ He paused and turned to call over his shoulder. ‘This is quite deep water.’

That didn’t make her feel better.

‘Right.’ Maybe she’d imagined it and it was just a crosscurrent. Being in the sea was very different from a river or a canal. Actually, being on a canal in comparison was rather dull. To her surprise she was enjoying the exhilaration of the breeze dancing across her face, the dip and pull of the water, and the slide of the kayak through the waves. Her body felt more in tune with the natural motion, riding the swell, anticipating the cyclical up and down.

A seabird dived a few feet away, emerging with an empty beak and screeching before it turned sharply and took flight. She looked down into the water, wondering what sort of fish they had here, and caught sight of a flash of grey. A seal? She sat for a moment just watching and when she looked up, she realised a distance of about two hundred metres had opened up between her and Conor. She squinted at him out of the corner of her eye, and spotted what looked like a dorsal fin, slowly gliding along parallel to her just a few metres away. As her head whipped round, the shape disappeared. She rested the paddle in front of her and clutched a hand to her rapidly rising chest. They didn’t have sharks in Ireland, did they? She must have imagined it. Just the criss-cross of the waves and the current. A bit like those old black-and-white shadowy pictures of the Loch Ness monster.