‘Supposing while I’m doing my “Bob the Builder” bit tomorrow, you have a chat with Emilia?’ Matt said. ‘Maybe she hasn’t told us everything yet. And if you recall, Will thought that maybe something else was bothering her. See what you can find out.’

‘That’s my plan. Leave it to me, boss. Meanwhile, I’m still intrigued about what’s going on in Holland House. I hate to see our Will looking so edgy. It’s not like him at all.’

Matt stopped eating. ‘To me, he looked just like he did after they lost their little girl, and when Kate was undergoing treatment. I don’t ever want to see them going down that route again.’

They ate on in silence.

* * *

Kate had spent the last part of the afternoon up in her studio but came down for a late supper. When that was finished, they went outside to their vantage point in the garden and sat looking across the saltmarsh.

The sky was still a soft blue, dotted here and there with islands of grey and peach. On the horizon a dark band of night cloud moved slowly across the sky, like a flagship heralding the close of day.

‘This is the best time of all,’ whispered Kate, and started to hum a haunting tune. Will recognised it as one he often heard coming from her studio late at night while she worked.

Will put his arm around her and held her tightly. ‘Rather apt, don’t you think?’

‘Mmm?’

In a soft, surprisingly melodious voice he sang the familiar lyrics. They told of two people, comfortable in each other’s company, looking forward to spending the rest of their lives together, no matter what life threw at them. He stopped, unsure of the next words.

Kate took up the song, until he silenced her with a kiss. ‘No more. I seem to think the next bit is sad. Isn’t it about something parting them? That’s never going to happen.’

‘Never,’ she echoed.

As a moving-in present, Matt and Liz had given them a wonderful old watercolour depicting a cottage and a mill at sunset on the edge of the marsh. The title was Dying Light, and it hung in pride of place above the fireplace in the lounge.

Gazing at the evening sky, Will was reminded of the painting. They touched their glasses together.

‘Will?’ Kate asked. ‘Do you really like it here?’

Her question surprised him. ‘Yes, of course I do. Why? Do I give the impression of not liking it?’

‘No,’ she said softly. ‘It’s just that I love it so much I’d hate for us to move on again.’

‘My darling, after all the hard work we’ve been putting in, they’ll have to carry me out in a wooden box before I uproot from here.’