‘I do know, Bear.’ Her eyes stayed on him. ’And I love you. You know that too, don’t you?’

Will nodded. Despite everything, he had never doubted it. He held out his arms to her.

* * *

The following morning, Will rose at dawn and slid out of bed, leaving Kate asleep. Donning a sweatshirt and jeans, he went downstairs and pulled on his walking boots. Out in the garden the air carried the fresh chill that heralds an approaching change in the seasons.

It was time he discovered for himself just what it was that continued to draw his lovely Kate out on to that desolate marsh.

The ground leading up to the sea bank was soft underfoot. It had rained the night before, and the slender stems of the grass formed miniature arches to which clung countless droplets that shone like crystals. Mist hugged the trees, whose black trunks disappeared into an enveloping grey. Soon the trees gave way to scrubby, deformed shrubs, to be succeeded by coarse tussocks of reedy grass and sea lavender.

Aware of the danger of the rising tide, which swept in fast over this part of the marsh, Will kept to the path. Eventually, he sat on an old, broken gate and stared out over the flat, tide-washed landscape. It was a strange place, unlike any other he had seen. It seemed ancient, aeons old. Primeval.

He shook himself. This fanciful mood wasn’t like him. He tried to imagine what it would be like to be artistic and could see how this wild stretch of coastline might cast a spell over a creative mind. What did Kate see? The black water in the lagoons, slithery beings that moved through the reed beds, the brooding atmosphere of the darksome marsh. But there were breathtaking cloud formations in the endless sky, tiny snow-white fen violets and the song of the skylark that hovered far above.

Not so long ago, she had thrived on such small details, imbibed them and then sprinkled their beauty into her paintings. Fairy dust.

Will slid down off the decrepit old gate and slowly made his way home. So now he understood. He had felt what she must feel on her endless wanderings across the marsh. They had made a terrible mistake in moving to Whisper Fen.

He kicked absentmindedly at a dandelion head. He would be crossing the Atlantic, far away from Kate. Part of him was relieved. Perhaps, at some distance from her, he would be able to see their problems from a new perspective. Mostly, however, he was full of trepidation.

His gaze moved to Holland House, standing alone on the edge of the marsh. From this far away, the big old house looked like a dream come true. Only the foundations were unstable, and nightmare creatures resided in the studio.