He told her they both loved her very much and it was at that point the tears began to trickle out of the corners of her eyes, but she neither made a defence nor uttered a word.

She had not come home for months. Then she had turned up for Christmas with a South African girl. She had been polite and distant and told them that after her finals she was going to work for six months on a National Park project with this girl’s brother, near Johannesburg. She had sent postcards regularly, saying little, and sometimes she had written to Fergus excitedly about her work. That had hurt.

After her degree, Fleur had never been certain what Nikki was doing or where she was. She travelled and seemed to try so many things, but she always moved on. Chasing herself, Fergus said sadly. Never stopping for too long in case she catches herself up. Then she would have had to face Saffie’s death. Accept it.

Eventually she did a navigation course in New Zealand and helped sail ocean-going yachts from boatyard to wealthy owner. She still sent postcards from wherever she was. But postcards can say little, except where you are.

Jack made telephone calls back to the Bay of Islands, rang his marine insurer in Auckland and then his father, who promised to go and view the damage. He could not afford to be anything but pragmatic about this, but it could wipe out his profit for this year if it was contested.

He went out again into the heat and saw Nikki coming towards him slowly and heavily across the beach. Jack, screwing up his eyes, thought he was in danger of forgetting Nikki’s normal quick, fluid movements. Her hat shielded her face but as he reached her she looked as sad as Fleur.

He put his arm around her and she leant against him, and together, without speaking, they went back inside the house. The amah had laid out salad, fruit and bread and a rice and fish dish. As they came in she nodded at them, pointed at the food and smiled, urging them to eat.

Nikki sat at the table under the fan and Jack went to the fridge and got her cold water to drink. He dug himself out a beer. She drank greedily and asked, ‘Where’s Fleur?’

‘She’s resting. We’ll save some lunch for her, shall we? We can put it in the fridge.’

Nikki looked down at the table. She was about to say she was not hungry but decided Jack would make a fuss. He helped her to a small portion of fish and rice and she put some salad onto her plate thinking she could hide her food under it. As if reading her mind, Jack said softly, reaching out to touch her stomach, ‘Nikki, you have a seven-month baby in there.’

She met his eyes, annoyed. Did he ever think of anything else? ‘I’m hardly likely to forget it, am I?’ she snapped. ‘I’m moving about like a beached whale.’