He’s by the front door, ready to go, but she knows it will take him a few more seconds to switch on all the alarms. The house is like Fort Knox. She leans in closer to the mirror in their bedroom, searching for a clue in her face, a telltale sign that the thirty-three-year-old woman smiling back at her is not quite as blissed up as she seems. Nothing. Her eyes are dancing, happiness radiating from every pore of her sun-kissed skin.

‘Kate?’ Rob calls out again, above a cacophony of beeping alarms.

‘Coming,’ she says, skipping down the stairs to join him in the vast hall. Stretch, the smooth-haired dachshund puppy he’s bought her, trots in from the kitchen.

‘See you later, little legs,’ she says, scooping Stretch up to kiss him goodbye. He normally comes everywhere with her, but in another break with routine, Rob has asked that this morning he stay behind. ‘Sure he won’t set off the alarms? He’s not very good at staying on his bed.’

‘The system’s smarter than that,’ Rob says. ‘Knows a naughty dog when it sees one.’

An hour later, they are walking arm in arm across a small beach that can only be reached by descending a treacherous cliff path. Behind it, granite rocks rise up like a giant stage curtain. The tide is turning, leaving a pool of deep turquoise water trapped by a bar of rippled sand that bisects the mouth of the cove. On either flank, the steep rocks flatten out as they extend into the sea. They’ve got the beach to themselves and no one passed them on the coast path.

‘Why haven’t you brought me here before?’ she asks, stunned by the beautiful location.

‘I didn’t think you were strong enough – to climb down,’ he says, walking on ahead.

They’ve been together five months now and it’s true that she hasn’t been in a good place, recovering from a car accident that nearly killed her. But she’s feeling better by the day, physically and mentally.

Rob stops to pick up something from the tideline. It’s a small piece of glass, heart-shaped and smoothed by the ocean.

‘I think this may be yours,’ he says, watching as she takes it in her hands. His faint Southern Irish lilt is more inflected when he talks quietly, almost musical.

Hearts don’t usually do it for Kate, but for some reason this piece of sea glass, with its rough-hewn beauty, melts hers. Maybe it’s because Rob’s not a natural romantic, still learning.

‘It’s gorgeous,’ she says, turning to kiss him. She closes her eyes, feeling the sun on her eyelids. They both know what’s coming next. They can never help themselves. Or she can’t, at least. Without saying anything, they strip off all their clothes and race down the beach, Kate slightly ahead of Rob.