Slipping my arm through Tom’s, I ache for the innocence of earlier days when all I wanted was to marry him and live in Cornwall, sailing, reading, and ignoring the world. A bitter laugh escapes me. Today of all days, innocence is a thing of the past and my heart aches.

‘Are you OK?’ He stares at me as he unbolts the gate.

‘Yes.’ I force a bright smile.

‘Liar.’

‘Never.’

He strokes my cheek, saying, ‘I’m sorry.’

‘For what?’

‘Bringing you into this game.’

I take a deep breath. ‘I went in with my eyes open.’

‘Hmm.’ He drops his hand. ‘You did it because you were in love with me.’

I gasp.

‘Of course I knew.’ He turns to me.

‘But . . .’

‘Joan, if I could have loved anyone it would have been you.’

‘But . . .’

‘No buts. What is, is.’ He strides down the last few steps onto the sand. The tide covers most of it and in the distance an over-full tender is making its way to the beach.

Clenching my fists, I catch up to him again. He is focused on the boat. ‘What do you know about George?’

‘Harvard. Likes his Scotch with three ice cubes and has a real taste for Cuban cigars. A straight-shooting American. No dark underside, or one that’s so well hidden he’s forgotten it.’

‘That tells me nothing.’ My nails dig into my palms.

‘Which tells you a great deal.’

I uncurl my hands. No information. No one to trust. Just me. Maybe my mother’s life wasn’t as dull as I thought. All I know, as I look at Allan pressed up against the American in the dinghy, is that I want to keep my husband and above all, to keep my daughter safe. Nothing else matters. Not Tom, not George and not Victor.

I shake my head. I am a cog in the wheel and not important at all. I must remember that. Diana scrambles over the side of the tender and runs to me, covering me in kisses. ‘Mummy I missed you.’ I search her little face, all serious. The sail has not gone well from her point of view. Over her head I watch the American woman place a possessive hand on Allan’s arm. He’s only known them a week, but that is the familiar action of an old friend or a lover. Tom’s glance meets mine.

‘You missed a brilliant day.’ Allan walks up to me and kisses me on the mouth. My eyes narrow as he scoops up Diana. ‘Wasn’t it wonderful, Diana?’

She nods but I know my daughter only too well.

‘How’s the head, old man?’ Allan turns his attention to Tom. ‘Or was it an excuse to lose yourself in a book?’

‘After all the travel of late, I spent the day resting.’

Allan cast him a look. ‘Good, then you’ll be on form for a long night of celebration.’