He smiled. ‘You know where to find me if you need me.’ He stopped at the kitchen door. ‘George was almost asleep before he lay down.’

She walked towards him. ‘Although he knows – well, we all know – what is coming, it knocks you off your feet. Thanks for all the help.’ She stood on tiptoes, balanced herself with a hand on his chest. His heart beat beneath her fingers. She kissed his cheek.

He put his fingers on hers for a moment. ‘No problem.’ He dropped his hand and stepped away, closing the door behind him. She walked out of the open French windows in the drawing room. The sound of the sea and the cry of an owl filled the air. It was mournful, but Gran had loved listening to them and Lottie wondered if that was her way of saying she was on her way.

No, that was too fanciful for Gran. Lottie laughed and cut across the dew-covered grass and onto the gravel path. Her mother must be in one of two places. Lottie heard the voices of some teenagers coming from the beach, so she would try the watchtower first.

The darkness grew the further up the long path she went, and she switched on the torch. The beam of light picked out the way and she recalled taking this path so often with Gran. On one particular evening stroll Lottie had asked her about Allan. Lottie must have seen his grave that day. Gran had spoken about him with such love. ‘He made me laugh and he could win anyone over to his point of view. Your mother adored him and so did I.’

‘Is that why you didn’t remarry for so long? You loved him too much?’

She’d taken Lottie’s hand in hers. ‘Yes. Love that big is hard to match.’

‘But you love Gramps?’

‘I do.’ She smiled.

‘He loves you.’ Lottie giggled. ‘He tells you with flowers all the time.’

‘That he does.’

‘It’s like a secret code.’ She skipped a few steps ahead and turned to Gran

‘Indeed.’ She laughed.

‘Do you think I’ll ever find someone who loves me like Gramps loves you?’ Lottie asked.

Gran bent down so she could look her in the eyes. ‘I know you will because you have a huge heart.’

‘But why doesn’t Mum have someone loving her, aside from me and you?’

‘Ah, I think . . . I think she might be afraid of love, or maybe she is complete without another.’

‘Oh.’