Gramps always used to sing the song, ‘A Kiss to Build a Dream On’, copying Louis Armstrong’s style. The summer of 2007, when she was seventeen, she’d had the song on repeat in her head every time she saw Alex. He never even acknowledged her existence. She was too young and therefore beneath his notice.

Everything changed the following summer. She’d turned eighteen, A-levels were behind her and she was waiting for her results. The summer had begun with a two-week break with her grandparents, and that kiss on this beach had changed everything. She knew then that she wasn’t going to take the internship her mother had planned, she was going to spend the summer in Cornwall with Alex. A summer to pull pints and have a boyfriend who was sexy as hell. He was the only one she had ever wanted, and she’d thrown him away.

Pulling her shoulders back, she set off slowly until she reached the steps down to the beach. Even now the longing she’d felt as a teenager, as she’d watched him as he mowed the lawn and trimmed the hedges, still stirred her. It shouldn’t. She’d moved on long ago.

During those sun-drenched days, she would help Gran in the house then lie on the lawn in her bikini, pretending to read while watching him. He knew, of course he did. Then finally one night after a few pints, he’d walked her home and they had continued on past the gate and onto the beach. The moon had been full, and she’d been brave. After they had both skimmed stones for a bit, they stopped to watch a tanker in the distance. He was so close to her, she could smell the freshness of his aftershave. She’d leaned a bit closer and he turned his head towards her. Before she could stop herself, she tiptoed up and kissed him. In the light of the moon, she could see the smile hovering on his lips.

‘That took you long enough,’ he said, before he kissed her back.

Lottie laughed as she paused on the last step before she reached the beach now. Young and foolish. At least now she could remember the fun parts. For a while she had thought the only thing she would remember was the summer’s end.

‘Lottie?’

She stopped. ‘Alex?’

‘Yes.’ He held a fishing rod and a bucket.

‘Any luck?’

He nodded. ‘What on earth are you doing?’

‘Good question.’

‘Travelling down memory lane?’

She cleared her throat. ‘Might have been . . .’

Treading with care, she continued down onto the sand.

‘You know the tide is on its way in?’ He placed the fishing gear down and walked towards her as she strolled further north on the beach.

She didn’t. ‘Doesn’t matter.’

The sound of the waves became louder and she stopped. Sensing, rather than seeing, if she went much farther, she would have wet feet.

She turned, and he was right behind her.

‘I appreciated the apology.’