‘Yes, I used to live in Severn Sands. I grew up here.’ The man still seemed unconvinced. ‘My mother used to work at the holiday park.’

‘What was her name?’

‘Angharad Jones.’

There was a glimmer of recognition. ‘Bonny woman? Used to run the bar?’

‘That’s her, yes.’

‘I knew Angharad. And you’re her lad? William, isn’t it?’

‘Yes.’

‘You used to go out with our Daisy.’

No, no, no, fucking no! Too late Will recognised him: Dave Bradshaw, Daisy’s father; something to do with the town council, a pillar of the community, a point Angharad had stressed over and over when Will gave Daisy the cold shoulder.

It played back to Will, the débâcle of Daisy turning up at the holiday park, tearful because Will wasn’t at the station to meet her as he’d promised he would be and she wanted to make sure that no terrible accident had befallen him. Mr deVillars had been standing helplessly beside Daisy, afraid of touching her, and Guy was watching, smirking like a cat with his green eyes and his milk-coloured hair, face shaded by a straw boater. A couple of hours earlier Will had watched Alice hanging up her swimming things and all he wanted to do now was think about Alice, be with Alice, stand guard over Alice, make sure Guy deVillars didn’t get anywhere near her.

Will had been obliged, that afternoon, to do the decent thing and walk Daisy home, not to this house, but a 1960s semi in a different street. They’d hardly said a word to one another during the walk. Daisy kept sniffing, asking what she’d done wrong and trying to hold Will’s hand but he couldn’t bear her touch so he’d walked most of the distance with his hands tucked under his armpits. When they reached the house and Daisy’s father opened the door, Daisy had pushed past him and run up the stairs and moments later a bedroom door had slammed.

Mrs Bradshaw – the same woman as in the Snowdonia picture, only back then she’d been a heavy blonde, flushed and freckled – had been hovering behind her husband. She asked Will if he’d like to come in for a cup of tea and Will knew that it was expected of him, but all he could think about was Alice, alone, back at the holiday park and so he’d said, ‘No, thank you, I have to go.’ He knew he would be blamed for treating Daisy badly, but he didn’t care about the Bradshaws’ opinion. He literally could not have cared less, so desperate was he to get back to the girl in Caravan 49.