By the time of the Alice summer, Guy was in his second year at university and had been away for most of the year. Will’s mother filled him in on the gossip. Guy had been seeing a French girl, he’d fallen heavily for her and had been spending his free time in the Loire Valley. But the girl had moved on and Guy had come home to lick his wounds. Camille was anxious that her son mix with some young people; she wanted him to have some uncomplicated fun.

It was awful timing that Alice had turned up at the exact same time as Guy was in Severn Sands on his own and in search of distraction. It was unusual for a young woman to come to the park without a partner, family or friends, and Guy had honed in on her straight away. Alice insisted it was Camille who was trying to throw her and Guy into each other’s company, but she was wrong. Guy had designs on Alice from the moment he first set eyes on her.

Will, preternaturally aware of anything to do with Alice and conscious of whenever another man so much as glanced in her direction, had spent hours watching Guy watching Alice. He’d seen how Guy hung around the swimming pool, an area he normally avoided, hoping for the chance to talk to Alice and to charm her. This was more than a flirtation for Guy; more than a way to pass the time. Will had seen him come to Alice’s caravan with gifts: supplies from the Big House’s kitchen garden, a bottle of local cider, a book about the history of the deVillars family, a bottle of sunscreen because he’d noticed her shoulders were burning.

As a teenager, Will believed his dislike of Guy was justified because Guy was inherently a slimeball. Now, with the benefit of maturity, Will acknowledged that he had been jealous too. Guy had inherited his mother’s fair hair, her well-defined eyes and wide smile. He was tall and slim; naturally approachable. The young Will would have described Guy as creepy and effete; the older Will could see that Guy had been good-looking in his own way, gentlemanly and charming. He was good with compliments; he understood how to talk to people as if he was genuinely interested in them; an attentive listener, a good asker of questions. And, of course, Guy had money. He wore his wealth modestly, but it was there, like a subtle brand of aftershave.

Guy plied Alice with attention. Wherever she was in the park, he would materialise beside her, like a shadow. Will warned her that he was on the rebound from the French girl and that he was only using her, but she had laughed at his warnings.

‘Using me for what? We’re not doing anything, Will! We’re only talking.’