I notice that the dress hangs loose on me now; looks more like a sheath than the curve-clinger it was a few months ago; but it still works. I touch up my make-up, putting on blusher to mask my paleness, and lipstick too, which I haven’t done in a while. It feels strange to wear heels inside the cottage, but it looks weird to be so dressed up and not wear shoes, so I slip them on before heading carefully downstairs, clutching the banister as I go. I’m not used to wearing heels and I feel a little light-headed.

Liam’s sitting on the sofa lacing up his boots, but he pauses when he sees me, and his mouth falls open. ‘You look beautiful,’ he says, eyes widening.

‘He adores you,’ my mum had told me, noticing the way he was looking at me the first time I brought him home.

I walk over to him and he pulls me into his lap. He’s put on a clean blue shirt and his hair still looks windswept from our walk earlier.

‘I thought maybe we could have a little bonfire on the beach after dinner,’ he says. ‘I was just going to get it ready.’

‘Oh, yes,’ I say eagerly. I’ve always loved a bonfire; the smell of woodsmoke and the crackling flames always remind me of being a kid and burning leaves with my grandad on his allotment. ‘I’ll make dinner now then,’ I add.

Liam heads outside and I go into the kitchen, already knowing exactly how I’m going to cook the salmon and calculating in my head when I should put the crumble that I made earlier into the oven.

By the time I’m sliding the salmon in its foil wrapper under the grill, Liam is back from setting up the bonfire. He washes his hands and opens the wine, pouring a glass for himself which he chinks against my glass of water. ‘To us,’ he says.

‘To us,’ I answer.

After dinner we head out to the beach where Liam has built the bonfire. He has dragged out two chairs to sit beside it, and brought out a blanket, which he drapes around my shoulders. I tilt my head back and look up at the sky. ‘I don’t think I’ve ever seen so many stars,’ I say.

‘That’s the big dipper,’ Liam points out.

‘Ursa Major,’ I say.

Liam looks at me, surprised that I know the actual Latin name for the constellation.

‘My grandad taught me,’ I tell him with a small shrug, glancing up at the sky. ‘It never sets below the horizon in the northern hemisphere. Slaves used it to navigate north, on their way to freedom.’

‘What other stars do you know?’ Liam asks. ‘What’s that one, over there?’ He points to a bright star at the edge of Ursa Major.