‘Oh, I remember them; they were free spirits, always going off to exotic continents and being very flamboyant and bohemian. I’m sorry to hear of their passing.’

‘Yes. Anyway, when I signed the papers for your place, there it was: your address. I had a compelling urge to come and look you up, Mags. I heard that your husband had been killed, but I didn’t know that you had another.’

‘No. I was living in sin, and that isn’t something you write home to the neighbours about.’

‘No, I suppose not. But the main thing is that you found happiness with Montel – not what convention dictates.’

Mags smiled up at Jerome. He was always a little like his grandparents. He hadn’t wanted to follow a conventional route, either, but he’d given in and done so to please his parents.

‘What happened to your music, Jerome?’

‘Oh, I still play. I’ve brought my violin with me, as it happens. I had visions of wooing you on top of one of these cliffs, by playing my violin and seeing you come from wherever you were and running up the hill into my arms.’

Mags blushed. She’d avoided the ‘why’ he was here, and had only asked the ‘how’. Jerome had always been sweet on her, from when they had been twelve years old and had kissed in the bushes of his garden during one of the many parties his mother used to throw.

They had reached her gate when she asked, ‘Where is your car?’

‘It’s parked along the quayside. I’ve booked into the hotel up on the cliff there.’

‘Oh, the Portpatrick Hotel – it’s lovely. Well, while I freshen up, why don’t you fetch your violin? There’s a wedding reception that would greatly benefit from your playing and, in particular, your lively folk music.’

‘I would love that. I’ll meet you back here.’

Mags watched Jerome go towards his car – a Rolls-Royce.

Well, well. Jerome Cadley! I never expected that, in a million years. But somehow his appearance had pleased Mags and had edged the loneliness away. Ha! Hark at me. I’m being a daft ha’p’orth, as Betsy would say.

Betsy’s expression turned from concern to amazement when Mags walked back into the reception with the handsome Jerome. Tall, with fair hair, he had a sportsman’s physique. His grey eyes twinkled, as if he was always amused, and the indentations on each side of his mouth gave this impression, too.

‘This is Jerome, Betsy. He is an old childhood friend who just happened to be holidaying here, and I bumped into him. I hope you don’t mind me bringing him. He can play for his supper, as he is a violinist.’

‘Eeh, pleased to meet you, Jerome. Of course you’re welcome, lad, and especially if you play for us.’

‘Hello, Betsy, nice to meet you. I guess you’re from my area, Blackburn? And is this your new husband?’

‘Aye, I am; and this is Angus.’

‘Well, you two, as this is a romantic day, I will come clean and tell you that I actually came searching for the love of my life, Mags.’