‘God, that’s sad, why don’t you?’ He walked forward and she looked up at him, no longer worried about how the evening would begin and whether they might struggle to find common ground, as just like that and with no more than a few shared words, they had started. And it felt easy.

‘I don’t know.’ She did know, of course, but figured it was better not to launch into the most depressing of stories before they had even left the hotel grounds. ‘I guess I used to be the kind of person who thought that anything was possible and then one summer I realised that some things are not possible, and that sometimes life doesn’t turn out how you think it will and there’s not a lot you can do about it.’

‘You sound wise, like Yoda.’

Again she felt her face break into a smile. ‘Thank you. I think.’

The White Swan was their pub of choice and, in a cosy nook, Merrin drank three large glasses of wine, finding it easier to relax with each sip that passed her lips.

‘It’s nice, isn’t it?’ She beamed.

‘What is?’ He seemed to be concentrating and she knew then that her words might be a tad slurred.

‘Being out!’ She laughed, throwing her arms wide. ‘Being out of our rooms and away from work!’ The sensation reminded her of carefree nights on the beach with Bella, Ruby and Jarvis, and of running down the slipway with her shoes in her hands as the sun came up . . . glorious freedom in the most beautiful setting. How she missed it, but being out with Miguel in a pub felt like a small step on the road back to normality. Actually, no, it felt like a big step, and with it came a sense of pride that she had taken the step at all.

‘You make it sound like a prison.’

‘A prison I choose and where I read William Spakespeare! That’s close enough!’ She giggled. ‘Me! Reading William Shh . . . akespeare. I used to think I couldn’t do that; I used to think I couldn’t do lots of things, but I can, Miguel. I can.’

‘I think you can do anything you put your mind to. I also think we’d better get you home.’ Miguel downed the remainder of his pint and helped her from her chair.

‘Sorry, I’m a little out of practice; feel a bit tipsy.’ She smiled and followed him out into the cooler night air, which hit her face and made her realise just how tipsy she was. ‘You’re my first friend here, Miguel.’

‘I’m honoured.’ He gave a mock bow. ‘People talk about you a little bit; they wonder why you keep yourself to yourself so much. I mean, you are young, how old are you, thirty-four? Forty?’ He laughed and she slapped his arm.