Loretta laughed out loud. ‘Good God, no! Of course not! They’re yours, of course they are yours! They were never mine. None of it is mine. Not a penny. Guthrie’s parents made sure of that. Everything passed from Guthrie to Digby. I don’t own a thing. Which is odd, really, as even my parents owned their caravan and the one hundred and fifty prime acres it sat on.’ She winked at Merrin and lifted the mug to her lips. ‘Cheers!’

She felt a loosening in her shoulders and neck and raised her own mug. ‘Cheers, Loretta.’

The woman stood and wiped her mouth, and Merrin followed, ready to see her out. It was a surprise when she walked forward and held her in a tight hug, talking over her shoulder.

‘I meant what I said that day: let yourself live, Merrin. Grab life and run with it because it’s short.’

Having stood on the slipway and watched Ma Mortimer make her way up Fore Street, Merrin decided to sit on the steps that led down to the beach and try to make sense of the evening they had shared. As the cool night air bit, she looked towards the cottages, where lamplight glowed from the windows and her beloved family awaited her return. Sitting still, she looked out over the water.

‘Oh, Gran, how I would love to chat to you right now . . .’

Turning her eyes towards movement, she saw the silhouette of a figure walking briskly up from the shoreline, as if newly sprung from the sea itself. A silhouette she didn’t recognise, but a man, certainly. Tall and broad, he appeared to be heading straight towards her, his stride purposeful. Her mouth went a little dry with nerves. It was one thing to be alone out here in the environment she knew back to front, but with a stranger? She looked back at the lights along the quayside and took comfort from them, halfway between home and the pub, where family and friends were within shouting distance.

‘Oh! Hi!’ His voice was friendly and his manner confident as he lifted his hand in a wave and came closer.

As he approached she recognised the shape of him as someone she had seen jogging once or twice at a distance or had opened the door of Everit’s for to let him pass. ‘I thought I saw someone coming down to the beach; made me quite self-conscious, and then you disappeared. Didn’t realise you’d taken a pew there in the shadows.’ He wasn’t from around here, no Cornish accent.

‘Ha! I don’t take a pew often,’ she retorted.

‘What?’

‘Church, I . . . I don’t often go to church.’ She didn’t know why she shared this.

‘Ah, just the usual then? Weddings and funerals?’

‘You don’t know how accurate that is!’ She laughed.