Not that the detail mattered; none of it did. Her only preoccupation was sorting things out with the man she loved and figuring out what forces had been at play to bring them to this point. There was one thing of which she was certain: what they shared was recoverable, it had to be; it was her whole future. The strength of their love was enough to overcome just about anything. The way she felt at the sight of him enough to confirm this.

Ridiculously, she felt shy about calling out his name, this man with whom she had shared her body, her love and her dreams for her future. The man with whom she had run through a list of possible baby names and then giggled with delight at the absurdity that it was even under contemplation.

‘Horatio? You have got to be kidding me!’ she had howled.

Digby Mortimer, who she loved with a strength that made the consideration of a life without him a painful thing. Her stomach bunched and the breath caught in her throat. She did her best to swallow the sickness that again threatened.

As she drew closer he seemed to sense her presence and turned his head. His expression was hard to fathom: nervous, certainly; upset, possibly. Either way, he carried the air of a stranger and this fact alone was enough to cleave her heart in two. His face didn’t break into a smile at the sight of her and his eyes didn’t glaze with longing. The biggest shock was how quickly this change had occurred.

Instead of reaching out for him – Merrin felt, even in such a short amount of time, as if she had lost that privilege – she sat down next to him awkwardly, wearing a cloak of embarrassment, buttoned with grief, and folded her hands in her lap. Close enough that he could reach out and touch her if he so desired, but not so close that they were automatically touching, which had always been their default position, arm to arm, thigh to thigh, hand in hand, her head resting on his shoulder, her foot on his leg, her mouth seeking his. She missed him already, missed what had slipped through their fingers.

It was easier to talk to him if she kept her eyes trained over the water, concentrating on the breaking waves, the shifting clouds, the boats bobbing on the horizon – anything other than his face and the suggestion of betrayal that glinted in his eyes. Her loss was complete, her pain physical and her spirits sank lower than she knew was possible. There was one fleeting second when she peered at the waves cavorting over the jagged rocks and recognised the unpalatable, brief thought that to jump and land among them might bring an end to this misery.

‘I don’t know what to say to you.’ Her words coasted out on a burble of nervous laughter.