‘Oh, I’d like to see the sea. I’d love to just walk on the beach for a bit, breathe the fresh air. Blackburn is well named, I reckon. I feel as though I have smuts of soot on my face and I didn’t even get out of the car.’

‘Well, you haven’t,’ said James. ‘Your face looks lovely.’

‘Thank you,’ said Gina, smiling. It was nice to be in an exciting place, on the arm of a handsome man who paid compliments.

They walked onto the Prom, then along, gazing at the sea, which looked cold and grey, and then went down some steps onto the sand. There was hardly anyone there, just a few people packing up for the day and a dog walker or two. A chill wind blew off the sea. James and Gina walked on the sand, their feet sinking in. Gina pulled her cardigan tightly around her and stopped to admire the view and breathe deeply.

‘It smells different here,’ she said.

‘Certainly smells different from Blackburn.’

She laughed. ‘I meant from Little Grindle. The air has a different feel to it somehow … fresher, mebbe.’

‘Now, Little Grindle hasn’t a lot to offer, for all it’s my parents’ home, but it does have a lot of fresh air,’ James said.

‘You’re right there. And sheep. And fields. But it doesn’t have owt else really. There aren’t many folk there,’ Gina remarked.

‘Do you mind that? Would you prefer to be where there are crowds?’

Gina thought about what she really wanted. ‘I reckon once you’ve seen all of Little Grindle, and know all the folk there, then you’ve got to the bottom of it. It’s never changed and I reckon it never will. And I’m stuck there, never changing with it, whether I want to or not.’

‘And do I deduce that you would like a change?’

‘Oh, yes.’ She almost surprised herself at the wholeheartedness in those two words. ‘More than anything I’d like to see summat of life.’

James didn’t reply. Instead he was staring out towards the grey horizon, a thoughtful look on his face.

‘Mm, I can understand that,’ he said after a while. ‘I’m beginning to think, Gina, that you and I have a lot in common.’

‘Do we?’

‘Oh, yes. Trust me, I know.’

‘Why do you think that?’

‘I shall tell you later … probably. In the meantime, shall we go and find somewhere to eat? What would you like?’

‘Doesn’t everyone eat fish and chips when they go to the seaside?’ asked Gina.

‘Only if they’re having them outdoors,’ laughed James. ‘It’s the rule with fish and chips: on the seafront, out of a newspaper, and usually with a Force Eight gale blowing.’

‘So shall we …?’

‘The wind’s not strong enough. Let’s go and find somewhere we can sit down in the warm.’