Veronica musses his hair. ‘Forget about the old witch and come into the drawing room.’ She has always called the living room the drawing room, without ever knowing how much he hates the affectation. He’s not a fan of ‘old witch’ either, not when it comes from Veronica. A man’s wife should not belittle his mother. It’s one of the unspoken rules. But he’s not going to say anything because he never says anything because she’s the Honourable Veronica Fanshawe-Drew and he’s a belly-crawling coward. God, I hate myself, he thinks, following his wife into the living room, where a bottle of vintage Krug sits in an ice bucket.

‘Pop the cork, darling. I suppose it’s a bit naughty of me to have any, now we’re expecting. Still, a glass won’t hurt, will it?’

As he moves to the table, he watches Veronica’s expression change from glee to concern.

‘Christopher, you’re shaking! Are you quite all right?’

Chapter 36

Honor

‘Permission to board!’

Honor peers through the quayside window of the Halcyon Days and sees Alex clutching a large paper bag. She presses ‘send’ on the text to Nevis then looks up and, smiling, waves him in, taking a quick glance at herself in the kettle and flipping back a strand of hair as she moves through the boat to the hatch.

‘I bought croissants. They’re still warm.’ He holds out the bag, smiling. She takes it, their fingers momentarily touching, and, feeling a blush rising to her face, turns away, hoping he cannot see it.

‘How lovely! Take a seat and I’ll make us some coffee.’

She fills the kettle and gets the coffee from the fridge, pulls a couple of plates from the rack, puts them on the table and notices his clothes: a smart Aran sweater, pair of cords and leather walking boots. Up till now he has always been in his boatman’s uniform of denim overalls.

‘You off somewhere?’

‘Well yes, actually. I thought you might like to come?’

‘Oh?’ she says. Is he proposing they go on a date?

‘After we talked about all that newspaper stuff, I gave Anne a call, realised it was ages since we’d seen one another. She invited me – us – for lunch. You fancy it? She’s in one of the villages near Bath. I thought it might be a nice drive.’

‘There’s a lot to do here,’ she says, getting up to make the coffee. While filling the cafetière she pulls her phone across the counter, presses to see if her text has been answered and, in a moment of preoccupation, pours boiling water over her finger.

At her cry Alex jumps up and rushes over. ‘What happened?’

‘I was being stupid.’ She holds out the reddened digit. He takes her wrist between two fingers and draws her gently to the sink. Cool water flows over the reddened skin.