‘How did you get here, it’s all private.’

‘You’ve said that before. I didn’t know; came along the rocks, through a broken fence along there. I’ve walked.’

‘From Villefranche?’

He smiled suddenly and looked very young, twenty; not that. ‘There. Via Shepherd’s Bush.’

‘Shepherd’s Bush? London. You walked?’

‘No. Hitched a lift in a furniture van. Two days it’s taken. Come on, I’ll help you up. You’ll catch your death.’

They started slowly towards the zig-zag track. He stopped.

‘I’ve got some jeans.’

‘It doesn’t matter, it’s the seaside. Besides, it looks more … convincing in those, we are both wet. I’m all right if you’ll just give me your arm: it’s the moral support I’ll need at the top, if you wouldn’t mind.’

‘I don’t mind. Take it easy though; don’t sprint.’

‘Not likely to do that.’

For a few moments they walked in silence.

‘Where are you staying? In the town?’

‘No. Got a sleeping bag. Travelling light. I’ve also got a Camembert, a loaf, a six-pack of beer. I was going to doss down there, on your private land, until tomorrow.’

‘Well, you still can, of course.’

‘Deeply grateful, Mam.’

She ignored the sarcasm, held his arm firmly, clambered on up, her skirt heavy with water, dragging, rasping her shins, the safari jacket clammy and suddenly cold as they moved up into the shade of the pines at the top.

‘There’s the house. You see? It’s not far now. I can manage this part on my own, I mean without your arm. It’s quite level.’ She disengaged herself, smoothed her hair again, patted her skirt. ‘God. I must look frightful.’ She was shivering.

‘Well, if you can cope all right, I’ll just clear off.’

She turned in anxiety towards him. ‘Oh no! No, don’t go, please, you must help me out … about it all. You’re my witness. I just fell.’

He looked at her steadily with unsmiling blue eyes. ‘You just fell. Caught your ankle or something. I pulled you out?’

She nodded slowly. ‘Yes. You did too. Didn’t you?’ She turned and started ahead. ‘But it won’t change anything.’

‘Not my business.’

‘No. Not at all,’ she said.

As they reached the edge of the lawns Archie and Bruna came hurrying down the terrace steps, colliding together at the sight of the two figures coming slowly towards them.

‘Cuckoo!’ His voice was high with anxiety. ‘We’ve been looking for you. What on earth happened?’

Bruna ran towards her, arms outstretched. ‘You are wet! You’ve been in the sea!’

‘I’m so sorry. So sorry. I’m quite all right, Archie dear, quite all right really. I fell, so silly, down at the old picnic place.’

Bruna hurriedly put her arms around her sodden shoulders and started to move her towards the house.