Daniel nodded, thoughtfully. ‘Okay. You may have noticed that I’m not the most emotionally intelligent of men. I am woefully bad at recognising and dealing with my own feelings, which means I can hurt the people I care about most. I also still push about a wheelbarrow of guilt and shame, and the need to somehow make things up to people who aren’t even alive any more. I have a frustrating tendency to try to do everything alone, in some warped need to prove myself to no one who even cares. I bury myself in work to avoid facing up to my problems, and I think that you are the most incredible, wonderful woman I have ever met.’ He paused. ‘I love you, flaws and failings and all.’

‘I love you, too.’

Daniel’s eyes sparkled. ‘So, perhaps for now we just need to agree that we forgive each other, and accept each other, as we are?’

‘That sounds like a good plan,’ I replied, my voice so soft I could barely hear it over the buzzing of the motorboats in the distance.

He coughed, scratched the back of his head, and looked up at me from under his brow. ‘I don’t want to suggest starting again, because we aren’t going to gloss over what happened, as if it didn’t matter. But I, for one, would very much like to restart what we had. I’ve had weeks to think about it, though. I understand if you need some time.’

‘I don’t need any time,’ I blurted, in one rush of breath. ‘I forgive you for behaving like a perfectly normal, rational person, and if you can honestly forgive me for all the crap I put you through, and for being a famous bitch, then yes please, I would really like to try again.’

The grin was back. He hadn’t stopped looking at me, and it sent a flutter of joy through my body that only intensified when he slowly reached out and took hold of my hand. Once he’d wrapped his hand around mine, he gently tugged me across the bench, closer and closer until our lips met. It was a challenging kiss, given the smiling and the laughing and the crying, but still managed to be the loveliest kiss ever.

It wasn’t, of course, a simple case of forgive and forget. We talked well into the night, while walking and drinking ice-cold cider and eating fish and chips on the shoreline. We curled up on the sofa in the living room and laid out the whole truth.

We talked about how Hope had grown in the past few weeks. It was her birthday in a few days, and it looked as though she might even be walking by then. Becky had been working flat out running the retreat, absolutely convinced that her business partner simply needed a bit of time.

‘How’s Alice getting on as Operations Manager?’ I asked.

‘Good. The Boatman threw her one hell of a leaving do. They got the Bridge Band to play, and the two pubs ended up having a skinny-dipping relay race across the river and back.’