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‘I’m with you on that,’ I said. ‘Remember my medical secretary gig?’

‘Ah, yes,’ he said. ‘At least it got your typing speed up. I’ve heard you tapping away and I reckon you can probably type twice as quickly as I can.’

‘Silver linings,’ I said, surprised to hear Theo was worried about money, too.

I supposed it made sense – all the authors I knew were. Income was so sporadic and you could never count on anything. Occasionally something really good happened, like an unexpected foreign rights deal, and it would give your bank balance a temporary boost, but nothing could ever be plannedfor. I thought that sometimes I just needed to manage my money better. Or, more accurately, not use it to bail other people out when not only did it put me in a difficult position financially, but potentially it stopped them finally learning to work things out for themselves. I was thinking of Kate and Zach in particular, my not-so-little siblings, who sometimes I treated like kids who needed me, who relied on me to be a constant, a parent. But they were both nearly thirty now, and I was beginning to wonder whether it was me who had inadvertently held them back. Whether their general life skills might be less underdeveloped now if I hadn’t always stepped in and made it all better for them.

‘So we both need this to work, am I right?’ said Theo. ‘We need this book to get us a big advance and more than that, we need it to sell. We need supermarkets, we need airports. We need it all. Don’t we?’

I nodded. ‘Yes, exactly that.’

Theo stopped to take a photo of a huge yacht coming into the harbour.

‘Want me to take one of you?’ I asked, thinking that I really ought to post something on Instagram myself. After all, my day-to-day was currently about a hundred times more interesting to look at than it usually was.

‘Believe it or not, I don’t actually like having my photo taken,’ he said, giving me a wry smile.

‘Presumably you’re saying believe it or not because you’re phenomenally photogenic and look good in every single shot I’ve ever seen of you?’ I said, teasing him.

‘That’s . . . not what I meant,’ he said, looking embarrassed. ‘It’s just that I have to post the odd shot of myself on socials because that’s what people expect. But it’s a part of the job I hate.’

‘Although more fun than selling kitchens, presumably.’

‘Well, quite. I remember feeling like working in the kitchen showroom defined me. I struggled to socialise at one point because my friends all had these careers they enjoyed and were doing well at and if we talked about me at all, even if they asked how my writing was going, I ended up feeling like a massive failure. I was quite introverted at one point, started turning invitations down, letting friendships slide, all that.’

I hid my surprise. To me he’d always seemed so popular and charismatic, and not like someone who cared what other people thought of him or his career choices.

‘I’m sure they had no idea you felt that way,’ I said.

He shrugged, taking another photo of the peninsula of Antibes up ahead.

‘I don’t think my friends thought badly of me, that’s true, but it played into the narrative I told you about,’ said Theo. ‘The one started by my parents and made worse by my English teacher: that I wasn’t good enough to make a success of being a writer. Now that I’ve done it, have had a taste of it, if you like, I never want to go back. Ever. It would be like they’d won.’

I stopped to look out towards the sand where a couple were holding hands, about to go in for a swim. Theo pointed at them.

‘They’re like our protagonists in an alternative universe where they don’t hate each other and have affairs with each other’s sisters,’ he laughed.

‘We’ve really got something here, haven’t we, with this book?’ I said.

We’d even come up with the entire plot for the second half now. Ethan’s body would finally be found in a nearby reservoir. The police would arrest Caroline on suspicion of murder but would be forced to release her due to lack ofevidence. And in a final showdown, Caroline’s evil twin sister would try to kill her in order to keep her quiet, falling off a cliff and dying herself in the process.

‘Which is what I wanted to talk to you about,’ he said.

The lightness of a few moments ago was gone, blown out to sea on the breeze.

I nodded. ‘Go on.’

He rubbed at his jaw. ‘I’ve been thinking, and I reckon we should probably keep things strictly professional from here on in.’

My stomach dropped, I wasn’t sure why. It felt like a rejection, I supposed, but when I took a few seconds to rationalise it, there was nothing to reject. I was in total agreement with him, and also felt like it was the most sensible way forward. So why did I feel actual, physical pain inside me, like I’d been repeatedly kicked in the guts?

‘It’s because of yesterday, isn’t it?’ I said.

He turned to face me.

‘Scarlett, it’s not just that. Please don’t think you did anything wrong, because that’s absolutely not where I’m coming from. At least we got to the bottom of what happened six years ago and we can stop blaming each other and chalk it up to bad timing and miscommunication.’

I nodded, willing myself not to look upset. There was no need. He was right, this was all for the best.