“They called it the Cornish Riviera in the magazines.”

Maisie had imagined sun – hot, baking sun, beating down on white sandy beaches full of smiling people. Like the South of France, only better, because you wouldn’t have those foreigners who didn’t understand English (not even when you repeated yourself, louder). Not this dank, dismal excuse for a holiday resort, where even the ice cream vans sold hot chocolate and the vendors wore jumpers and scarves.

Bill had been very good, making the best of the grey skies and bitter wind; pretending that it was warm enough for shirt sleeves, and only mentioning once or twice a day that it had all been Maisie’s idea. He insisted that they went down to the beach every day, come rain or clouds (but sadly never sun), maintaining that whatever the weather the fresh air would do them good. Maisie, truth to tell, would have preferred to visit the local shops, and go to the bingo of an evening. She always packed a flask of hot coffee to take with them (sweetened liberally), and was thankful for the whim that had made her pack her favourite twin set. The swimming costume had never even made it out of the suitcase.

It had seemed such a good idea when she had read about it. The pictures in Break With Us always showed tanned holiday-makers smiling cheerfully for the camera as they paddled in the warm-looking sea, the sun shining in a hazy blue sky overhead. Maisie had been entranced – all this, and for half the price of Abroad. When she had seen the advert for the holiday cottage in the back of the same magazine it had seemed like providence. She had written off before she even mentioned it to Bill.

Today the beach was deserted. When they first arrived, there had been a family, wrapped up warmly in coats, taking a dog for a walk, but even they had left, driven off by the threatening aspect of the sky. Now, there was just Bill and Maisie, him in his shirt sleeves, her in her twin set, the flask of coffee set neatly between them. A summer holiday to die for, Maisie had intended. Now she thought that if it got much colder, that might turn out to be all too true.