Freya North 3-Book Collection: Secrets, Chances, Rumours

She feels distraught and she starts sanding again, vigorously. Briefly, there are tears and when she wipes them away, she feels the sensation of salt water and sand mixed together – a combination she hates. It's not gentle on her skin and she is rough on herself.

I'm just his house-sitter, his odd-job girl, with my spattered face and ancient jeans and pasty bum. Who do I think I am that he would want to kiss me?

She has no way of knowing that Joe has been standing still in his bedroom, the feel of her cheek, her chin, her nose, imprinting into his fingertips. He's been standing there like a lemon for ten minutes or so, looking at an open drawer thinking, I don't want to pack, I want to stay.

It was time for another last supper and Joe had done the honours. It was impossible for roast chicken, potatoes, peas, carrots, broccoli and onion gravy not to make life seem OK again.

‘What time are you leaving tomorrow?’

‘After breakfast.’

‘What time will you arrive?’

‘Marseilles after lunch, on site near Roussillon a couple of hours later.’

‘How long?’

‘A week. Perhaps two.’

Tess played her fork over a pea before squeezing it down onto it, hard. ‘It'll be May by then.’

‘Maybe sooner,’ Joe said.

‘Keep in touch?’

A pause. He glanced at her. She was squashing peas again.

‘OK,’ he said.

‘OK then.’

‘And don't worry about fifty pences in the telephone jar – if you need to speak to me, just phone.’ And he gamely stabbed his last floret of broccoli. ‘Is that Emmeline?’

Tess was already standing. ‘She never usually wakes at this time.’

‘Go and check – I'll see to the dishes.’

‘But you cooked – I should clear up. That's how it's been.’

‘It's fine, Tess. Go.’

As Joe cleared away the dinner, he listened. The child was audibly grouchy, the soft tones of a mother's singing and cooing having little effect.

Half an hour it lasted before he heard Tess descending the stairs. Coffee, he thought, or tea. Where are the biscuits? Let's stay as we were, here in the kitchen. But when the kitchen door opened, Tess had a hot and bothered Emmeline on her hip.

‘Is she OK?’

‘I think so,’ Tess said. ‘She's not hot – I think she's just out of sorts.’

‘Bottle?’

‘Please – there's one in the fridge.’

Joe boiled a kettle and sat the bottle in a bowl of hot water. They both thought quietly how he'd become a bit of a dab hand.

‘Thanks,’ Tess said, while Em grabbed it, gave a few fractious gulps before dropping it. Tess tisked. Joe said, don't worry. Em started grizzling again. Wolf woke up and whined. Joe looked at them.

‘I think I might just have a magic cure,’ he said. ‘It works for me when I'm fractious. Come on. Grab coats.’

‘Where are we going?’

‘Wait and see.’

‘My grandmother used to say that. She used to say, “Wait and see with salt on.” I think it was an extreme version of yours.’

‘Save the family anecdotes, Tess – and get your coat, woman.’

‘What's the rush?’

‘Where are your car keys?’

‘But I have hardly any petrol.’

‘Keys, Tess – now!’

‘But –’

‘We're taking my car – I just need your child seat. Give me the bloody keys!’

He wasn't being rude; well, he was, but Tess didn't need to jump to the defensive because Joe was grinning his exasperation at her. There wasn't any genuine urgency, but there was a sense of excitement. Tess had no idea where they were going or what the big secret was. Five minutes into the journey Emmeline was sound asleep, rendering the excursion obsolete. But neither Tess nor Joe was going to say, well, we might as well turn back then.

They drove through Redcar and he told her how the steel industry once had its zenith here; Europe's largest single-blast furnace. He pointed out the remaining vast rolling sheds, super-stretched structures, though many were now empty.

‘We used to come at night when we were kids – the sparks and the heat coming from those sheds. Molten steel, pet – as exciting as any fireworks display.’

Another industry in decline, he said solemnly. But then brightened and told her that the beach here had masqueraded as Dunkirk for a recent Hollywood blockbuster much to the amusement of the locals.

‘Atonement!’ Tess had seen it. Joe too.

Then she said, tell me where we're going!

But he just said, patience, woman.

She looked at the road signs for clues.

Middlesbrough?

She had assumed she could ably stay in Saltburn without ever having recourse to visit the city whose slightly grimy, down-at-heel reputation rather preceded it. They were driving through a strange industrial hinterland of yards and depots and storage tanks. Chemicals, Joe explained. Charming, Tess thought. It was all rather dark and desolate.