“Heds, I’m going to go swimming in the sea,” she says. She calls her partner Heds, short for Heddington, their joint surname rather than Lawrence or Larry, his first name. It’s a habit she picked up at the start of their relationship three years ago. She has never been comfortable with Lawrence.

“’Bout time, I’ll come too,” Heds says.

A light dims in the front of her brain as she recalls the paraphernalia he insisted on packing last year. Thermos, ceramic cups, egg sandwiches, chocolate digestives for a sugar burst, blanket, napkins and kitchen roll, jumpers in case it gets cold later, Crocs and boat shoes. After all that, he’d left his iPhone in the car and she had to wait while he traipsed back to get it. She has merely added her costume, recently bought at the pool.

All this life experience has brought her to this. She and Heds are to have their third immersion in the Channel today.

The Channel is better than it sounds. At least it has a proper tidal movement unlike the Med, and the waves, while not at the Cornish standard, are good enough to establish a sailing club and dedicated fraternity of wind-surfers. Locals swim in its green waters in January under huge skies and once you are west of the wind farm the sea goes all the way to the lip of the world. Added to this, the town has a pleasant unfashionable atmosphere. It’s seen both boom and bust. It’s a long way off the tourist map.

In the end, it doesn’t go like last year. At the last minute, Heds’ best friend Hugh and Hugh’s younger sister, Alice, and Alice’s Hungarian Pumi, a dog that looks like a standard white poodle that’s been shrunk in the wash, called Penny, come too.

There’s a bit of a crush in the car, even though it’s a Volvo Estate. Heds puts the beach bags in the back storage section and Penny is squashed at Alice’s feet. Heds drives, she sits in the front like she’s the other adult and for some reason Hugh and his sister burst into song: Culture Club’s “Karma Chameleon,” which she hasn’t heard for two decades.

“You come and go, you come and go, oh-o, oh, oh… Karma Karma Karma Karma Karma Chameleon… You come and go…”

They drive through roads with large suburban houses fenced by high walls and with huge looming trees that hang over the road making a canopy, until at last they are on the sea road, almost ponying it as they go. There are beach huts and then the thin line of a sparkling pearl-coloured sea appears. There is a period when sections of lawn, like small flat golf courses, block out the view, as if the nearer they get obstacles are put in the way to ratchet up the anticipation and tension, but at last they start to see camper vans and cars lining the road, and Heds shouts he’s found them a space.

Soberly they cross the last piece of grass, go down a short slope of shingle and establish themselves on the tartan blanket on the sand. The wind has dropped but oddly it feels cooler too. However, the main disappointment is that the sea is out at a low, low tide. This isn’t swimming weather after all.

“I’m going to splash about in the shallows anyway,” Hugh says, bravely. Alice is already up and out after Penny who is trotting hopefully towards the sea, her padded ears blown back. Alice has gone. Hugh has gone. It’s just her and Heds.

Heds takes out a boiled egg from the tin foil package and with a teaspoon adds Dijon mustard to make a paste on the paper plate.

“We forgot the knives,” he says.

She is in two minds, whether to follow the others or to hang on, perhaps expand this moment together. Heds is looking out to sea. He seems locked onto something. At first she assumes it’s the feeling of wildness, he has a tendency to drift at such times, but when she looks more keenly something else becomes apparent. He’s following Hugh’s sister with a fondness, even a sadness in his eyes.

Dora has never paid much attention to Alice. She has short blond hair, is pretty in an ordinary way, but, she realises, belatedly, guiltily, is someone she has never taken the time to get to know. Out of nowhere the fact of the two of them being left alone feels sinister. The air has flattened out, it’s almost still, just the percussion sounds of a windbreak resisting the odd gust.

“Is there something going on?” she says, gasping for air. “Is there something?”

“Not really.” His voice is hoarse yet steady.

“With Alice?” This with incredulity.

“I never see you,” he says, defensively.

“That’s because we’re both at work all day.”

She is aware they are shouting because a few of the others on the beach have turned to look in an embarrassed, cross way. Heds carries on quietly.

“That’s why they’ve gone off. We agreed I’m going to tell you. I needed to be honest. Anyway it’s over, though she’s a nice girl. I want to be with you.”

The paucity of this apology is biblical.

“We agreed that if you’re ok, I’ll stand up and wave and they’ll come back. If I turn around they’ll go off and catch the train.”

She cannot find the words to deal with the situation. In the end she just stares at him. Heds looks deflated as he shuffles round so his back is to the sea. She watches over his shoulder as the pair walk away. Twice they turn to call back Penny who doesn’t seem to have understood the drill.