The following morning he was lying in bed, listening to the rain pounding on the roof. He replayed the events of the previous evening over and over again in his mind. He had not expected to be so affected by her, and wondered if she felt the same. Where was she now? What would she do today? Not go out painting, that was for sure – not in this weather. They had not made any arrangement to meet again. It was as if they both needed breathing space. There seemed to be fear on both their parts. He needed to take stock of his emotions and understand whether it had been simply an evening of easy passion. And what of Alex? She had seemed willing at first, but had pulled away. Too much too soon? Or had she not wanted to get involved? He slid out from under the duvet and padded across to the window. A stiff breeze was blowing the rain in diagonal sheets across the steel-grey sea and into the cliff face. Battalions of droplets rattled against the window of the cottage and trickled down the panes.
