The mist rolled in off the sea. Early morning, it’d burn off soon. Gulls wheeled and called overhead. The tide pulled back, nice and slow.

—It’s right nice down here, Aoife said.

—Aye, it is in’t it? John smiled.

—I’m glad we did it, even though it took us a while.

—Me too, love, me too.

They walked on along the seafront. The air smelled of brine and seaweed. John grinned. They’d have to get used to that. Aoife linked her arm through his.

—We’ll be alright, won’t we, John?

—We’re a long way from home, but we’ll be fine.