They parked in the next-door bay, where a large metal egg lay on its side. Leaning against it were Gwen and a man in neatly old fashioned clothes. They were sharing a plate of sandwiches.

Gwen waved as they drew up.

Agnes rushed from the van, pecked Gwen quickly on the cheek, and then hugged George Herbert Sanderson tightly. Gwen ran over to Rhys and grabbed him before he even made it out of the van.

‘Aw,’ Jack smiled and turned to Ianto, but found him throwing up behind a sand dune. Jack went and patted him on the shoulder.

‘Never let me drink rum again,’ Ianto wailed.

‘Don’t worry, I won’t.’ Jack rubbed his hair, and then, cradling him in his arms, walked him back to the others. ‘This,’ he said to the beach in general, ‘is a great spot for a picnic. Let’s bunk off. It’s going to be a lovely day.’

And then it started to rain.