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“Me neither,” he said. “Shall we get some?”

“Sure,” said Lucy. They joined the short queue at the stall. As they got closer, and the smell got stronger, Lucy’s appetite disappeared. She didn’t exactly feel nauseous, just that she didn’t really want to eat anything. She silently cursed her pregnancy hormones as Dylan paid, and held out the bag for her to have the first nut. She took one and gingerly put it into her mouth as they moved on to the next stall. Her brain was confused: she could kind of tell it was delicious, but her body also didn’t want it. She sighed.

“What do you think?” Dylan asked, putting another chestnut in his mouth and offering her the bag. “Good, right?”

Lucy pulled a face.

“Nausea’s back?” he asked, looking concerned.

“Sort of,” Lucy replied. “I’m not feeling really sick. Just like I definitely don’t want to eat them.”

“You poor thing.”

“I’m fine, let’s go and check out the Ferris wheel,” Lucy said. “There’s hardly any queue.”

“You want to go on the Ferris wheel?” Dylan said.

“Absolutely! The view of the town and the beach will be amazing! Look how gorgeous the sea looks this evening.”

“Are you sure it’s a good idea to go on there? You’ve been getting nauseous really easily and it might not be great for your dizziness being up . . . that high.”

“I’m only nauseous around food. The dizziness is so much better with the iron supplements you got me,” Lucy said. “I’ll be fine.”

“It might not be safe for the baby,” he suggested.

Lucy’s eyebrows raised. “How might it not be safe? It’s basically sitting in a chair.”

“A swinging chair, up high,” Dylan said, pointing up at the top of the wheel.

Lucy laughed and took hold of his hand. “Don’t be daft. Come on.” She dragged him over to where people were getting on the ride. She let go of Dylan’s hand while she handed over money for them both, and then climbed onto the waiting seat. Dylan got in next to her and the bar was put across them before they started to slowly move up.

Lucy glanced across at Dylan. “Are you OK?” she gasped. “You’ve gone very pale.” His hands were gripping the rail in front of him so hard that his knuckles were white.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine,” he replied. His eyes looked resolutely down at the bottom of the carriage.

“You are not!” she said firmly. “What’s the matter?”

Dylan was silent but she waited patiently for him to reply.

“I’m not great with heights,” he finally admitted.

“Oh, my goodness, I’m so sorry. I had no idea,” said Lucy, looking around her like there might be a handy staircase leading them back to the ground instead of them continuing to go upwards.

“It’s fine,” Dylan said.

It clearly wasn’t and she felt terrible for doing this to him.

Lucy inched closer towards him. “Do you want to hold my hand?” she asked.

“Um, no,” Dylan said. “Thank you, but I need to hang on to the bar.”

“What if I put my arm around you?”

She moved her right arm, placing it around him. She felt his body stiffen. She moved closer, wedging herself against him and felt him relax a little.

“Thanks,” he muttered.

“So, do you think Ellen and Jo are managing without us? What a busy evening. You know, I was kind of dreading doing it, but it’s turned out really well . . .” Lucy rambled, determined to keep his mind off where they were. “And who knew you were such a whizz with the toastie makers? Total pro.”