0.4

Dusk creeps slowly forwards and meets the last light of the sun drowning in the West. Across the water, the city is already in darkness, and lights have blinked awake in the marina. The harbour is utterly still. Over there, on the other side of the bay, there are many stories to be told in the night that comes. Before tomorrow's light shines in the water and the waves wake once more, there will have been a whole thriving night of change and new life.

Number Three

Ruby wears Egyptian hand-woven wrap, provinence Luxor; pink fleece, The North Face; Cornish sea salt.

Ruby's child is called Oakley and he is cradled in her lap, wrapped warmly in the thick rug around both of them. He has his father's blonde curly hair and Ruby's grey eyes. He is asleep, worn out with water and sun. The daylight has already sunk behind the dunes, leaving just a reflection in the blue miles of sky and sea. Long shadows rear their arms towards mother and child, where she sits and watches the ever-encroaching surf.