“This is Granton beach,” Charles said.
I looked along the coast. With the picturesque old port of Newhaven to the east and the humped, green island of Cramond to the west, it was an idyllic spot, yet within easy walking distance of Edinburgh. The waves of the Firth of Forth broke gently on the curving shore, with the spring sun kissing the coast of Fife opposite and a two-masted collier brig nosing through a fleet of a score of local fishing boats half a mile offshore.
“I should be working,” I said. “I should be in my surgery, trying to convince sick and wealthy patients to come to me.”
“You need some relaxation.” Charles was quite persuasive when he tried. “Nothing beats a good swim. Come on!”
The temptation was too much. Pushing my financial and professional worries to one side, I su
