They never stopped bickering, but in the end it didn't matter. Day or night, sun or rain, history or ships – it was all good, their differences only making the time they spent together more stimulating if anything.

The quick peck on the cheek they shared twice a day – at seven in the morning, and then again at seven in the evening – soon became part of their routine, a far more pleasant start (and finish) to their shifts than any Mike had ever dreamt of having. And then it was the weekend, when neither of them had to sit at a desk and they could spend hours curled up in bed watching films and drinking hot chocolate.

He would tell her about the ships, sometimes; while she would try and make him remember the date of some random historical event, just for the fun of it.

Their colleagues were mildly amused when the weather house was placed in prominent display on their desk – which they now agreed was simultaneously a reception and a security desk, but even that didn't matter because Griselda had been right all along.

The tuning fork had indeed changed his life, and so much for the better.