He lifted the key out from under the stone and threw open the door of the old light-keepers’ house. He stepped into the hallway and found the letter for which he had prepared himself waiting inside the hall door. It had slipped off the hall stand onto the ground. With the envelope in his hand, he stepped into the kitchen. Unwashed dishes from an unfinished meal sat on the table. A black jumper belonging to Catherine was thrown over a chair. He touched the dark wool. He marvelled at its familiarity and warmth. He lifted the envelope. When he saw how she formed her letters, her presence came very slowly to him. He stood for a split-second with a marvelling look on his face.

Then his heart began its furious beat. He kissed the damp envelope and tore it open. It was good to hear your voice. I hope you remember your promise to me. We must stay sober. And I have to admit I’m also fighting off wretched imaginings that someone else will be enjoying you in my place – but I’m trusting you, treading thin ice in the hope that some day we’ll be skating along without fear.

I love you.

He was possessed by a terrible sensation that he was deluding himself. He could not believe it. He searched round in his mind for the signs of insanity, but there were none. He was in the kitchen of the old light-keepers’ house on Mullet peninsula. It was blowing sand. His world had been magically restored. The nightmare was over.

Jack, she had written, I love you and want to be with you. We have a break this weekend and I’ll be down to see you. There are other people and we could be with them. But we know we want to be with each other. Let’s grow old and sober together.

He saw himself waiting on the new bridge the following afternoon. He saw her alight from the car and begin running towards him. Overcome with happiness he sat there in the December dusk. He hung the cloth out to dry on the line. The bark of a dog flew by.