‘I’m not sure which of us was unluckier,’ Kelly said, and regretted it. Her fucking levity. Her fucking acid levity.

‘I wonder if he’s trying to reconnect with the self he left behind,’ Jude said, eyes still on Carl.

‘Too far behind.’

‘Or if he’s trying to find a way to survive all this …’

‘All this good fortune.’

Jude smiled. ‘All this sunshine and health!’

‘The sunshine that kills us.’

‘I think it’s killing your brother right now. Look at the poor guy.’

Carl shone marble-white in his heavy coat, like a Soviet agent given the wrong weather information. He seemed in some kind of waxen fever, cold and overheated at once, about to congeal.

‘Don’t think Leonie’s put Carl in The Lodge to help his recovery,’ Kelly said with genuine sadness. ‘Once he’s served his purpose she’ll turf him out.’

Jude looked surprised at her vehemence.

‘I’m not Carl’s keeper,’ Kelly added. ‘I can’t even keep myself. I need to be shedding, not accumulating.’

‘What you need and what you do are separate things. It’s what I keep telling your son.’

A gunshot started the intermediate girls’ surf boat race. The swell was not large, but the relentless short-period nor’-east wind chop threw the boats to left and right as they attempted to bash ahead. These summery conditions made the race a lottery. Lou’s crew did well going out, making the most of their draw, and were in the top three as they rounded the buoys. Leonie was jumping up and down in her ridiculous yellow and red, while Carl, ghost-pale, spread his arms as if summoning a migration. Down on the sand, Ben and Lou clasped each other.

‘Are they going to win?’ Jude asked.

Gordon, who had joined them, shook his head. ‘It’s zero sum. The rip helps them on the way out, but it’ll stuff them on the way back. No waves breaking inside means no push.’

Sure enough, once the girls’ boat turned back to the beach, it began to bob as if the crew were rowing against a river. What the rip had given, it now took away. They staggered in behind nine or ten other boats. Capri won, their Amazon-like crew having gone methodically about their business. When you were that superior there was no need for excitement. Those girls must have been chewing steroids with their baby formula, Kelly thought; they were bigger than Gordon and not yet sixteen years old. Among Lou’s crew, Kelly could see the disappointment even from a distance. Outside their tearful circle, Ben slumped. The usual reality check. Bluebirders were world-beaters, as long as they kept the world out.