When Owen and Sam finished their surf and came back to find that Gordon had left the secret ledge, Owen flipped out. He was furious at Gordon for quitting his special post, and he was scared of their father’s reaction. Owen was always getting beltings from the old men. Mr Chidgey got into him over the mess he and the other boys always left at The Lodge. Mr Eastaugh targeted him at the surf club, convinced he was a bad egg leading Sam astray. Then there was Mr Abottemey, always showing up unexpectedly at their home late at night to talk to their dad. Mr Abottemey hated kids in general but singled Owen out, glaring at him like he was a personal enemy, responsible for all the juvenile delinquency that, in Mr Abottemey’s view, was going to kill this place the minute he let his supervision lapse.

They shouted and screamed his name, but Owen and Sam couldn’t find Gordon. They would be in the deepest of deep shit. Sam said they had to go back to the Grimes’ house. Maybe Gordon had gone home. Owen argued that if they went home and Gordon wasn’t there, his parents would call the emergency services, triggering a whole missing-boy drama and, as sure as night followed day, Owen would get a belting.

Just then, they heard what they thought was a nest of baby birds crying. Owen followed the whimpers to the end of the ledge. Sam joined him. They looked down. Gordon was sitting, his knees bunched at his ears, his arms around his shins, crying between his legs.

‘Oi!’ Owen called. ‘What you doing?’

Gordon couldn’t climb back up. He had been too ashamed, or too upset, to answer their calls. Owen laughed with relief: he wouldn’t have to notify the adults and get in trouble for losing his little brother! Gordon tried to laugh along, but he soon realised Owen and Sam couldn’t get to him. There was a sheer drop below him of about thirty feet to the blowhole. The ocean was smashing into the headland and spraying him. He was cold and drenched, and the rock face was like soap.

‘I’ve got to get down to him,’ Owen said to Sam.

‘Let me go to the surf club.’

‘If I can get down to him, I can get him up.’

‘Don’t, O.’

While Sam stood watch, helpless to change Owen’s mind, Owen edged down to Gordon. They hugged briefly, but Owen was then faced with the dilemma of how to get Gordon back up. Gordon, snivelling and frightened, made it clear that he couldn’t climb. Owen could make it back up himself, if he was lucky, but what was he to do with Gordon? Put him on his back? Gordon flat-out refused. He didn’t know if he could hold onto Owen’s back.