The three walked in silence past the marina and ocean baths and down onto the sand, where Kelly and Ben took their shoes off. Gordon realised he had left home without shoes. They were almost across to the southern end of Bluebird Beach when Kelly stopped, her face in her hands, and moaned quietly.

‘Kel,’ Gordon said.

‘I can’t go up there.’

‘You can’t face Carl?’

‘I can’t face you.’ She dropped her hands. ‘You lied to me. For our entire life together. You told your first lie the night of my fucking disaster, and you’ve stuck with it ever since. Are you proud of that?’

‘I never lied.’

‘Gordon, you opened your heart to me.’

‘I didn’t lie. I just didn’t finish the story.’

‘This is so you, Gordon. You know what I went away thinking. You know what you left me thinking ever since.’

‘Who else can I be?’

‘Someone who tells the truth, you piece of shit! You told me about him falling backwards with the smile on his face. This was the most extreme moment of vulnerability—I thought for both of us, you and me, that night—and you left me with that image of your brother. You have been happy for thirty years for me to believe Owen took his life.’

‘Not happy.’

She turned to Ben. ‘I believed your father was getting something really heavy off his chest. It was obvious the boys had lied, everyone in Bluebird knew that. Playing armies and Owen slipped? But it was left alone. They were boys. I was the only person he’d told the truth to—which, I thought, was that Owen jumped. It made me special, to know the real thing. A secret shared is a secret halved, eh, Gordon?’

‘Why would Owen jump?’ Ben said.

Kelly stood wringing her hands. Quietly, she replied, ‘Same reason kids are jumping now. Same reason all these cliffs are fucking graveyards. Who knew what happened to your father’s brother? I don’t know, because your father has never allowed me to talk about it. So it was left to me to think about it. And, you know, there were all these bad men around the place then. Rumours about Mr Abottemey, Tony Eastaugh, even bloody stupid Red Cap’s a registered sex offender—I don’t know, Gordon, do you want me to run through all the stories? Do you want me to talk about my own father? Or does it mean nothing now, because Owen didn’t fucking well jump? Because you—you pushed him off? How is that meant to make us feel about you, Gordon? How’s it meant to make me feel?’

She lunged at him with her fists. Gordon bowed his head and closed his eyes and waited for her blows to rain down. But Ben got his arms around her, first in restraint and then, as she dissolved into tears, in comfort.