He took her back to the hotel and Ray let herself inside their room. Fari’s body was stiff under the duvet. She brushed her teeth, climbed in. Curled up, closing her eyes. She felt the cover move, heard him turn, and his hands were on her, so she turned to meet him. They pulled each other’s underwear free, made love. They were crying, placing kisses all over each other. ‘They won’t take me on my own,’ she said, and he shook his head, saying they would. They needed women more than men, he was sure. Ray knew it was possible. And if it was, she had to. Afterwards they calmed, on their backs, breathing slow, pushing each other away. She tried to sleep. Couldn’t. She got up, dressed, curled on the small sofa bed and closed her eyes. At one forty-five she got up, pulling on her shoes. She blew a kiss towards Fari, going before her sobs disturbed him even more.

The stillness of the night was comforting. No one to see her guilt. She stifled her cries against the back of her hand, remembering the colour of Naunet’s and the Nommo’s dark palms matching their knuckles. She thought of her children being like that. Amphibious when their mother was not. Shit. She had no equipment. How was she going to reach Hanoa? She hadn’t thought of that. Ray kept going, down the incline of beach, kicking yellow puffs, slipping off her shoes and holding them in hooked fingers. The tide exhaled beyond her. She looked. There were voices, formless and distant, no one in view. Overhead, the constellations shimmered among the thin veil of Milky Way. She got closer to the water, which had eaten half of the beach, and there they were, rising like modest titans, Mesi and Okoro. They were naked as before, though she hardly noticed, she was so happy. Each had diving equipment dangling from their hands, gifted by Richie she realised. She needn’t have worried. Obviously they’d think of that. She was smiling, walking faster, splashing seawater.

‘Thank God,’ Ray said. ‘Thank God.’

‘Yewande …’ Okoro greeted, arms wide. He stopped, trouble reaching his dark eyes. They looked over her shoulder, mouths open.

‘What’s wrong?’ she said, even as she knew.

‘Fari?’ Okoro’s tone was light, eyebrows lifted. Ray saw disappointment, felt early jealousy. They didn’t care about her. They wanted him.

‘He’s not here?’ Mesi peered behind her as though she were intentionally blocking her view. Ray’s heart cried silent pain.

‘You must be a couple. Male and female work best.’ Okoro’s eyes were wide. Yes, there was sympathy. He saw her emotion. Yet he shook his head, unwilling. ‘We tried before. With one. It doesn’t work. Two is all.’