‘No, you were going to fall that day … I felt it. I knew it. I came because you needed me, but then you were so angry.’ Joseph was quiet. The thought that she may not have known how to treat him strange. He nodded. They sat in silence a moment.

‘It’s going to have to be Saturday morning, then,’ he said eventually, still not looking at her.

‘That’s three days,’ Nefyn answered.

‘There’ll be less people, on the boats and at the lookouts. Things will go easier.’ Nefyn thought about this as Joseph continued. ‘There’s a smaller freight ship going to the South of France. There’ll be some papers for him on the boat. He’ll have to make his own way from there. If we miss the highest tide, it means another week’s wait, and we can’t risk that.’

Nefyn could hear Hamza in the house, walking around, washing, dressing. His sounds had become part of the place.

‘I’ll bring the boat out of the boatshed the night before. Moor it on the rocks. There’s no other way without drawing a crowd.’

Hamza came outside. Sat with them a moment.

‘Emrys is ill,’ said Nefyn. ‘I went to him last night.’

Joseph turned to look at her.

‘You went there?’

Nefyn nodded.

‘He wants to take Hamza out.’

Joseph shook his head.

‘He’s too old.’

‘Please, Joseph.’

‘You’ll be putting his life in his hands,’ he said gesturing to Hamza. ‘His mind’s not right, we only have one chance, and if he’s ill as well … We need him as a decoy, to draw some attention away from what we’re doing.’

Nefyn let the subject rest, knew there was no point pushing him.

‘How far is the boat from finished?’

Hamza shrugged his shoulders.

‘Not far.’

Joseph nodded.

‘We’d better have a look, then,’ he said. Joseph got up, glad of the excuse to do so. He waited for Hamza to get a coat, then he turned and led the way to the cove, leaving Nefyn looking out to sea.