She had thought of the things that she would miss, and what she had decided she would miss most was the drinking of tea in contented silence. The sound of him moving about. That was all. After all these years, but they seemed like the most important things now. She made them some supper which they took in the living room, and carried tea to him. He had tried to get a slice of the cake out of her too, but she had resisted. It was one of their games, her trying to keep cake from him before it had even cooled down properly.

Then, when the colourful lights around the harbour had been illuminated, they had placed his bag by the door, and walked upstairs. He had insisted on sleeping in his fisherman’s jumper, and she had no strength left to argue with him. It might be difficult to get him ready anyway so early, so at least if he were dressed it would be something. She held him to her, felt him rub her fingers between his, and when he felt her cry into his back, he found a sudden strength.

‘It’s all right, my darling,’ he said. ‘It’s all right.’

Joseph had come to stay at the cottage and wasn’t there for long before he realized it wasn’t his home any more. His things were still there, of course, his clothes, but they had been inhabited by someone else. Perhaps he had changed, too.

The three of them ate together, and then Joseph and Hamza smoked a while, Joseph smiling as the older man coughed, having not smoked for so long. Then he went for a walk, so Hamza and Nefyn could be by themselves. His body was aching already from the monumental task of getting the boat into the water. It was a relief to stretch his legs, his arms. He had walked as far as Porth y Wrach, looked down at the spot where he almost drowned all those years ago, and thought about what Nefyn had said. He had been defined by her, it was true, but he had also let himself be defined by his fear. He thought for a moment of his father. The way he had blamed his mother for things. He felt a discomfort in the pit of his stomach.