NEFYN ALLOWED HIS WEIGHT to fall back on to the chair by the fire. The cottage was cold, its stones and slates hard to heat, but the fire was better than nothing. She wrapped a blanket around his shoulders and stepped back, unsure what to do next. His temples were damp with sweat, his chest labouring. She stood, feeling the heat of his body against hers dissipate into the cold room. Waiting to see if his breathing would settle before fetching him another tablet.

He looked up at her face as she offered it to him, took it and pressed it to his mouth, swallowing the tablet whole. She offered him water but he just hung his head. She waited, watching. Listened to his breathing and the fire gaining strength.

‘Who lives here with you?’ he asked eventually.

‘My brother, but he’s away fishing.’ Her voice was small. Her breathing shallow. He looked up at her.

‘Did you tell anyone about me?’

Nefyn shook her head and thought she saw his shoulders drop imperceptibly.

‘I’m sorry,’ he mumbled again. His breathing becoming more ragged. He studied her face, the stillness in it.

‘This makes no sense. I shouldn’t be here … I …’ His words failed him once again. ‘I was a prisoner at the base. The military base – you know it?’

Nefyn nodded.

‘How far is it? How far from here?’ he asked.

‘Not far.’ She shrugged. ‘Maybe five miles.’

He nodded.

‘There was an accident. They were trying to move me … I was in the water.’

He started coughing again. Nefyn waited for it to ease.

‘Do you have a phone I could use?’ Nefyn shook her head, her green eyes troubled. Hamza nodded.

‘Listen … you’ve done so much for me.’ He laughed. ‘I don’t know who … maybe God, maybe …’ he tailed off. He shook his head, his thoughts muddled. ‘But if you can find it in your heart to trust me, not tell anyone I am here.’

She was looking at him now, her eyes darkening.

‘I understand if you can’t … but if you could …’

Nefyn thought for a moment about who she could tell. A silence fell between them as he awaited her response.

‘Will you help me?’ he asked again.

She was difficult to read, her face at once closed and accepting. There were no questions. No asking for details. It was as if she had been expecting him. Finally, Nefyn nodded. His shoulders dropped.

‘I’m Hamza. My name is Hamza.’

Nefyn repeated the name in her head.

‘Nefyn,’ she said.

They studied each other a moment. Then she nodded simply.

‘I’ve made you some food.’