‘It sounded beautiful,’ Hamza said quietly. Nefyn smiled, her eyes still on the sea.

‘Some people think it’s like speaking with ashes. But when I’m angry. The words … they catch light.’ Hamza watched as the birds fought the breeze, remaining entirely still in the evening sky. ‘Joseph and I were born together,’ she said softly. ‘We were so close. I always knew when he was in trouble; it was something else besides words. But he’s … it’s like he doesn’t have a centre any more.’ Nefyn looked cold, and instinctively Hamza placed his arm around her.

‘Come,’ he said.

She allowed herself to rest against him as he looked out at the startling beauty of the sea. His eyes were still becoming accustomed to its vastness, its restlessness, after the deadening stillness of his cell. They listened a while to the sea breathing.

‘I had a compass once. When I didn’t know where to turn, it was as if it gave me a place. A place to start from. Whatever lay ahead, I knew where I was somehow.’

Nefyn listened as his words were stolen by the breeze.

‘What happened to it?’ she asked.

‘It was thrown into the sea,’ he said quietly, ‘just before I was.’ He smiled. They sat in silence again.

‘Do you think that I’m ill?’ she asked. She didn’t dare look into his face but her body stiffened under his arm as he considered.

‘I’ve seen how people treat each other in this world.’ He paused, gathering his thoughts. ‘You received me without judgement. With kindness. With acceptance. I think that maybe you are well. It is everyone else on this Earth that is sick.’

17

Harbour ♦ Harbwr ♦ Mina’

EFA LAID HER ARM across the bed and realized that he wasn’t there. The sheets had been pushed back, the bed cold. She opened her eyes. He was gone. She descended the stairs calling his name, her panic rising with each step. The front door was open. Her heart sank. She pulled a coat off the bottom bannister and ran outside, the moon strong enough not to need a torch. The gate was open, too.

He had wandered off in the supermarket before, sometimes failed to find his way back from the gents in cafés, but he had never walked out of the house. Efa instinctively turned left down into the village, the way they usually took, because the pavement seemed to tip you that way down the slope. She shouted his name, but nothing came back except the barking of dogs and the sound of her own voice reverberating in the empty street.

She thought about what they had discussed before bed, combed her mind for any clues as she walked, her coat opening to reveal the white cotton nightdress underneath.

‘Emrys!’