Her eyes were dull. Her body was stiff. Her limbs leaden. She was lying on her bed, her hair clinging together with salt. The bedclothes were stained with dampness. He turned her on to her side. His hands trembling, the familiar weight of the compass in his hand. Her eyes rolled back in her head.

‘Al’ama,’ he swore.

He picked her up, an arm underneath her neck, the other under the crook of her knees. Carried her to the chair by the fire. Pulled the heavy wool cardigan from her shoulders, her arms. Her head was tilting to the side. He tugged her dress over her head. Rubbed her hands in his. He ran back to Joseph’s room, yanked off the blanket, dropped it on the hearth. He pushed some twigs into the fireplace, tried to steady his hands long enough to strike a match. Then, he took off his own jumper. Dragged Nefyn to her feet. Wrapped his body around her, the blanket around his shoulders, and pressed her to him. She was frigid with cold. Icy. He tucked her head under his chin like a child, started praying through instinct. He pulled her down, towards the fire, all the time willing it to burn, to find its heat. He listened as it crackled, the fire finding its voice, creeping, catching. He could hear her heart beating against his. Slowly. She smelled of the sea. The movement of his chest rustling the compass on its chain. He opened his palm in disbelief and looked at the dial. Pressed it to his face, his lips, felt its familiar form on his skin. He clicked it open. There was no doubt about it – it was his, the pin spinning, unable to settle. He closed it once again, his stomach lurching as she started shivering in his arms. Her whole body convulsing. He held her, steadied her against him. It was still dark outside, the blackness dense and starless. She must have been searching for it. She must … He could not think of it. It didn’t make sense. He felt the tremor in her body.

He had seen this kind of shivering before. A body in shock. When Fatima had given birth to Hussein. He had come into the world too quickly. Her body hadn’t had time to adjust. As his slippery form was placed on her breasts, she convulsed. Both of them quivered, with the suddenness, the brutality of birth, the relentlessness of living things.

He held Nefyn for hours, feeling his own heat seep into her, leaving him cold and stiff. The shivering eventually stopped, as her body became accustomed to the idea of life again. Her breathing steadied. It was getting lighter now, the blue light of dawn somehow bluer against the whitewashed walls.

Hamza knew she was awake, without looking. Without asking.