This morning, the air was more blue than grey. A light breeze blew the grasses on the cliffs. The sea, touched with a sullen jade green. They made their way down the path, the wind pulling at their clothes. Nefyn reached the cove first, her familiar route to the strandline now untrodden. She kept watch whilst Hamza moved towards the boatshed, pulled open the door. The air was musty, dark. Joseph’s empty bottles on the floor, the smell of urine, dust lit up in the cold air. He pulled at the tarpaulin, squinted. Pushed open the door further to get more light. He wished he had paid more attention to his grandfather. His skills. He walked the length of her, looking for damage. Knelt down, lay on his back to squeeze under the hull, his hands feeling for any roughness on her bows. Some loose timber. He got up again. Looked around. There were tools here, some parts. As the list of things they would require grew in his mind, the difficulty of it all made him throw down the tarpaulin once again.

He heard a familiar voice behind him. He stood stock-still, his hearing sharpening. The sound of footsteps on the shale. He stepped away, behind the door. A figure approaching. He saw Nefyn turn towards it. Hamza recognized him immediately. The way he walked. He was shouting, shouting at Nefyn. Drunk? It was difficult to tell. Hamza knew who he was looking for. He felt his body suddenly pulled tight. He watched as he approached her, his gait wild, unsteady. Some words exchanged. Nefyn held her ground, but his movements suggested an agitation that Hamza wasn’t prepared to risk. He knew Nefyn wouldn’t betray his presence, that it would be up to him. He watched as he got closer to her. The anger, the kindling inside him growing, snapping, taking hold.

‘I’m here!’ Hamza shouted. His whole body suddenly full of adrenaline. He walked out of the darkness, felt the light of day on his face. He was tired of hiding. The figure spun around.

‘It’s me you want.’ Hamza stood there in the open, his arms by his sides. Owens turned towards him. Laughed loudly, bitterly. Hamza started walking towards him.

‘Well, well, well … here he is … the invisible man …’ said Owens, savouring every moment. Hamza noticed that he was unsteady on his feet. Nefyn’s eyes flicked to Hamza’s face. She saw that he knew him. ‘They’re looking for you all over.’ His voice was brimming with contempt. As Hamza neared him, he signalled Nefyn to move backwards to safety, but she stood still. Owens stuck out his chin, his words running into each other. ‘You think you’re clever, don’t you? Eh?’

‘No.’

‘Scum like you should be stamped out.’