Efa’s cheeks flushed, as she was guilty of this as much as anyone. It was as if she had always looked over Joseph’s shoulder, searching for Nefyn. Her absence making her more present. Efa shrugged contritely ‘We’ve all got brothers and sisters, that’s what happens.’

‘No.’ He shook his head, his jaw setting. ‘Not like her.’

A coldness crept up Efa’s spine. She had heard the stories, of course. The things Emrys sometimes said in his sleep. The way the memories seemed to resurface over and over in his failing mind. Efa fumbled for the words. Careful.

‘Is she …’ She thought for a moment. ‘I always thought about your mother, that there was something different about her … Is … is Nefyn the same?’ Efa tried to control the trembling in her body. Tried to look ahead. As if his answer made no difference to her. As if it would be mundane.

‘Yes,’ he said simply.

Efa knew. She already knew. Her own father had told her the stories. About them. How they sometimes intermarried. How they were unknowable.

‘It’s like …’ he continued, ‘it’s like she holds her breath on land.’

Efa felt her neck and chest prickle.

‘If they find her …’ Joseph rubbed his face with his palms, left the implications to Efa to fathom. Efa’s thoughts turned. Her mind busy.

‘You see, she killed someone.’

Efa’s eyes snapped up to his face.

‘Made him walk into the sea. I told … I told him, a guard, where Hamza was … he went to find him and she made him walk into the sea.’

Efa took this in for a moment.

‘She made him?’

‘She … she … He just walked into the sea.’

Efa thought of Nefyn’s mother. Her loyalty to her. Her needing to be accepted as clean. As clear of sin. The silent promise she had made to herself to look after the children.

‘If they’re looking for him,’ she began, ‘the best way to protect her is to help him.’ Joseph exhaled noisily. ‘Think about it.’ She turned her body to face him. ‘Nobody knows the cove like you do. Nobody knows how to navigate the sea. The watchtowers.’ He shook his head. ‘Joseph? Do you want to protect her?’

He nodded.

‘Then, it’s the only way.’

Joseph took in her words. Tried to arrange them so that they made sense to him.

‘With your help, he’ll get away quicker.’

They sat for a moment. One thinking about the impossibility of what she had just heard. The other about the impossibility of what he must do.

Owens’s bloated body came in at the tide’s insistence. The sea had tried for several days to offer him up and, on the third day, it had succeeded. He was found, slack-jawed and sunken-eyed, south of the harbour, by a man sent out of the house by his wife to smoke. The police had arrived and cordoned the place off.