Joseph spread his arms. A gesture of surrender. He looked away, incapable of locking eyes with her for long. Nefyn’s head tilted to the side.

‘Are you scared of me, Joseph?’

Nefyn heard Hamza retreat to the kitchen. Leaving them alone. Joseph looked at her. Her eyes filled. ‘What do you think I’ll do? You’re my brother. We were born into this together.’

He shook his head. ‘You were born into this.’

‘No, we were both born into this.’

‘I’m not like you!’ His voice was raised now.

‘What am I like, Joseph?’

He rubbed his head. His back against the door.

‘What am I like, Joseph? Say it!’

‘No!’

‘Why?’ Nefyn laughed. A bitter silence settling between them.

‘You lied to me about Efa. You said she couldn’t be trusted. You lied to me about those pills.’

‘No.’

‘You lied to me.’

Joseph rounded on her. ‘Do you know what they’d do to you if they found you? Do you have any idea of how cruel they can be?’ His voice was rising now. ‘You’ve not seen it! You’ve not felt it! Do you know what they do to people who are different? You have no idea.’

‘You said you were looking after me.’

‘I was!’

‘You said—’

‘You wouldn’t last a minute in the real world. It’s me who has to work, me who has to work things out.’

Nefyn looked at him. He looked like he had always done as a boy. Spiteful. Sheepish. Brotherly. His eyes dropped. His voice softened and, suddenly, his face crumpled.

‘I saw you, collecting things. Your things from the sea. Precious things. Looking after them. I was just doing the same.’

Joseph looked up, his countenance open now. His eyes luminous with tears. Nefyn watched him carefully.

‘I was keeping you safe, Nefyn.’

‘But that couldn’t last, could it?’ she said.

Joseph shook his head. He looked at her. Her face had filled out. Her skin whiter somehow, a contrast to her hair. So similar to their mother.

‘I don’t want to lose you, Nefyn.’ His eyes were darkening now as he searched her face. ‘You’re all I’ve got left.’

It was dark now, save for the muted light in the kitchen. His features looked softer, too, and they stood for a moment until she felt Hamza come to stand in the doorframe behind her. The tempering of Joseph’s voice drawing him nearer. Joseph looked away. Shrugged away his confession as if it were nothing.

‘Joseph—’ Nefyn began.

‘I can help him,’ he cut across her, his embarrassment sharpening his words.

He looked up, looked at Hamza standing behind Nefyn, his hands on her arms. He looked towards the floor again. His posture defeated.

‘I can help him. If that’s what you want.’