He sat down, asked more questions. Asked about why this man deserved a chance. Joseph told him that he had a son, that he didn’t know if he was alive, and he could see his eyes flicker to a place in his head which stored the pictures of his own son, who lived with his mother and who he barely saw. He thought, too, about the monotony of his life, the loading and unloading. The feeling that he was a facilitator, rather than an actor. That he could be replaced a thousand times over and no one would know the difference, and something within him changed. He swore under his breath, then laughed once more, nodded his head imperceptibly.

‘OK,’ he said, ‘I’ll see what I can do.’

33

Fever ♦ Twymyn ♦ Hima

EFA HAD HEARD HIS breath shortening over the last few days. She had woken in the night and found him hot to the touch. She opened the bedroom window and switched on a light. He was pale. She brought him some medication for his fever. Since then, his lungs had been bubbling, as if full of water. She wondered whether to call a doctor out but Emrys didn’t know the new one and she didn’t want to upset him.

She knew it had been too good to last. It was almost as if the last few years of withdrawing had allowed him the energy to work on the boat. Now that had been expended, there seemed to be nothing left. Efa watched over him as he slept, as dawn broke over the harbour.

She would not begrudge Nefyn or Hamza his time. Emrys had seemed happier in the last two weeks than he had been in years. Even though she knew that it was almost killing him, perhaps it was better than the way they had been living. Efa had been thinking about Nefyn and how different she seemed now. How present she was. How everything that had happened until Nefyn had invited her into the house was grainy and black and white. She was worried about her, though. Emrys’s leaving was a slow one, and she had had some time to reconcile herself to it. Hamza’s leaving would be sudden and in the swell of their love for each other. It would be painful for her, Efa knew that. How painful remained to be seen.

Emrys was murmuring now. Efa moved towards him, placed a palm on his forehead. He was cooler. She sat on the edge of the bed, watching as his eyes opened, found her form. He looked at her steadily for a moment. His eyes unmoving. His mouth gaping. Trying to find the shape of words.

‘Shshsh.’

‘Heb … hebrwng.’

Efa looked at him. Took his hand, held it in her lap. His wedding ring loose on his finger, the metal worn thin.

‘Hebrwng.’

‘You’re ill,’ said Efa gently. ‘Just a fever. You’ll be better soon.’

‘The boat.’