“Please. Just one drink. I don’t want to be on my own right now.” He smiles, and the innocent little boy is back. The water seems to have sobered him greatly, but his eyes are still red and haunted. His fingers brush lightly across Tyler’s wrist.

“One drink,” he says. And he knows, even as he says it, that it’s never just one drink.

—

The journey home seems much shorter.

Once they had met up with the others down by the wharf, everyone was a lot less inclined to any further walking. Someone suggested they retire to a local pub until the coach could pick them up. It was shortly after the third sherry that Lily noticed the man in the corner staring at her. A grizzly fisherman with a nicotine-stained beard that collected the foam from his ale with every mouthful. His eyes never left hers, and though she tried to avoid his gaze, there was something about him that kept drawing her back. She was so relieved when someone announced the arrival of the coach, she determined to look him straight in the eye as she passed him on the way out. But when she turned to do so, he was gone.

On the coach, the seat belt cuts across Lily’s bust, causing her brassiere to dig into her bony chest. Her feet don’t quite touch the floor. The seat next to her is empty, and she keeps glancing up the aisle to make sure the reverend doesn’t suddenly decide to sit with her and continue their conversation. She squirms in her seat trying to adjust her undergarments and then lurches forward as the coach brakes and swerves. Someone calls loudly down the bus, “Missed ’em!” There’s a smattering of laughter.

The buzz of the sherry in Lily’s blood makes her nauseous. She looks out of the window and watches the scrubby gray verge at the side of the motorway as it whizzes past them, her reflection merging with the panning background. It makes her head spin, and she feels like she’s melting into ash. She thinks about Edna all alone back at the cottage, and suddenly she wants to be home. Whatever was she thinking? What a fool she’s been! Edna was right.

Edna is always right.

Lily closes her eyes and then, before she knows it, they’re pulling up at the end of Oliver Road.

“I’ll walk you up,” Mrs. Thorogood offers.

“Really, there’s no need.”

Mrs. Thorogood doesn’t argue for long. “Well, if you’re sure.” She gives Lily a tight hug, which Lily finds a little overfamiliar, but then, that is what it’s like these days, isn’t it? All kissing both cheeks and public displays of affection. The reverend hangs back, thankfully.

“We must do something soon. Coffee or something?”