He had sensed movement to the west, beyond the rocks. A patrol, perhaps. His hand tightened on the butt of the pistol. He needed to warn the rower about the patrol, but there was no way of doing so without some sort of torch or lamp to send a signal. And they had nothing.

He heard a scuffling sound. Boots on sand and pebbles, perhaps – but no voices. Wilde crept along the rocks to try to get a view. An animal scuttled away back into the woods and he almost laughed. Scared by a fox; how the darkness and wind distorted our perceptions. There was no patrol.

The small rowing boat beached with a rush, tossed ashore by a crashing wave, and the oarsman jumped out, grabbing the prow to hold her steady. The man switched on an electric torch and allowed the beam to sweep across the three drenched people waiting for him, lingering on Wilde a little longer than the others. Then he gave a cursory nod by way of greeting. He didn’t say anything, just gestured to the boat. The gist was obvious: Get in, fast. This is going to be difficult.

Sunny stepped forward and climbed in confidently, as though she had done this many times before. The boat rocked violently; even partially beached it was unstable.

Wilde picked up Klara.

‘Come on, in you go.’

‘I don’t like this.’

‘It’s going to be fun. In a few minutes you’ll be nice and warm in a big boat with a bed of your own.’

Without ceremony, he handed her over to Sunny, who accepted the child in her outstretched arms. Then Wilde climbed in himself.

Within seconds, the oarsman was pushing off into the swell, and they were at sea. The rower handed Wilde a pair of oars and indicated that he should sit on the bow bench, facing astern. With a huge effort, the two men pulled at their oars and drove the little boat through the crashing waves and back out into the Baltic. Soon they got a rhythm going, pulling hard against the incoming tide, stroke by stroke making headway into the darkness.

Wilde noted that Sunny was sitting with her arms around the child. Perhaps there was a spark of motherly instinct there after all.

*

The Harald was anchored a kilometre out to sea, all its lights extinguished. It took Wilde and the oarsman half an hour of back-breaking work to get there through surging waves and biting rain.

‘Oh, Tom, I am losing my stomach,’ Sunny said, and immediately turned aside and retched into the sea.