‘Just updating the Halloween Beach Party group.’

‘Really?’

‘It’s a video I shot earlier. Probably deserves a wider audience.’

‘Shit, Parks.’

‘Yup,’ Will says, a certain weakness in his thumb as he hits the upload button. He shoves the phone away, no desire to see how it’s received.

They begin their walk back round the cove. ‘Hear that?’ Alfie says.

‘What?’

‘Silence.’

The music has stopped. Seconds later, the coloured columns of light that beckoned them in like a homing beacon are shut off.

‘Looks like I’ve made my last sale,’ Alfie says with a laugh.

‘Sorry about that.’

They walk without speaking for a couple of minutes, just the full moon over the sea now and the rhythmic crunch of their feet. And, in the very distance, raised voices.

‘All kicking off,’ laughs Alfie.

‘Fuck him,’ Will says.

‘Fuck him indeed.’

Alfie is suddenly distracted, leaping across the stones like a gymnast. ‘No way,’ he calls out gleefully, studying the inside of a small boat perched at the top of the beach.

‘What’s up?’

‘Thought I saw something twinkling.’

‘What is it?’

‘Keys, Parks. One of these rich bastards has left the keys in it.’

‘You’re kidding.’

‘What’s that old expression? A fool and his boat are soon parted?’

‘Pretty sure that’s not how it goes. What the hell are you doing?’

‘Where’s your sense of adventure, Parks?’

‘You cannot be serious.’

We’re so close to each other right now.

Almost touching.

And you’re coming closer. We’re just minutes apart.

At last.

At Sea

The outboard howls as they clear the bay. A stripe of foaming water stretches out behind them. No one interfered as they manhandled the craft down the beach, although both of them are now soaked up to the thighs after scrambling aboard in a hurry. In open water now, Alfie keeps the throttle nailed, piloting the boat with unexpected proficiency.

‘It’s called a RIB,’ Alfie shouts over the din, ‘this type of speedboat.’

The whipping wind and salty spray leave Will short of breath and dry in the mouth. ‘Fascinating.’

‘Almost impossible to sink.’

‘Like the Titanic.’

‘Yup. Exactly like that.’

It’s not the safety of the vessel nor Alfie’s apparent expertise that comforts Will right now. It’s the confidence that if he shouldn’t have involved himself in the borrowing of this boat, he’d have been forewarned.

Alfie shuts down the outboard. They bob gently on the inky water. Currents slap and thud against the boat’s inflatable sides.

‘How cool is this?’ he says.

‘It’s nuts. I can barely see land.’ There’s a distant sparkle of orange light here and there on the coastline, but not nearly enough to navigate by.

‘We’ll be fine, cuz.’ Alfie begins the process of rolling a massive joint, sticking two papers together at a right angle. ‘Smooth the comedown,’ he says. ‘We’re both grinding our teeth here.’