‘. . . But that’s for the future. Today is about honouring Cory’s memory. About blessing his spirit and keeping in our hearts, the good times. He won’t be forgotten. And the surf community will make sure his family is loved. Supported. Protected.’ He looked at Mia. ‘Mia, that is our promise to you. You and the boys are not alone.’

Mia swallowed and nodded her thanks.

‘Cory, we love ya, man! Rest in peace, brother!’

A cheer went up, growing in volume and heft as people began splashing and scooping up water into the air in a form of salute. Goosebumps raced up Clover’s arms as she watched the cacophony.

Eddie stood and handed Taylor, who was sitting behind him, the urn he had kept safe by his feet. Taylor stared at it for several moments, then kissed it. ‘Love you, Dad,’ he sobbed. He passed it back to Hunter, who did the same.

Clover didn’t think she could bear it. These poor children, their final goodbye . . .

Mia patted Brady and he squirrelled off her lap, understanding it was his turn now. The urn was heavy, heavier than he might have expected, and he had to clutch it to his body to take the weight. He closed his eyes, swinging from side to side with it, like it was a teddy bear. ‘Come back, Daddy. We’ll be good.’

A cry escaped Mia and she reached over to him, stroking his hair back and kissing his face. ‘Daddy loved you so much, baby.’ Her voice was thick with tears. ‘You were his best boys. All of you. He lives in here now.’ And she tapped Brady’s chest, by his heart. ‘He’ll never leave you. He’ll always be with you.’

Clover turned away, not wanting the children to see her tears. She knew all about losing a father, but this wasn’t her tragedy. Who was she to be so upset? And yet . . . she was intricately woven into the tapestry of their family life now. She had lived with them, seen the truth of their situation behind closed doors. She knew how it felt when a family fell apart.

Mia took the urn and stood. Tears pooled in her eyes and she didn’t try to hide them as she stared out at the silent gathering. The crowd stared back at her in common understanding; they didn’t need her to speak. She just nodded slowly and they understood, the connection sparkling in the quietness, like a spiderweb catching the sunlight.

At the far end of the canoe, Eddie stood and began to sing a mournful Hawaiian lament. The circles of floating surfers seemed to draw even more tightly together as Mia unscrewed the lid and carefully, with slender, trembling arms, tipped her husband’s ashes into the sea. They slipped into the water, heavy and silent, as though returning to their rightful place. Not so much dust to dust as sand to the beach.