‘You know,’ he continues, ‘there’s a Maori proverb that my dad used to say to me, whenever I was feeling down about something. He would take me outside and make me look up at the sun, just like you’re doing here now, and he would say, Hurihia to aroaro ki te ra tukuna to atarangi kia taka ki muri i a koe – turn your face to the sun, and the shadows fall behind you.’

A small noise escapes from the back of my throat.

‘I always reckoned that it meant your sadness doesn’t always leave you, but that you can put it behind you. The sunshine represents the future, and all the pain of your past is in the shadows.’

Again, all I can do is nod.

‘Ah, shit.’ Kit notices the tears on my face. ‘Genie – I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you. I keep doing this, don’t I? I’m a flaming idiot.’

‘It’s OK,’ I mumble, forcing myself to laugh instead of sob. I know that he’s right, and that I should be trying my best to turn towards the sun, but there is so much shadow behind me. The space I’m in now is on the ledge between the two, and it feels precarious.

‘Hey,’ he says again, and this time he puts both arms around me and pulls me forwards a few steps until my cheek is on his chest. Kit is so tall that he can rest his chin on the top of my head, and I let myself relax into his embrace, feeling helpless as I weep more silent tears on to the front of his T-shirt.

‘You’re allowed to be sad,’ he says quietly, being careful not to alert Tui to my distress.

‘I know,’ I mutter. ‘I’m just so tired of it, that’s all. Sadness is so exhausting.’

‘You poor bloody thing,’ he soothes, stroking my hair. I can hear his heart beating, feel the warmth of his strong arms around my back, and the firmness of his stomach against my chest. I want to curl up inside his embrace. Hibernate here until the leaves darken and fall, until the peaks of Mount Aspiring are white with snow, and the plants down by the Dart River complete their cycle of decay and rot, and new buds spring up. I would be safe here, hidden away. I wouldn’t have to face Bonnie or see the deep lines that grief had dug around David’s eyes or the guilt in my own.

‘You know, I reckon that your mum would hate seeing you like this,’ Kit says then. ‘She would want you to be happy, right?’