Malcolm took his rubber gloves off and returned the cleaning things to the cupboard. “I’ve got some shopping to do today,” he said. “And Kathy called to say a shelf has come down, so I’ll fix that for her while I’m there.”

“Need any help?”

“No, it’s fine.”

Tom nodded and took his bowl to the table. He’d already swallowed a couple of mouthfuls before Malcolm added, “But company would be nice.”

They set off half an hour later. Tom stared out of the car window at the scenery and asked himself what he was feeling, but came up with nothing; he was numb, as though he’d used up all the energy he’d ever have making his confession to Malcolm. He found he didn’t mind the feeling. It was not peace, but the effect was similar.

When they reached the east side of the island, it began to drizzle.

“You remember how Nicky liked the rain?” Malcolm said unexpectedly.

Tom was relieved to find he did remember. “He’d try to get me to run outside with him as soon as it started raining. Strange kid.”

“You preferred the sun.”

“Of course. I was normal.”

“Nicky would come back in sopping wet, and your mother would despair.”

Tom looked out of the window again, at the grey sea stretching alongside them through a haze of rain. Beth had liked water too. She’d loved paddling in the sea while he or Nicky held her up. Tom felt sensation returning to him; his chest was hurting now, a slow, dull ache.

He said, “I’ve never understood why he let me live. Why he didn’t search for me. Nicky was his favourite and Beth was only a baby. Why let me live and not them?”

“I don’t know,” Malcolm said. “But I doubt it was mercy.”

“It’s never felt like it.” Out of the window, he watched the landscape change as they approached Orsaig, the hills subsiding and houses starting to appear. He said, “I don’t know how to live with it.”

Beside him, Malcolm was silent for a time. Eventually, as the harbour came into view, he said, “Me neither. Never did work it out.”

In the shop, Kathy greeted them cheerfully and then popped next door to the post office, leaving Tom to man the till—which he did not know how to use—while Malcolm set about fixing the shelf. Tom leaned on the counter and watched his uncle bend the warped bracket back into shape.

“I think I should go soon,” he said finally. “Back to the mainland.”

Malcolm paused fractionally in his work. “There’s no rush.”

“I know. But I can’t stay here forever.”

“I don’t see why not.”

Tom smiled. “I wouldn’t make much of a farmer, Malcolm. And anyway, I need to sort myself out. Can’t keep putting it off.”