Finally, they reached the coastline and descended from the cliffs, coming to empty stretches of beach. The sand was flat and wet, a faint sheen across it from the weak afternoon light. Dark rocks jutted out into the Atlantic, with the hunched outlines of other islands just visible through the mist: Mull to the north and Jura to the east. Way out west, across thousands of miles of empty sea, Canada. On a couple of rocks within sight of land were gannet colonies, and, on a good day, basking on the larger, flatter rocks near the shore, seals. As far as Tom could see, there were none today.

“Haven’t been back here for a while,” Malcolm said. “Didn’t see any seals last time either. Might be that they’ve moved on.”

Tom looked at the empty rocks and thought that finding seals had never been the point—not for him and Nicky. It had been an extra triumph to return home with, and their mother always seemed to think they were very clever if they did see the seals. But if they had to reply to her, “No, we didn’t see any today,” they might feign disappointment—perhaps to themselves, too—but it would not really be a blow.

No, the real point had been the rocks themselves. Tom studied them now, the black rocks biting into the cliffs and stretching out into the sea. They were slippery and treacherous, built up of many slanting layers and jagged edges. He and Nicky had loved to scramble over them, climbing up towards the clifftops or racing each other along them where two parallel outcrops rode out into the sea. Tommy, although younger, had always known he had the advantage here. Both he and Nicky were confident on the rocks, quick and sure-footed, using their hands only when balance was especially challenging or underfoot was too slippery. They each had the fearlessness of childhood and a keen instinct for where to put their feet and where to avoid, even when moving at speed. But Tommy was the faster of the two, and the rocks seemed to be his natural element, so that he was swifter and more graceful on the jagged rocks than he was on flat, dry land. Sometimes he had to stop and wait for Nicky to catch up with him.

Tom turned his eyes from the rocks to look at Malcolm.

“Did you and my father play together much as children?” he asked, and saw that look of fear cross Malcolm’s face, the one he always seemed to get when Tom’s father was mentioned. For a moment, it gave Tom a savage pleasure. If I have to live with it, then so should you. But of course Malcolm did live with it.