‘She’s yours?’ Matty already knew it to be true. The curl of her lip, the same grey-brown hair as Matty.

‘She’s ours, but – she is. We had a surrogate. In Canada.’

The words seemed to float and bump up against each other, still not quite making sense.

‘We’ll go downstairs. I can tell you everything. If you’d like.’ He crouched down, better to try and catch Matty’s eye. ‘Would you like a proper drink?’

Irish single malt, the colour of honey. It burned, throat to stomach. Another gulp.

Franklin was standing in the doorway. ‘Were you watching us?’

‘What?’

‘Joe said you’d been with Sheanna before. Were you watching the house?’

‘No. I didn’t know you were here. I’ve been looking, but …’ How could it be explained, Brigid’s house, the van, coming past here on the bike. ‘I didn’t know – who she was.’ The constant song of the water, the strange pull of Sheanna.

Franklin looked over at Joe as if not quite convinced. ‘And so you weren’t with Sheanna? At the time?’

‘No,’ said Joe. ‘Sheanna – you’ll have to talk to her. She had one of her mad schemes. It’s that bloody book she keeps reading.’ He faced Matty. ‘If it wasn’t for you seeing her …’ He shook his head. ‘I can’t imagine. We’ve only Matty to thank,’ he said to Franklin.

‘OK,’ said Franklin, not seeming quite convinced. ‘Thank you.’

‘Have you really been looking for me?’ said Joe.

‘I’ve been looking all – I’ve been all over. Ros—’ Matty couldn’t finish.

Joe sat, unmoving. ‘Well,’ he said. ‘You weren’t far off.’

Franklin went to the kitchen to put some food on.

‘How’s your mamma?’ said Joe.

‘She’s dead.’

He froze. A glazed look of horror, before his fingers tentatively came up to his temple.

‘Killed herself. In June.’

‘Ah, Jesus.’

The radio was turned on in the kitchen, and immediately turned down.

‘God.’ His breathing sounded laboured. He looked up. ‘Matty.’

‘I wasn’t – I didn’t cry. I never cried.’

He was touching his forehead as if checking it was there, and there was something almost satisfying about seeing his shock. ‘Were you with her?’

‘No.’

‘I mean, living with her?’

A bitter exhalation. He really had no idea. About anything. ‘I left home when I was sixteen.’

One of the peat logs suddenly collapsed, half of it breaking off.

His face was ashen. ‘Is that why you decided to look for me?’

‘No.’ Matty drained the glass. ‘She told me you were dead. I mean, I got it into my head that you were, and I couldn’t get it out. It was the only explanation. And I asked Mamma, and she said that you were. Dead.’

He’d gone so still.