‘Yeah I screw it up too. Sometimes on purpose. Sometimes not.’

Rhodri popped into her mind. She’d met him at the train station. Their train had been delayed and they had both gone to sit on the same spot on a bench. They’d laughed, he’d offered the place to her and got them coffees for the wait and, when the train finally appeared, they’d chatted and flirted on the train ride. Numbers had been exchanged.

And she’d ignored every one of his calls.

‘What did you see?’ Thea changed the subject. ‘When you hallucinated?’

Ethan sighed and rolled the jam lid on its edge with one finger.

‘Mistakes I made.’

‘When you were in the army?’

‘I don’t talk about it much because, well, I don’t need to – I relive it most nights in my nightmares.’ He rubbed at a spot on the carpet tile. ‘There was a hostage situation on one of my postings and … well, decisions had to be made quickly. Not the right decisions, it turned out. Not the right decisions at all. It’s when it’s kids – that’s what hits you hardest, that’s what you can’t forget …’

At night. On your own. Sleepless.

‘It was pretty much this, the trial, or prison. I mean, not straight away, but I just wasn’t thinking straight half the time and that’s where I’d have ended up, eventually. Short fuse.’ He laughed bitterly. ‘No fuse, more like. In hindsight, prison would probably have been the smarter choice, wouldn’t it?’

If she had been someone who was used to hugging other people, Thea might have tried giving Ethan a hug then. He looked like he needed it. Rosie would have done it, she thought, in that easy way she had, and then she’d have made them all laugh by producing chocolate from her shoe, or something. Ethan hung his head.

‘Max?’ Moses woke up, his free hand smoothing the spot on his temple where Thea knew a disc had once been, the skin dented and scarred.

Ethan and Thea generally ignored him. His brain was poorly set jelly in a trifle and it was impossible to keep track of what he was talking about.

‘Where am I?’ There was something different to his voice this time, something sharper. Thea glanced at him. He leant forward in the chair, peering at them both intently. He smelled: a sour, musty funk and Thea could see, where he was gripping the arms of his chair, that his fingernails were edged in black.

‘St Dunstan’s Island. The Sleep Centre,’ Thea replied, unable to take her eyes from his. They were so focused on her.

‘She sold it then.’ He sighed. ‘I guess I didn’t leave her much choice. Where’s Max?’

Ethan shook his head at Thea, but she answered anyway.