The visitor rounded the corner and said, ‘You need a beer, mate?’

‘Too right I do.’

‘You got some?’

‘In the fridge.’

William Kelly returned with a stubby in each hand. He handed one to Vernon, in the stubby cooler Vernon had owned for years, then sat down in Penelope’s chair. He gave a knowing look.

‘What’s she got you doing then?’

‘Had to bury a dead pelican in the garden. Over there.’ He motioned with his head. ‘For fear of sharks.’

‘No sharks’d swim up here.’

‘I told her that.’

‘You look an unholy mess.’

‘I know.’

‘Mmm,’ Kelly said. He leaned forward, looked into the now knee-deep water, took a gulp of beer. ‘You take your boat out much?’ He gestured in the direction of Snake Island.

‘No. Not really. Not for a bit. Haven’t needed it.’

‘Haven’t needed the refuge?’

‘Nah, mate. Nothing that bad has happened to me for going on a year now. Life’s peachy.’

Kelly looked at the shed. ‘How about the little one behind there?’

‘With the oars?’ Vernon grunted. ‘Too old for that stupidity now.’

‘You’re right about that,’ Kelly said, and added, ‘I remember going out there with you when we were kids. What, fifty years ago?’

‘Took Pen out there once. She hated it. Never took her again.’

‘Don’t get why you love it so much.’

‘It’s just dependable, I suppose. Always there. And everybody else seems to hate going out there, makes it easier to be alone.’ He shifted, uncomfortable with where the conversation was heading. Then, ‘Been a while since you come out here.’

‘I know. I’m sorry about that. I might not look it but I feel like you look on the inside. Just a hell of a month, you know?’

‘Yeah?’

‘Yeah. A few funerals. Warren Bonner died. You remember him?’

‘I knew him.’

‘He served, too. You know that?’

‘Always thought he was an arsehole.’

‘Well. He was a bit.’

Vernon cleared his throat. The water now an inky black. The moon reflected. ‘You ever think about it?’

‘Dying?’

‘The war.’

‘I think about the war, sure. I think about dying more, though.’

Vernon remembered he’d thought of Weymouth earlier, but didn’t want to bring him up. Didn’t want to ever talk about him again, really. So he said, ‘What do you think about?’

‘I don’t know. What it’ll be like. Just, slipping away. How the Earth will function without me and how that’s strange, you know? Stuff like that.’

‘No doubts now you’re so old about God and all that?’

Kelly laughed. ‘Crummy line of work I got myself into if I doubted God.’

‘How many times we had this discussion now?’

‘Been having it a long time.’

‘Just circling the same spot out of habit like a dog getting to bed?’

Kelly shrugged. Didn’t offer a response.

Vernon said, ‘So what did you come out here for then?’

Kelly looked at the newly covered hole in the earth and then down at his lap. He said, ‘Saw your boy today.’