‘It’s not. Is it,’ I said like a teacher. I put my hand on his chest. A long, slow thump. Thunder, very far off. ‘Jim.’ He didn’t answer, his eyes shut. I touched his beard, got blood on his cheek. ‘Jim.’ My voice was small, lost in the darkness.

I stood up in a rush, kicking the knife away to the corner. The whisky, too. It rolled, an alarmingly loud sound, like a tower of bells being rung all at once.

‘Don’t go.’ Jim began to lift the arm on his lap before dropping it again. He sighed. ‘I’m coming with you.’ The words were waves overlapping.

And I realised that he wasn’t talking to me, not really.

I ran out barefoot into the bright, bright day, onto the gravel path and the grass, phone in my bloody hand and shorts in the other, breathing cool hill air.

Hoping.

Simple things were best.

Packing. Bed-making. A note saying Sorry placed in the desk drawer along with twenty quid, totally not enough to cover all that weed. Saving my work on a memory stick. Simple things.

‘Polly.’ Lottie was at the door of my room holding two brown bananas. Her glance was gently weathered, like it had been out in the rain too long. ‘There’s someone outside for you.’

Fraser was talking to Adam by the open car boot. He practically flinched when he saw me, a cowed-dog look better than Tyger could ever pull off.

Adam glanced at us both and disappeared inside with an unconvincing cough. Tyger stood firm.

I pulled my hoodie around me, an unnecessary reflex action from spending a month up here – it was actually quite hot this morning and the air felt thick enough to clot my throat.

Fraser stood at a right angle to me, his hands in his pockets. ‘Yeah. I’m …’

I imagined his face blooming with bruises, all coming up to the surface at different times, like spring filmed on fast forward.

‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘About the other night. I was just – having a laugh. I was a bit high. And pissed. Pissed off. I’m – yeah. I’m sorry.’

There wasn’t much to say. I nodded.

‘I heard about what happened,’ he said. Five words like soap bubbles, curved with light, filled with the world, disappearing.

I felt blank. If someone pressed their fingers into me, hard, they wouldn’t even leave a mark. Not for a second.

He was looking at me. ‘Yeah. Right. OK. So I’ll –’ he hiked his thumb over to his car.

Adam came out with our suitcases as Fraser’s car jerked away. His look carried a sliver of curiosity, Sherlocky, too polite to ask. He knew, too.

He opened the back passenger door. ‘Go on, critter.’ Tyger half hurdled, half long-jumped into the back seat. I climbed in, gathered him into my lap.

Lottie followed, full of end-of-holiday sighs and a nod for Adam, who turned back round and started the car.

I watched the roof be swallowed up by the palm trees, the loch recede. The double-greenness of everything.