“It’s cold,” Ava whispered.

Finn tucked the patchwork quilt tightly around her. “Is that better?”

“That’s lovely.” Ava closed her eyes and sighed.

Without pausing to roll up his jeans, Finn waded out into the water, dragging the raft after him. The waves jolted it from side to side and from the depths of her drugged trance, Ava stirred.

“Are we in the water?”

“Yes.”

She clutched at his arm in sudden terror. “Have you got your armbands on?”

That nearly broke him, but he swallowed hard and forced himself to keep his voice steady.

“I don’t need them any more,” he told her. “You taught me to swim. Remember?”

“Did I?”

“It took a long time. I was a slow learner. But I’m all right now.”

All around the flat body of the raft, hollowed-out dimples held tiny tea-lights in glass shelters. Finn took a plastic bag from his pocket and unwrapped a box of matches. One by one he lit the tea-lights, until Ava was surrounded by a flickering circle of tiny flames.

“I’ll miss you so much,” he said. “Save a spot for me in the bar, okay? Get a brilliant suntan and shag some unsuitable beach bum and go dog sledding in the Arctic Circle and climb mountains.” He scrubbed fiercely at his cheeks. “And I’ll see you soon, do you hear me? This is just another journey. And one day I’ll make it too.”

He kissed her. Her eyelids fluttered and her lips twitched.

“Just one more thing and then I’ll let you go.” He laughed a little. “This is like trying to get away from Grandma’s, remember? When we were little and she used to hang around the car after we’d all said goodbye, and Mum and Dad would get so angry and say she’d get herself run over one day. There’s so many other things – I can’t believe how long it’s going to be until I can talk to you again – anyway… ” Re-wrapping the matches carefully, he unzipped his jacket, took out a thick bundle of papers, and tucked the manuscript in beside her. “For the journey,” he whispered. Her breathing was so faint now he could hardly see the movement of her chest. “Okay, so, um – I guess it’s time.”

He pushed the raft away from him, out towards the current that would carry it away into the wide busy silence of the ocean. He watched as it drifted, slowly at first and then faster, watched until the deep chill crept up his legs and around his heart and his teeth chattered and he could hardly stand. For a moment longer he waited, as if perhaps he might follow her. Then he turned and dragged himself back through the water towards the shore.

Back on the sands, his knees crumpled and he shuddered all over. He lay on the sand with his eyes shut and waited.

At last, his legs were strong enough to carry him. In the doorway of the beach hut, he built a tiny pyre of firelighters and smooth driftwood. He took the matches from his pocket and struck one on the side of the box. He fed the blaze carefully and watched as it took hold. The wood had been well-seasoned before George worked it, and the flames licked eagerly at the brave blue paint, blistering it before turning it black and shrivelled, exposing the timber beneath before devouring that too. Finn stood with his back to the ocean and watched as the flames nuzzled at the roof and then tore it down, collapsing the whole shape and everything within it, consuming it all.