‘Is Calum okay? Can I see him?’

‘Can you see him?’ Mary stands up, and enough of her comes back to square her shoulders and set her jaw. ‘No, Rob, you can’t see him.’ Her eyes still shine but her tears stop. ‘You killed a wee boy.’

I close my eyes as all that water fills my lungs again. And when I open them, Mary is gone and above me is only black dark sea.

I surface slowly. So slowly that at first I don’t notice, until I realise that I can breathe again. I can feel and see and hear again. So much pain and noise that I almost long for the weight of water. Lorne is all I see. A wee boy who hadn’t even started to live. I find that I can’t look at my hands, can’t look at my skin. Can’t look at any part of me at all.

‘Charlie.’ I can’t look at him either. I stare down at the food he’s brought me instead; a thermos of broth that I know Mary has made, and fresh white bread. ‘Please don’t tell the police. Please don’t let them take me away. I’m begging you. Please.’

And Charlie just holds his head in his hands as he shakes it.

‘I know what I did. I know no one can ever forgive me for it.’ I fight to hold back all that pain and noise, to make it wait at least until Charlie is gone. Until I’ve said what I want to say. ‘I need to be punished. But not like that. I can’t … I can’t do that, Charlie. Please.’ I think of a windowless, cavernous building, full of noise and blood and steel.

He looks down at me, eyes red. ‘Just tell us why, Robert. Why did you do it?’

‘You know why.’

But he goes on shaking his head. Pretending that he doesn’t. Pretending, too, that he doesn’t know why I’m really still here. Why he locks me in this cellar every night.

‘Tell us for Mary’s sake. She loves you. She wants what’s best for you.’

I stare at the tray, the soup, the bread until my vision blurs. ‘No. She loves Robert.’

When Charlie doesn’t reply, I stand on stiff legs. Walk over to the bottom of the stairs, look back at the Àird Èinis lighthouse. There is too much to comfort me down in this cellar; it’s a strong-hold instead of a prison. I look up at the bright pine walls of the blackhouse instead. The sunlight from above is warm against my skin, my hands. My hands. I’ve poisoned it all. Everything – everyone – I’ve ever loved. And I have to atone. We sacrifice so that we are not sacrificed. That is what I’ve done. I’ve killed – I’ve murdered – a wee boy who hadn’t even started to live because I wanted to kill Andrew. I’ve always wanted to kill Andrew.

‘Truth abides in thin places, Charlie. Eye for eye, burn for burn, wound for wound.’ I look up into the blackhouse and feel my lungs expand, fill up with so much air. ‘Life for life.’