Mackerel entered through the back door. He could hear Big Mane playing Xbox deeper in the house.

‘I’m home,’ shouted Mack.

‘You heard about the weather?’ shouted Big Mane.

‘Yeah,’ Mack called back. ‘Doesn’t matter, though.’

‘Oi, I know that’s bullshit,’ Big Mane called back. ‘But I’ll have another day’s work for you soon, I promise.’

‘Thanks, bro,’ he called, stepping into his own room, tidy and small.

‘Thanks, bro,’ he repeated, softer.

He would be forever grateful to Big Mane, his best friend since primary school. For putting him up, for posting his bail, for giving him his own room . . . Sure, it was cramped and falling apart. The bunk bed he slept on was there to be used by Big Mane’s nephews when they visited, and it creaked as he tossed and turned every night. But it was safe and clean and quiet.

He kept his areas of the house as spotless as he could, and tried to make it up to Big Mane by doing the laundry, cooking, cleaning, the lawns – far more than his fair share around the house. Sure, the bathroom could do with a better scrub, and the vacuum had been broken for a while. And Mack wasn’t great at cooking anything other than steak, veggies and fish, and Big Mane ordered pizza four nights out of seven . . .

Be positive. You have to be positive.

He lay on his bed, looked up at the underside of the bunk above.

He wiped bleary eyes and forced another smile onto his face.

When I was in prison, I was in control. I was like a caged dog, but I had everything I wanted. Everyone respected me, I was rich . . .

Now I’m still like a caged dog, but I’ve got fuck-all to show for it.

His smile was so tight it hurt. A single slow tear rolled down from the corner of his eye.

I’m trying. Can anybody see that I’m trying?

Big Mane’s footsteps rumbled down the corridor, and his big frame burst into the room without knocking. He had the weathered face of a fisherman, but it was flushed with excitement in a way Mack had never seen. His phone was in his hand.

‘Mate! You’re not gonna believe it. They’ve found your nephew! They found Forest!’

CHAPTER 3

AHAB

Ahab sat on the balcony of his private attic suite, above his inn, The Mermaid’s Darling. The Black Wind howled up from the beach and set the whole building to creaking, the sky now dense with low rippled cloud. It ruffled his beard, damp on his cheeks. Out here, a man could really feel the brunt of it, looking out over the white-tipped waters of Pirates Bay, the changeable ocean, the surface dotted with red buoys like berries, which would soon disappear below crosshatch waves.