Was he trying to manipulate Ahab in some way? Or was it just a childish prank? What could he hope to gain?

Uncomfortable thoughts entered his mind. Why did Forest know a conman’s trick like that in the first place? When would he have learned it?

He did his best not to stare at the boy, sitting placidly at that corner table. All this time Ahab had been trying to reach Forest, but in the end the boy had chosen the time and place to come to him. What was his motivation? He wanted to win Ahab’s trust, win his confidence, to convince him of . . . what? That he was magic? That Dempsey blood flowed through his veins?

One particular thought wrestled its way to the front of his mind.

What if he’s not Forest?

Impossible. How would he know all those things only Forest could know?

He worked the bar, silently pulling pints on autopilot while his mind raced through the possibilities. He’d have to be smart about how he did it, but he would need to test the boy.

Finally, Forest’s chowder was ready. Ahab took a seat, pretending to read the newspaper while Forest ate. He couldn’t eat himself, his mind was spinning too fast. What would it mean if this wasn’t Forest? What should he do if that was the case?

Stop it. You saw him underwater. He was a natural. He has to be Forest Dempsey. Snap out of this. Maybe he really believes he can talk to shells.

‘So . . . my dad?’ said Forest tentatively.

Ahab lowered the newspaper. ‘Yeah?’

Forest leaned forward. ‘What was he like?’

Ahab held his eyes, searching for something in them. ‘Surely you remember enough to know what he was like?’

‘I remember some . . .’

If this kid wasn’t the real Forest then he was a damn good actor.

So Ahab told Forest the stories. Stories of Jesse’s childhood. Of Jesse running amok at school, always in trouble with his teachers. Long days fishing, up early to beg Ahab to take him out. Girls who fell for him, swooned over his looks and charm, only to be left heartbroken.

He also used to hit you, Forest, thought Ahab. I didn’t find out until years later, but you and Alexandra were terrified of him. All of the Dempseys are bad dads, but he was a real bastard of a father. And I never did anything to stop him.

But that was never common knowledge. You’d only remember that if you were really Forest, wouldn’t you?

He searched Forest’s eyes for any recollection of his father’s abuse. The boy had been six when he disappeared – surely he couldn’t have repressed it completely.

‘I’ll show you some photos,’ he said eventually.

There was a barely perceptible pause before Forest said, ‘Sure.’