‘It’s probably been walking for decades,’ says George, taking a sip from his drink. ‘In search of other tortoises.’

‘I doubt it will find any, but who knows?’

‘Why did you bring it up here?’ asks Beverley. ‘Speaking as a mother, shouldn’t you have just let it be?’

Nelson shrugs. He’d been strolling along the beach, which he does every day, wearing what he liked to think of as his Baywatch uniform, although he’d never confess that to anyone, when he saw the poor unfortunate creature standing on its own and felt a sudden urge to befriend it.

‘You should put it back,’ says Beverley. ‘Let it go where it wants.’

‘I thought I might keep it. I could name him Yaroslav the Wise, after the great eleventh-century Ukrainian prince.’

‘Yes, we all know who Yaroslav the Wise was,’ says George. ‘We’re not complete ignoramuses.’

‘No, it’s a bad idea,’ says Beverley. ‘They’re not meant to be kept as pets anyway. And we don’t have anything to feed it.’

‘The village shop doesn’t even sell After Eights,’ adds George. ‘You’re lucky to get a Mars bar most days.’

‘I suppose,’ says Nelson, placing the creature on the ground, where it turns slowly with a disgruntled sound and begins the process of returning whence it has come, a walk that will inevitably take many months, if not years. He watches it as it moves away and envies it a little. A life of solitude does not seem like such a bad thing, and he’s enjoying living in this part of Scotland, with no particular plans to return to the real world. Shane broke up with him when he realized that almost everything Nelson had said to him during their brief romance had been a lie, and he’d been forced to end his relationship with his therapist, Dr Gosebourne, when he learned that she’d been conducting an affair with his father, which had almost resulted in another sibling. In his sorrow, he had retreated into the arms of his parents, who, most unexpectedly, had embraced him and were now doing all they could to make him whole again. He’d never really thought about them in these terms before but, since their arrival in Scoraig, he’s grown to realize how deeply he loves them. Sitting down on one of the veranda’s steps now, George reaches out a hand and lets it rest on his son’s shoulder for a few moments, and he remembers what it was like to be a child, when there were just the three of them. They had been very happy days, and somehow, unexpectedly, they seem to be returning.