But there’s more than right or wrong, don’t you think? Life is not so … so neat as that.

He is not coming, of course. And you are not coming … Love.

No one is …

… But it is OK.

I’m just—

Chapter 16

THEY WALKED IN silence, all of them – at times – looking up to the extraordinary expanse of sky and all of them – at times – stumbling over the rocky ground, in muddy ditches, against the sharp gorse that encroached on the path leading to the tip of the peninsula.

Eva walked on the other side of the path to Piotr and Holly. She wanted the space around her, and she wanted the time to listen. She listened to the sounds she could hear in between her own steps, as her confidence built with every new beam from the lighthouse. There was the regular thud of Holly’s walking stick – usually a thump on rock but occasionally the gulp of it sinking into mud. She could hear the swish of Piotr’s jacket sleeves as he walked ahead of her – that was less regular as he strode forwards alone then caught himself and waited for Holly to catch up. She could hear him breathe, too, when he paused and waited, when he looked up at the constellations. Like he was breathing in the sky. And behind all of that there was the constant, distant, crash of the waves.

She’d read somewhere that the sound of water is soothing, for humans – that it makes us feel like we’re in a place where we could survive. She focused on the waves as she walked, the waves that were white and silver and loud, now, the loudest thing she could hear. Then the lighthouse appeared, its white stripes showing up in its beams of light, the contours of the land leading them out to where it stood, tall and thin, alone, the only thing stretching up from the flat featureless land.

They arrived at a gate.

Beyond the gate was an overgrown patch of grass and gorse that had once, as far as she could make out, been a garden. Through the garden was a low rectangular outbuilding, painted white and catching the starlight, the remnants of a small, broken window the brightest point on the structure. Beyond that, past a drystone wall, was the lighthouse.

Holly and Piotr were just standing, staring. Eva thought Holly was leaning on her walking stick, and wondered if she was out of breath. But Holly hadn’t complained, or slowed down, so it seemed patronising to ask if she was OK. Instead, Eva pushed on the gate – waist-high, wooden slats – and it opened easily, inwards. Almost too quickly, they were in front of the lighthouse itself. It towered over them.

Eva knocked first.

There was no answer.

She checked her phone – the night was dark but it wasn’t that late. If someone lived here, they wouldn’t be asleep yet.