I sent the letter with the Asda man, who promised to post it for me in the village. The postman doesn’t come any more, though I don’t know if that’s because he’s stopped making the journey or if there simply haven’t been any letters to make it for. It doesn’t really matter, though I suppose if you reply by post I might not receive the letter. But of course I wasn’t asking you to write to me, I was asking you to visit.

Perhaps I should have made it sound more beautiful. It is beautiful here, as well as brutal. You’ll see. It is the kind of landscape that inspires. We’ll walk out towards Rockfield, perhaps, scramble over the rocks and search for fossilised remains of giant coral and ammonites …

My own coral reefs are surviving, but they need so much care they will never be truly independent. I keep the conditions as close to perfect as I can for my indigo hamlets, and for the exquisite corals themselves. The tanks are maintained at 1.023–1.025 specific gravity, which you’ll need to know if you ever want to keep a reef tank yourself. Calcium at 425 ppm and magnesium at 1300. I can teach you, if you like. The corals need the constant challenge of turbulent water, did you know that? Wonderful, from something so delicate. Their requirements are contrary to their appearance.

It feels so very important that I talk to you now. There was so much I couldn’t say in the letter, since I don’t know really where it will go or what will happen to it. The Asda man is a decent person, I think, but after he posts it …

Well, I hope you will come. I’ve been thinking about you all day today, and for many of the days before that.

Hold on a minute. I’ll be right back.

… I just went to put more logs on the fire there – it’s been on since the morning so the embers are glowing, but the cold really is bitter now. I can feel it in the tops of my feet, spreading through my ankles and shins, curling up to settle around my knees. If you come soon you will be arriving in midwinter, so perhaps we’ll not go to the beach. I’m sorry about that. I’m sorry about a lot of things.

I hope the journey isn’t too treacherous.

I hope you can forgive me.

Well.

I think I should eat something.

Chapter 3

EVA WOKE WITH the sun in her eyes and the curtains wide. The chill was noticeable through the blankets and sheets she’d pulled up to her mouth in the night.