I move from the bench and walk out onto the clifftop terrace that looks out over the sea. I never did like heights. I place my hand on the rocks and move forward until my hips are pressed against the rocky wall, the jagged stone edges digging into me. I feel the cold stone against my fingers as I grip and lean forwards, stepping on one of the black box lights that illuminate the walls at night. I’m feeling dizzy as I look at the slimy green rocks below. The tide is out but in my mind I see the water crashing against the side of the cliff, a memory clawing to the surface. My mouth feels dry and I find myself leaning further over the side, a part of me wanting to hurtle myself to the ground below to stop this madness. I think about the dog tags and know that I am running out of ways to avoid the places I need to revisit the most, scared of who I may encounter there. The more I find out, the more I want to run again.

I snap back to the present when I hear a woman cry out and feel a hand on my dress, pulling me backwards. I let go of the wall and tumble backwards, relieved when my bottom hits the paved path.

‘Are you all right, love?’ she says to me, her wide eyes and flushed cheeks far too close to me. ‘You looked like you was going over.’

‘I was just looking at the waves,’ I say unconvincingly, knowing that my face is ashen.

‘Let me help you get to a bench or something.’