Up close, the cottage was even more of a wreck than she’d thought. The windows were boarded, the door rotten in the corners, with only a few flakes of paint left on its surface. It was clear to Ruby that it was abandoned, had been for years. She screwed her eyes shut against the wind that was causing tears to sting her face, and leaned close to the wall, hoping for a little shelter, finding none; the wind whipped the house on all four sides. It was a mystery as to why it had been built. No one could live here. No one would want to. She went to the door and knocked, not expecting a response. Sure enough, all she could hear was the crashing of the sea, the whistling of the wind. Then she kicked the door, feeling the planks give way a little against the toe of her boot. Finally, she tried the doorknob, and it turned.

They stumbled into the cottage, grateful to get out of the weather. The only furniture in the single room was a rickety table pushed up against a wall. On the table, a large and beautiful conch shell, much bigger than any she’d seen before; twice the size of the one that had been in the bathroom at Gregor’s. The table on which it stood was thick with dust, but the shell itself was spotless. Something shifted in Ruby and she let out a sob, steadied herself against the damp stone wall. She realized that until she saw the conch, part of her hadn’t believed it was real.

“It dark, don’t like it,” said Leonie.

“Don’t worry, only a minute more,” said Ruby. She took the carved white comb from her zipped pocket and placed it inside the conch shell. It made a small, musical clanging sound as it slipped out of view, into the pinkish interior. She stood there, breathing, wondering if this was really going to work; if someone from Constance’s family really came and checked the conch every day, the way Constance had described when they were planning how to meet up again. The family had no phones, no other way of communicating.

“We’ve people on the big island,” Constance had said. “Some of our children, cousins who weren’t born in the skin, who can’t live where we do. Like you, my lovely.” She’d kissed Leonie on the head as she slept in her mother’s arms. “When the comb’s in the shell, we come across to the beach at Seal Bay. It’s a message. This one, they’ll recognize. I carved it myself.”

“Wanna get down, Mamma Bee,” said Leonie, wriggling and kicking. Instinctively, Ruby started to bounce on her heels and sing. Ionn da, ionn do …