I looked out to sea. There was silver light on the surface of the water and a small breeze brought in the smell of fish being barbecued somewhere. A boat slid from behind rocks. The fisherman was silhouetted against the sky which was lighter than the sea. He poled fast across my field of vision. Black and white; black and white. His arms bent and lifted, bent and lifted as he poled from right to left and into darkness.

My heart beat wildly in my chest. My baby kicked hard and I gave a small cry for at that moment I caught out of the corner of my eye the shadow of a man, slightly to my left, superimposed, for a second in line with the fisherman…moving fast, running past me…and then I heard the sound of a door opening and closing…

Fleur called, ‘Are you all right, Nik?’ She had raised her head and was looking out of the open door towards me. I turned and something in my face must have alarmed her for she scraped her chair back and came out to me.

‘What is it, Nik? What is it?’

I was suddenly cold on this warm night. So cold. I shivered and the goose bumps stood out on my arms, and I could not speak and just stared at Fleur, feeling the blood drain from my face.

Fleur caught my fear, bent to me, took my hands in hers. ‘Nik, what is it? Darling…darling, are you in pain? Is it the baby?’

I shook my head. Took my hands from hers and curled them round my stomach as if to protect the life there.

‘No,’ I whispered. And I looked at her without hope for I knew now that I couldn’t escape what was locked in my head. Saffie wasn’t going to let me. There was something I had to act out. There was something I had to remember. I was so afraid that my teeth began to chatter and my knees trembled and then my whole body began to shake and my mother wrapped herself around me as if to protect and warm me.

‘Not the baby,’ I managed. ‘Not the baby, Mum. It’s something inside my head.’

Fleur lifted her head and her eyes were as dark and frightened as mine.

THIRTY-ONE

Fleur put me to bed. She made more tea and brought me supper on a tray, which I played with. I grew warmer and the fear left me as quickly as it had come. Fleur sat on a chair with her book on her knee and I began to feel like a child again. It was as if Fleur and I were in a bubble together, convalescing, our lives revolving around the comfort of bed as if it was an island no one else could reach. She didn’t press me to talk and I couldn’t have explained anyway.

She had put an exercise book and a pen on my bedside table in case I wanted to write anything down. I realised that something in Fleur dreaded but needed to know what happened that afternoon and why.