And Verity must be there. She’d be mad with worry for the horses. He wanted to go – the thought of her out there in that isolated farm, the sea raging all around – but his conscience tugged at him.

‘Yes, we should. But my mother’s in the shop, she’ll need me.’

They were outside Thurgood’s darkened shop window, shouting above the slap slap of the sign. Jack came up close to him. He had his hand on Arthur’s arm.

‘Is your apartment above the shop?’

‘Yes, but—’

‘Then she’ll be fine. Come on, they need us.’

He thought of his mother alone and bitter with him for being out in it. ‘No, I have to. She’s my mother.’

‘All right. I’ll go on my own.’

‘Don’t be an idiot, Jack. You can’t.’ He couldn’t let Jack do this, play the hero. It couldn’t be him to save her. ‘Come with me, I know where we can get a boat.’

They splashed down to the quay. The water was sweeping over the quay wall and it was slow work wading even the few yards to the shop. Clouds covered the moon and his bike light provided the only light, illuminating the patch of water in front of them. The shop window was dark and for a second he thought his mother was dead, drowned, saving her livelihood. The image of a drowned woman could only remind him of the mother he’d lost. In a cold rush of nausea and panic, he heaved himself at the door. Jack was next to him, his face taut with strain. Together, they edged the door open with their shoulders and found her, up to her waist in swirling water in her hair net and bedcoat, arms full of white bags of sugar and flour.

‘Where have you been?’ she said, her voice strangled and sour.

‘Deliveries,’ he said, staring at her stricken form. ‘Sorry. I’m here now.’

‘Well, help me then. Who’s this?’ She peered at Jack, standing next to him.

Her question propelled him forward and he half put an arm around her. ‘This is Jack. From the American base. He’s come to help. But we can’t stay long, Mother, we just need to get you to safety.’

‘The stock, Arthur. Just get the stock.’

He sighed. It was impossible. They took as much as they could but they soon saw it was hopeless. The water was rising fast and soon they wouldn’t be able to wade to get a boat, to row to the farm. The harvest would already be ruined by the salt, the land leached of life for many years; there was nothing anyone could do about that now. But he imagined Peter trying to save the livestock and Verity rescuing her beloved Gyps. It knotted his stomach in pain at the thought of her out there in this storm.