Arthur imagined Jack’s body at the bottom of the sea, clouded with mud and silt, entangled in seaweed. And then he remembered Mrs Frost’s body, like a dead mermaid on the sand. Her body had come back. But it was a fleeting thought because the shop was across the street and he couldn’t help but turn in the direction of the dark eyes of the windows. He glanced up and thought that he could make out a shadow behind the net in the parlour window upstairs. They were now walking along Beach Road and he felt as if his mother must be watching them as they walked. He swallowed and regained his voice.

‘But if they sink then why are we coming out here on our own? Wouldn’t we need to dredge or something?’ PC Blowers had some kind of rope with him but nothing mechanical.

‘Oh, I reckon he’ll have floated up by now. But he’ll not have gone far. They usually come in where they drown.’

‘How do you know where he drowned?’

‘I don’t,’ said Blowers, glancing at him, ‘just a hunch.’

Arthur didn’t respond. His heart was hurting, it was beating so fast. The workers mending the breach were having a tea break, brought out to them by the Red Cross, and had mittened hands clamped tightly round steaming mugs, facing away from the North Sea to protect themselves from the cutting north wind. They nodded at the two young men as they passed, noting the PC’s helmet and keeping a respectful distance. Blowers waved at them as if he was out on a day trip to the beach. Arthur kept his head down. Ahead of them there seemed only ruin and destruction. They came to the end of the road, the old Pinewoods caravan site down on their left, but where the Jubilee Café had stood there was nothing there.

Blowers handed him a pair of long boots, like anglers’ waders, and they spent a few fruitless minutes picking their way through the debris of broken chairs and tables that must have come from the café, or the caravans.

‘Thank God the caravan site was closed,’ said Blowers. Arthur murmured agreement. He had his eyes trained on the water, imagining at any moment he would see… But he wasn’t sure what he would see. If they found Jack, what would he look like? He could hear his own breathing very loudly in his ears and felt as if his body had dislocated itself from his brain because it was moving automatically forward, as if the pull of the water was irresistible and someone was leading him step by step through the churning brown liquid.

‘It was near here where your boat sank, weren’t it, Mr Silver?’

‘I don’t know,’ he said faintly. ‘It might have been near here. It was dark. I got lost.’