‘Sorry,’ he said, and it was aloud this time, although no one heard. An owl hooted. He wanted to kick the stupid headstone for its unresponsiveness. He wanted to say, You knew, to his mother, you knew and you didn’t help me. But she couldn’t help herself, let alone him. Indulged by her, he’d been naïve and was punished for it. Gresham’s had a liberal reputation yet it also had the Honour System. All the students at the school had to sign an oath swearing ‘Always to avoid impurity’. And if you didn’t own up to your own impure thoughts or actions, other boys were encouraged to report on you. It was a licence to duplicity, to spying, to betrayal. It was no surprise to him that it had produced men like Maclean. But unlike most of the others, Peter hadn’t been adept in the arts of secrecy, and had not learned quickly enough. He remembered the day that they’d sent him home from school after the fit he’d had, the fight with the boy. Someone (a nasty, pretty boy) had called him a fairy and Peter had punched him hard in the face. But in the Headmaster’s office, there had been Farthing, chewing on his nails, telling them that Peter was a queer and that he’d seduced him. Peter remembered Mother (not Father, he was ever grateful for that) coming to collect him in the Jag, and she’d held his hand in the car while he cried and she hadn’t told him to stop. She’d lied to Father for him so he still didn’t know that he’d been expelled for sodomy (that word made him flinch), but his father had dismissed him years ago anyway. But he’d wanted, needed more and she’d not been there. It was never talked of again.

He’d found her once wandering on the beach. It was autumn and soon the cows would be brought into the cowshed but they were still grazing. He and the boy from the village who’d been helping with the cows had milked them and brought them back to the grazing field from the cowshed, their bulky forms grey and shadowy in the pre-dawn. A thin mist held to the ground and curled around their legs, making them seem as if they were half submerged in a sea of mist. He reached up a hand to pat the last heifer on the rump and turn back up the slight incline to the house. But when he did, a ghostly form appeared in the distance. Someone was walking along the beach. No one walked here, it was too remote for dog-walkers. He knew it was Mother by the slightness of the figure.