‘So it’s the inter-generational stuff that’s upsetting you?’

‘Yeah.’ He sighs. ‘I guess. It’s that, and it’s also the way that even if it wasn’t them, someone left those seals to die that slow death and there’s nothing to be done about it. There’s no consequences, you know. People just do shit like this and get away with it.’

‘It is against the law, though, isn’t it?’ Lucy asks. ‘Like, there are actual consequences for animal cruelty.’

‘They’re bullshit consequences, though, aren’t they?’ Jem says. ‘Like the guy that bludgeoned all those penguins to death and he only got a fine and a handful of days community service. It means nothing. And you’ve got to actually get caught in the first place. The ocean’s a big place. It’s not like the cops would be able to patrol it properly, even if they cared enough to put the manpower into it.’

‘Come here,’ Lucy says. She grabs his hand and draws him towards the stool. She sits him on it, then straddles his lap, loops her arms around his neck and looks up into his eyes, ready to listen some more.

‘Sometimes I just can’t see how things will get better,’ Jem murmurs. ‘Cunts raise new generations of cunts.’

‘Yeah,’ Lucy says sadly. ‘It’s the circle of life.’ And then she grins. ‘But think about how many centuries of the patriarchy humans have lived in, and how much has changed in the last fifty years, you know? Stuff can change and stuff is changing, and we’ve got to hope it’s for the better.’

‘Are you saying it’s the patriarchy’s fault that those seals were left for dead?’ Jem says, arching an eyebrow happily. This is it. This is what he wanted.

‘Aren’t you?’ Lucy smiles. ‘That sort of entitled and toxic masculinity you’re so worried about is a symptom of the patriarchy, after all.’

‘Damn straight, sister,’ Jem says, grinning. ‘Now excuse me while I go and burn my bra.’

Lucy’s smile becomes mischievous. ‘Do you want to?’ she asks.

‘What?’

‘Burn my bras? You know, in tribute to the seals?’

Jem laughs, but a little hesitantly. Maybe this isn’t what he wanted; maybe he doesn’t want this at all. He gets the feeling this will mean something more than a tribute to the seals. But, ‘Why not?’ he says, because what else can he say?

Lucy plants a kiss square on his lips, then slips off his lap. ‘Go get the fire started,’ she says. ‘I’ll get the lingerie and booze. We’ll make it a wake like no other.’

‘So this is it then?’ Jem asks. His heart is sinking in a way he knows it’s not allowed to as Lucy throws the last of the bras onto the fire. For a moment, it sits there like new: pale blue satin with lacy straps, framed by a shimmering bed of orange and red. And then the straps dissolve into black smoke, and the blue is tarnished a filthy grey, which becomes a soiled navy, and then fingers of red and orange crumple it into dust.