‘He wouldn’t go. Then today, his belly was sore, and he started having chills and fevers.’ Her voice was tight. ‘He soiled himself in bed, Leon. It was a terrible mess. I had to clean him up. He was too sick to help.’

‘Oh, Mum. That’s awful.’ He imagined the smell as she walked in, imagined her getting a bucket of water and gently cleaning his sickly father. It was too much, after all she had borne.

‘Can you come, Leon? They’ve got him on a drip and they’re doing tests. They think he might have an infection. They have to find the right antibiotic.’

‘Okay, I’ll have a quick shower then I’ll be on my way.’

‘Can you bring Grandpa?’

Leon paused. ‘Is it that bad? Is he dying?’

‘It might help your father. Grandpa’s so strong.’

‘So positive, you mean.’

‘Yes, that too.’

‘All right. I’ll be there soon as I can.’

Leon rang ahead to warn Grandpa, and the old man was waiting in the foyer of the home when Leon arrived. He was dressed up in collar, tie and trilby, but he’d fallen asleep and was slouched in a chair, head tipped back, mouth open. He looked small and vulnerable, hollow-cheeked, lips caving in, barely alive. Leon wondered how much lifetime his grandfather had left. Normally Grandpa’s vibrant personality made him seem large, but now Leon could see his fragility. The ageing process was confronting.

Leon tapped the old man on the shoulder and watched him wake, eyes widening with surprise, lips smacking, a blast of bad breath. Leon forgave him for that—a blotch of toothpaste on his lapel showed he’d at least tried.

In the car, Grandpa talked while Leon drove. He spoke of Leon’s dad as a boy, how wild and cheeky Reg had been, always pushing boundaries, always getting into trouble. Reg had never really left the island except for a few years when he was at high school, and even then he’d caught the bus home every night, just as Leon had when he was a teenager. Reg had left school at fifteen and taken a job at a mill where he’d worked for twenty-something years until the accident.

Leon remembered his dad coming home each weekday evening, sweaty and with wood shavings stuck to his socks, fine grains of sawdust in his hair. Sometimes during the school holidays, Leon had been allowed to tag along to the mill. Reg had given him a pair of earmuffs and allowed him to wander around, so long as he didn’t get in the way. It was interesting to see how they carved up the logs. Leon used to like watching the dripper trickle water onto the saw so it wouldn’t overheat. He liked to watch the mounds of sawdust growing, the logs turning into timber for building houses. It seemed useful work.