She opens her mouth to protest, to explain, to make the case for the covering up of her strangeness, but thinks better of it. Instead, she does as he suggests. The relief is instant and she stares at the shiny little discs of plastic in her palm, hesitating only a moment before flinging them into the fire. They hiss and flare, making Thistle start.

‘No more hiding,’ she says.

‘I’ll drink to that,’ says Dylan, clinking his glass against hers. ‘No more hiding!’

‘It … it’s just the way I’ve been for a long time. The way I deal with … this.’ She flaps a hand in a gesture that encompasses herself, head to toe.

‘If other people have a problem … well, let them handle it. You’re you. You’re…’

‘Please don’t say special.’

‘How about challenging?’

‘Sorry.’

‘Don’t be.’

‘It’s just that, well, I wouldn’t expect you to understand. What it’s like … to be looked at like you’re something … weird. Like you don’t fit.’

He raises his eyebrows at her and gives a pointed shake of his shaggy curls, making his hair fall into his green eyes, turning slightly to profile so that the slender straightness of his nose is unmissable, grinning broadly, his teeth startling against his dusky skin in the low light. ‘Yeah, right,’ he agrees with a sarcastic edge to his voice, ‘I have no idea what that might be like.’

Tilda blushes. ‘God, how crass of me. Sorry. No, I’m really sorry.’

‘Like I said, don’t be. Let’s just say we both know what it means to be outsiders.’

‘Professor Williams told me you were born in Barbados. Is that where your mother comes from?’

‘My father was a diver—I have him to thank for what I do—he met her when he was working on a wreck in the Caribbean. They got married over there then tried to live here, but she couldn’t take to it. Dad wanted me to have a British education. God knows why! So, they moved back home, and when I was eleven I came to live term time with Uncle Illtyd.’

‘You don’t look much like your uncle.’

‘That’s because he’s my uncle by marriage. My father was Greta’s brother, not his.’

‘Oh, I see. I just assumed … And do you call Barbados home?’

‘I do, or at least I did. My dad was killed in a diving accident when I was twenty-two. Mom wanted me to give it up but, well … when you find the thing you were meant to do…’ He drains his glass. ‘I come back here as often as I can. It’s been hard for Uncle Illtyd since Auntie Greta passed on. Fact is, I don’t know that I feel at home anywhere except under the water.’