I go upstairs and fetch it, as well as some alcohol wipes from the first aid kid and some clothes for Liam so he can get dressed. The whole time I’m fighting a wave of fear of the man on the island and wondering why in god’s name he’s here.

When I come back downstairs, my arms full, I see Liam’s still sitting in the armchair staring at the fragment of angel wing. He startles when I walk towards him and quickly pulls on the T-shirt and jumper I hand him. I help him hop into some boxers and a pair of jogging bottoms.

‘I’m sure this must have something to do with one of your cases,’ I say, aware that I’m repeating myself.

He looks at me, puzzled. ‘What?’

‘Is there anyone who might want revenge on you? Someone who’s angry at you? Maybe someone you locked up?’

He shakes his head but avoids my eye. It makes me wonder if Liam has thought of something; if he does know who it is, but he’s just not telling me. It’s the angel. I think it’s triggered something in him, but he’s withholding the knowledge from me.

‘How are you doing?’ he asks me, trying to change the subject. ‘Are you OK?’

‘Fine,’ I reply

‘You’re shaking,’ he says.

‘I’m cold,’ I tell him. I don’t think I’ll ever feel warm again. I’m frozen through to my marrow. But it’s not just the cold making me shiver. I’m petrified. I nod and crouch down in front of him and sterilise the razor blade with the wipe. When I’m done, I look up. ‘Ready?’ I ask.

He grits his teeth and nods. I slice the blade into his foot; he lets out a roar of pain and I have to grasp his ankle with my spare hand to stop him from yanking it back. My time at the vet has trained me well enough to focus on what I’m doing while wrestling an anxious animal or one in pain so I tune him out, keep a firm grip, and manage to dig out the smaller splinters, placing them carefully in a tissue, but the bigger piece that broke off is stubborn and won’t be pried out with any amount of digging.

Liam is turning whiter and whiter as I probe with the tip of the razor’s edge. His hands clutch the arms of the chair and sweat beads on his brow. I scrape away skin and pause to mop up the blood. ‘It’s in too deep,’ I tell him with a sigh, finally giving up. ‘I can’t get it. You need to go to hospital to get that out. It’s impossible without a local anaesthetic and a magnifying glass.’

‘Do you see a hospital anywhere?’ he snaps.