‘Hi, Mike,’ we called, and walked over to him.

‘What the hell are you doing?’ he asked.

‘It’s been a year,’ said Amy, ‘since we scattered Mum’s ashes here. We’re just sort of keeping it clean for her. Something to do.’

‘Right. That’s something,’ he agreed.

‘How’s the catch tonight?’ I asked.

‘I’ve had nothing yet, but might still. Lad down there picked up a decent codling.’

We looked to the lad down there. He was sitting on his stool with his head in his hands.

‘Doesn’t seem to have made him very happy,’ I said.

‘None of us lads out here are bursting with joy,’ said Mike. ‘At least not on the outside. Did I see there’s a Sold sign outside your mum’s?’

‘That’s why we’re here,’ said Amy. ‘Our last weekend. They’re moving in on Thursday.’

‘Right. I suppose that’s the last I’ll see of you, is it?’

‘I hope not,’ I said.

‘Me too,’ said Amy. ‘We’ll come back.’

‘Will you really? You say that, but.’

‘We will do. To remember Mum. And keep this bit clean for her. Once a year, anyway.’

The sun came out for a few seconds and lit his face before the cloud cast him in shadow again. ‘I can do that sometimes,’ he said. ‘When you’re away.’

‘That’s good of you,’ I said. ‘We’ll be here every year, on the anniversary, at least.’

‘I wonder if we should have cremated our Carl and scattered him out here. I’d have liked that. But Janine wouldn’t; it’s her who matters most. She likes being able to take flowers down, in the mornings, to the cemetery.’

Behind him his rod started to twitch. ‘I think you might have something,’ said Amy.

*

We watched him bring it in. He held the rod in a tight grip with his right thumb and reeled it in with his good left hand. Even in the grey light of the cloud cover, the fish, a little longer than my hand, flashed from yellow to silver.

‘What is it?’ asked Amy.

‘Whiting,’ said Mike, holding it against his chest while he reached down into its mouth to take the hook out.

‘Are you going to eat it?’

‘I could do. This one’s not much of a meal though. Do you want it?’

We didn’t.

‘Yeah,’ he said. ‘More hassle than it’s worth. Do you want to have a look at it before I let it go? Hold it tight, don’t let it thrash around or it’ll be too weak to go back in.’

Amy took the fish in her hands.

‘Have you hurt it?’

‘Nah.’

‘How do you know?’

‘I don’t. But I can take the hook out without damaging it, you see. You just thread it through. Here, why don’t you two let it go?’