Now, with that particular sadness behind him, he could see that smashing up through the plaster board and turning the attic space into his own private floor had not only been good for him, giving him physical separation from the rest of the house, but it was also vital for his mental health. And not to mention the perfect distraction, as thoughts of his absent dad were buried under the hauling of lumber, the sawing of wood, the hammering of nails, the laying of the floor and the painting of walls. His anger was taken out on joists, lumps of metal and vigorously mixed buckets of plaster. When he’d woken after that first night in his new room and stood at this window, looking out through the gap between the church spire of St Michael’s and the tall houses of Fore Street, he could see the cove, the sea and the bend of Kellow Cottages, where Merrin lived. He felt then pretty much as he did now, relieved that no matter what turmoil might come along and rob him of decent sleep, the world outside his window was unchanged.

‘Tea, love.’ His mum spoke as she knocked and entered his room, the creak of the floor overhead the indicator that her son was awake.

‘Thanks.’ He took the mug into his palms, grateful.

‘How you feeling?’ She studied his face in the way that irritated him, made him feel like a child.

‘I’m fine.’

‘You don’t look fine.’ Nancy let her eyes crinkle empathetically. ‘You look sad, and that’s okay. When your heart hurts, it’s okay to say so. You don’t have to be the big man all the time.’

‘I don’t think I am a big man.’ He held her gaze, as if her words were accusations.

‘But that’s just it, Jarvis, you are. You have the biggest heart and the kindest nature of any man I know. I’m so proud of you. But it’s still okay to feel sad. It only makes you human, and your humanity is one of the things I admire most about you. You’re smashing. Don’t ever forget that. And’ – she took a breath, a clue that what came next might be more important than the usual small talk she liked to fill the air with – ‘when you give your heart to someone, not that I want you to be in a hurry to do that,’ she emphasised, ‘make sure you give it to someone worthy. Someone who thinks you’re as lovely and as special as I do. I think anything less would be a great shame.’

‘Thanks, Mum.’ He sipped his tea, feeling guilty that he had sniped.

‘Is there anything you want to talk about right now?’ she asked, turning on her heel, as if second-guessing his response.

‘Nope.’ He turned back to the view.