He had pulled his hood down when the sun came out, and now he took off his hat. He met her gaze, then turned his head away. He looked at his knees, but he knew she was simply staring at him and wasn’t going to stop. It was warm, and his coat was steaming. The rock was a soft grey, and tiny flowers had taken root in the fissures. The clouds were rolling back in around them, of course, but at that moment you could see for miles, and the hills and peaks interlocked so naturally. He could see downwards, too, and on his right the land fell away in a series of dramatic steps, like cliffs. You could see the caverns of despair, and he smiled as he re-remembered his poem, aged eleven, and the A grade he’d been so proud of. Come with me, went the first line:

Come with me, to the caverns of despair.

They boil in tears and freezing air.

You will cross them, if you dare:

The icy caverns of despair.

He had remembered the whole verse, and he closed his eyes with embarrassment.

Maria said, ‘Why do you say you had nowhere to go?’

‘Because it’s true.’

‘You have a home, though.’

‘I do.’

‘You have family.’

‘Not… really. Not as such. I have a brother, but I don’t see much of him. And—’

‘You have a job? Or are you retired?’

‘I am… I’m kind of without work at the moment.’

‘But you have money.’

‘No.’

‘Nothing?’

‘I do have some. But not very much, and… Actually, I don’t have much at all.’

‘So why are you here? Sorry. But I’m more confused than ever.’

Michael laughed, unable to meet her gaze.

‘I’m trying to explain it,’ he said. ‘I’m not sure I’m going to find it very easy, but what I told you was the truth. I just… didn’t know what to do.’

‘What is the matter with you?’

She said it very clearly.

‘Are you sick?’

‘No.’

‘So tell me. What is the matter?’

She was sitting close, not touching him but looking at his face. She didn’t seem frightened, or even worried – or not for herself. She had pulled her own hood down and loosened her coat. He glanced up and saw a black jersey, and again got the impression that she was small but very strong. His eyes drifted to his knees again, but she was waiting for an answer. He tried to find the words but they weren’t there – and he felt his throat tighten. He blinked and laughed, and still she didn’t speak. All he could hear was the wind again, finding its way round the rocks.

He said, ‘When I was a boy…’

And he stopped.

‘What?’ she said.