Natasha reaches into her pocket and places her phone on the table. Cullen picks it up and checks the off switch.

‘I know what this is,’ Natasha says, petulantly. ‘A fucking ambush.’

‘This is the best deal you’ll get. Do you hear?’

The girl says nothing.

‘You transfer to another university. We’ll send you on your way with a glowing reference. If you work hard, you’ll still be able to graduate.’ She opens her mouth to speak but he silences her with a glare. ‘Otherwise you will find your grades steadily decline and by the end of the year you will be forced out. No references.’

Natasha’s mouth is set in a thin line of defiance but her eyes are blurry. ‘You knew what you were getting into,’ he says. ‘You knew it wouldn’t last.’

A sob bubbles up from somewhere deep in the girl’s chest.

Cullen leans towards her and reaches for her chin, cupping it momentarily in his hand. ‘Use your head.’ The words bring an inner smile. Christ, as if that isn’t what she’s already been doing. ‘What I mean is,’ he says, correcting himself, ‘use your brain.’

‘You are a pig, you know that, Professor Cullen? You’re nothing, an oink, a pig.’

He smiles, amused. ‘Have you, I wonder, read Animal Farm? At school perhaps?’

She creases her brow, a puzzled expression on her face.

‘Oh you should, it’s a marvellous book. There’s a pig in the story by the name of Napoleon. Clever fellow. Has a way of getting what he wants.’

Chapter 33

Honor

Honor, who has been sanding the bulkhead, feels the weight distribution of the boat change as someone climbs on deck of the Halcyon Days.

‘Hey! Can I come down?’ Alex’s voice.

‘Of course.’ She had been hoping it might be Nevis. Removing her work gloves, she moves into the saloon and sees a pair of legs in jeans before Alex appears carrying a file in one hand and in the other a tray of plant cuttings.

She says, ‘You’re just in time for tea.’

‘Excellent.’ He puts the cuttings down on the table and slides onto the bench. ‘I brought you some geraniums. I always do some for the homeless encampment. People seem to appreciate them. Last year, we made some raised beds at the back, behind the bivvies, and grew courgettes and tomatoes. Council turned a blind eye. Anyway, I thought if you were going to be here for a couple of months, you might like a few. If you keep them inside, they’ll be flowering in a month.’

‘How kind of you,’ she says, reaching for the geraniums and fingering the velvety leaves between her fingers. Alex is kind, she’s noticed that. It’s rarer than it should be, kindness, compassion.

‘How are you getting on with the work?’