There are no thoughts now, only pure instinct. In an instant he is reaching behind him for the large cushion on the chair, then he is upon her, pressing the soft down into her face. He feels her grow rigid with shock or perhaps fear and then begin to thrash. The sound of her choking makes him retch but still he carries on. He hears himself say, ‘Don’t make this last longer than it has to, Mother.’ When eventually she grows stiff again and then floppy and still, he removes the cushion. He cannot bear to look at her face to check if there is still breath coming from her lips. Instead he grabs a plump wrist and holds it, waiting for a pulse which, to his relief, never comes.

Replacing the cushion, he sits himself in the wing-back chair by the bed and, reaching for the supper tray, takes a few bites of a nondescript sandwich, washing it down with another swig of Macallan. He picks up the tray and stands to leave. At the door he does not turn but in a quiet voice says, ‘Goodbye, Amanda.’ Then he goes back to the nursing office and finds the care worker who came in not long before.

‘I’ve left her sound asleep,’ Cullen says. ‘She ate her supper. We shared a few whiskies.’ He passes over the tray.

‘Hopefully she’ll sleep through till morning now then,’ says the carer. On the room board a light begins to flash. ‘Oh, I have to go to this resident,’ she says and, turning and nodding, adds, ‘See you next time, Mr Cullen.’

From the home Cullen drives up to the Downs from where he can see both the bridge and the gorge on the other side, where Natasha Tillotson’s body was found. In his head he can hear his own words, the advice he’d given to Natasha as he’d driven her to her death. ‘You are ruined. You have brought this on yourself. You have nothing left to live for. There is only one honourable way out and it is beautiful in a way, to give yourself up to the air and to the water, a pure thing, one final act of love.’

There will be time to free himself. Before he does, there is an old score to settle.

Chapter 51

Nevis