She didn’t say she was sorry, and Ben was glad. He hated it when people said they were sorry, as if that should somehow make things better. It was rotten luck that Nathan had been killed, when he wasn’t even fighting, couldn’t fight because of his leg. Rotten luck was exactly the right response.

“That’s why I live here on my own,” he said. “I’m just waiting for my brother to come back. He’s been at the war too.”

It was the first time he had said this out loud to anyone other than Mercy. He hoped it sounded convincing.

“What about your uncle and aunt?” he asked, to change the subject. “Will they let you keep Federico?”

“They can’t stop me,” said Lotti, proudly raising her chin. “It’s my house, after all.”

Even to her own ears it didn’t sound convincing. Lotti glanced at her wristwatch. Her dinner was served in the kitchen at seven o’clock sharp, and Aunt Vera hated it when she was late. Today of all days it made sense not to annoy her.

“I have to go,” she said regretfully. “Come along, Federico! You can walk a bit, now that you’ve eaten. You’re much heavier than you look. Ben, would you mind awfully checking again that Malachy Campbell isn’t lurking?”

The coast was clear. Dogs and children trooped out of the cabin onto the rear deck.

It was approaching the time of day Nathan had loved best, when mist hovered over the water and the sun’s sinking rays touched the dirty canal with gold. Ben felt a quiet glow of pride as Lotti caught her breath.

“It’s even better from the roof,” he offered.

He stepped onto the storage box and hoisted himself lightly onto the roof, then turned and held out his hand. Lotti glanced at her wristwatch, then climbed after him.

“Oh!” she cried. “Oh, you’re right.”

The sun sank, the shadows lengthened, the gold of the water deepened. Ben and Lotti sat with the dogs between them and forgot about aunts and being late and wars and rotten luck.

It never failed, this magic of the world seen from the roof of the boat.

“When I was little, we used to go on holiday to my grandmother’s house in France,” said Lotti at last. “Papa kept a little rowing boat in the boathouse by the river. I always thought, when we went out in it, how different everything looks from the water. Like anything is possible, you know? Like you’re completely free to go anywhere you want. Is that what it’s like living on the Sparrowhawk?”

“Yes,” said Ben. “That’s exactly what it’s like. Or it was, when Sam and Nathan were alive.”

“Do you know how to drive her?”

“I do, actually.” Ben blushed under Lotti’s admiring gaze.