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The kids are in the mess room eating two-minute noodles. They are vibrating, high on what happened. They tell me she saved us.

But I can’t think about that, I can’t go there, I have to be a different thing now, something with sharp edges and a solid center.

All five of us walk back up to the lighthouse. Dom and I don’t look at each other or talk. It will be as if the kiss never happened. A fever dream. A betrayal, certainly, but more than that a softening. A weakening I can’t afford.

He, Fen, and Orly carry armfuls of driftwood with which to make fire, and walk ahead to get stuck into the chores we’ve neglected over the last couple of days. Raff and I travel behind at a slower pace. Walking does not feel good—my body aches again, I am so sick of feeling like shit—but I’m more concerned about Raff’s arm and how it will get fixed.

“Pain?” I ask him.

“Four,” he replies, which has got to be a lie. How will he play the violin if his arm doesn’t heal properly? He must see my concern because he says, “I don’t think it’s broken,” showing me how he can wiggle his fingers. “Just a sprain.” Then, “Are you gonna talk to Dad about…?”

“The blood?” I say. “Yes. I have to, don’t I? Unless you want to tell me about it.”

He shakes his head quickly. “I don’t know anything. Just talk to him.” He pauses but I get the feeling he’s not finished. “Sorry I was such a prick the other night. When I said you wanted to seduce Dad.”

“Honestly that’s the last thing on my mind.” I try not to sound as guilty as I feel.

“Okay. Cool.” He scratches the back of his neck. “I really do need to get off this island.”

“We all do.”

“I keep getting this feeling like Dad wants to stay. Even after they come to get the seeds. He hasn’t said so, but…”

“What’s there to stay for?”

Raff doesn’t answer but he doesn’t need to: we both know what would keep Dom here.

“You’re an adult, Raff. It’s your decision.”

“I don’t know if I could leave him here. And if Dad stays, Orly stays.”

I shrug. “Look, at some point you have to choose your own life. We all separate from our parents.”

That sounds cold even to me. I don’t tell him it’s not his job to carry his family. It is his job, because he has decided it is. I understand this maybe better than anyone. I think of the things I decided to carry, and how I had to make myself strong enough to do so, and then I think of my mum again. She was very loving in the beginning, but grief severs things.

Raff is working through his own stuff. “You know when she was coming down on us?” he asks slowly. “I had this thought. That I didn’t mind.” He grimaces. “Do you think that means I want to die?”

I shake my head. “No, mate. I think it just means you’re brave.”

“I thought of Mum, too,” he says more softly. “And then it was funny, when I woke up and my arm was killing me, Dad was talking to me, and I wasn’t really sure what he was saying but the sound of his voice was like… home , or something. And I had this other thought. That it should have been him I thought of. That it’s not fair, is it. He’s the one who’s here, she hasn’t been here in years , but we’re all completely obsessed with her.”

I think about how she is here among us, how even I, who have never met her, feel her presence.

“That’s grief,” I say simply.

Raff nods. Looks away. “Yeah. Anyway. I just want him to know.” We glance sideways at each other and he adds, “I won’t leave him. I won’t leave any of them here.”

The thought comes with simple clarity, and it is the last thing I need.

I won’t be leaving any of them here either.

The old blocked-up fireplace hasn’t worked in decades, but we are all getting sick of feeling so constantly frozen; with reduced power for heating we need fire. This means using brooms to try to clear out the chimney. By the time Raff and I reach the lighthouse, Dom and Fen have their heads poked up, giving directions, and I realize Orly is inside it.

“Get him out of there,” I say, hurrying over.

“I’m good!” he shouts from within.

Dom looks at me like see .

“He’ll be breathing in years’ worth of soot and dust,” I snap. “Completely stuff his lungs. Get him out now.”

They pull him back down and the kid is covered head to toe in black soot. He laughs to see himself in the bathroom mirror, before being stood under the shower. The water runs black for a long while. When the worst is sluiced away we fill the bath. I listen for any coughing, but he seems okay.

Fen and Raff return to cleaning out the chimney while Dom and I sit beside Orly in the tub. Dom doesn’t look at me, and I think maybe he’s pissed off at me for telling him what to do, but then he rubs his face and says, “I messed up. I think I mess up all the time, only there’s not usually anyone here to point out what an idiot I am.”

I breathe out.

Orly reaches to stroke his dad’s hair, getting it wet. “You’re not an idiot, Dad,” he says cheerfully.

“You are,” I say. “But the kids are alive. You can’t have messed up too badly.”

I don’t really want to sit here and make him feel better about himself, so I leave them to wash. I spend a little time alone in my room, undressing and unraveling my bandages. They are filthy now and I’ve run out of fresh ones, but I don’t need them anymore. I think I’ve become too used to them, maybe even a little scared of not having them. Scaffolding to keep me upright. Gently I run my fingers over the grazes and cuts, doing an inventory. Most have scabbed over and don’t hurt anymore, but a couple of the deeper gashes are still red and tender. The one on my hip that Dom had to sew twice is particularly hard to look at, even since I cut the stitches out—it has always been the deepest wound. I don’t think it will ever fully heal.

I swallow antibiotics and sit naked on the bed. It’s cold, and I try to let that cold inside me.

I feel it then. Breath on the back of my neck. The sound of it in my ear.

“I can’t protect them from what they’ve done,” I tell her softly.

She grows and throbs and fills the room, faceless and breathing. But I’m too cold to let her frighten me. I dress as warmly as I can, pack my bag, and lift my walking stick.

We aren’t going that way, I promise.