She got to the spot and stopped, just like every day before. Except this wasn’t the same, Ellie felt different. She thought about Sam, here on the bridge yesterday, almost catatonic at her house, nervous and distraught later, then finally sleeping below deck on the Porpoise. She thought about seeing his sister and mum through the kitchen window. She thought about stepping round the pool of blood on the floor as it spread out from Jack McKenna’s stomach. Had Sam’s mum cleaned up yet?

Ellie leaned over the railing and looked down. Light from the sun scudded off the ripples in the water, blinding her for a moment. She raised a hand to shield her eyes and thought she saw something down there, a dark shape shifting through the water. Could be a seal, a basking shark, a piece of junk, anything. A porpoise, maybe, in its element, living only for the moment.

She leaned back, gazed out past the rail bridge and thought of Logan. Pictured him standing in the hall of their house, thirteen years old, playing with his hair and peering at the mirror, the smell of Lynx wafting into Ellie’s nose as she watched from the kitchen doorway. He was going out on his first date, at least the first that she knew about, with a girl called Maddie. Going to the cinema then Pizza Hut up the road. Logan was trying to pretend it wasn’t a big deal, shrugging his shoulders and avoiding Ellie’s gaze, but she knew different, could tell straight away that he liked her. She worried, of course, he was her baby, going into the world to get his heart broken a hundred times by a hundred different girls. Or maybe he was out there breaking hearts himself, either way it was horrible to think about. She didn’t mind the physical stuff so much, the idea of him doing things with girls. They’d had the talk a long time before, he knew all about being safe, even at thirteen. It was the emotional stuff. He wasn’t a typical boy, full of bravado and bluster. He was soft and kind and cared about what people felt. That was better, of course, she was proud that she and Ben had raised such a caring person, but it also left him open to hurt. By girls, by other boys, by the world. And she couldn’t do anything to protect him, that was the worst of it. She just had to be there and cuddle him when it went wrong. Except she never got that chance.

She thought again of Sam in the boat, closed her eyes and held tight to the railing, the tremor in it carrying up her arms. She had to save Sam. She still didn’t know how, but she would save him.

‘Thank you,’ she said. ‘Thank you for this second chance.’

15

The lone clank of a hammer on metal greeted her from one of the boat sheds. She walked past the cafe and clubhouse, then the coastguard Portakabin, no activity there. She went past the Bosun’s Locker supply shop. Rumour was the rich owner was going to buy the marina from the council, reopen the sailing school. Ellie would believe it when she saw it.

She hurried past the boats in the dinghy park, their worn undersides exposed to the elements, then she turned on to the pier. Punched the code into the door lock and scurried down the stairs to the berths.

One or two old men were tinkering on their boats. This was the sailing fan’s equivalent of a shed, retired men came here and hid from their wives, women who were equally keen to get their husbands out from under their feet. The vast majority of boat owners were old men, partly because they were the only ones who could afford them, partly because they were the only ones who had the time to dedicate to such an all-consuming hobby. Not that they would call it a hobby, to these salty dogs it was a way of life, just as it had been for Ben before the sailing school had closed down.

Ellie had a sudden flit of tension in her chest – what if Ben had got up early and come here already? But then Ellie spotted the Porpoise in its berth, scruffier and smaller than the boats on either side, needing a paint job and a caulking coat. Ellie and Ben’s ability to focus on such things had evaporated in the last six months, no energy to think about anything other than their grief, so the Porpoise was in need of some serious TLC. Ellie resolved to take care of it once this was all over.

She was at the boat now, no sign of life. She tugged on a rope, pulled the vessel alongside the pontoon then climbed on board. She had a quick look round. Just the same old men fiddling with brass fittings, sails, ropes. She ducked below deck.

She knew straight away he was gone.

She rushed to the berth in the forward cabin, just a jumble of sheets. She flipped the covers over, picked them up and shook, as if he’d tumble out somehow. She lifted the pillow to her face and breathed in. His smell. She looked round the tiny cabin, checked the toilet. It had been used, water droplets around the sink. She opened the bin in the main cabin, just the remains of food packaging in there.

She glanced round the cabin one last time, picturing herself spotting something like a television detective, but it was just her little boat, giving away nothing.

She hurried up the steps and out on deck. Looked around, more urgently this time, watching for any human movement amongst the bobbing boats and swaying masts. The clack of rigging filled the air with a constant chatter. You got used to it down here, but suddenly it seemed like gossipers to Ellie’s ears, mocking her attempt to control this situation.

She saw old McNamara working on his keel boat a few berths down, and leapt off deck towards him.

‘Hey, Ronnie,’ she said.

He looked up and smiled. All these old guys felt paternal about Ellie, especially since what had happened with Logan. She liked that but also hated it a little, an uneasy mix of comfort and condescension. Ronnie had wild eyebrows and leathery skin, a lifetime of wind and waves toughening his face into a mask.

‘Ellie.’

‘Have you seen anyone down here this morning?’

‘You mean Ben?’

Ellie thought for a second. ‘Yeah, he said he was going to take the Porpoise out today.’

Ronnie shook his head. ‘Haven’t seen him.’

‘Have you been down here long?’

‘A while. I don’t sleep like I used to, like to come down and potter about.’

‘Have you seen anyone else come along this pontoon since you got here?’

‘Like who?’

‘Just anyone.’

Ronnie frowned. ‘Is there a problem with your boat? Has someone tampered with it?’

Ellie shook her head. ‘No, nothing like that, I was just wondering.’

Ronnie gave it some thought. ‘No dear, there’s been no one near the Porpoise that I’ve seen. I was below deck for a few minutes, but I’ve mostly been up top.’

‘When did you get here?’

‘Are you sure everything’s OK?’

‘Fine,’ Ellie said. ‘Just, when did you get here?’

‘About an hour ago.’

‘OK.’

Ellie began to walk away.

‘Ellie?’ It was Ronnie behind her.

She turned. ‘Yeah?’

‘If there’s anything I can do to help, just let me know.’

Ellie nodded. ‘I will.’

‘Take it easy,’ Ronnie said.

‘Thanks,’ she said over her shoulder.

She walked along the pontoon and pulled her phone out, dialled Sam’s number as she went. Straight to voicemail. She hung up.

She jogged up the steps and along the pier then stopped and surveyed the scene. There were a million places to hide in the marina, boat sheds, yachts, the abandoned warehouses, but why leave the Porpoise if you just intended to hide somewhere else?

She skirted round the coastguard hut and popped her head into the sailing clubhouse. Empty. She went through to the changing rooms and looked into the men’s locker room. No one there.

She ducked out and strode to Karinka’s Kitchen, the greasy spoon. It wasn’t always open, but the sign was out and she smelt burnt fat and coffee. She opened the door. A couple of old timers were getting bacon rolls for breakfast, a guilty little secret from their wives after their bran flakes at home. Ellie could ask Karinka behind the counter but she was already wary of arousing suspicion, so she turned and left.