37 IN THE AFTERNOON they cross the causeway and drive back to Allenmouth through a heavy sea mist. The weather has broken, and they both feel something slipping away. James drops Anna off at her father’s house. ‘That was lovely, all of it – St Cuthbert’s Island, the trip to the Farnes, the refuge box. I loved being with you. You make me feel calm, secure.’ Anna leans into the car, kisses him and says, ‘You won’t be seeing me for a few days. I told you I needed to sort things out with Zach. And then...’ She goes up the steps, the sentence unfinished, turns and waves, and is gone. ‘What does “sorting things out” mean? What’s the unfinished business?’ James asks himself. He finds Anna’s words unsettling after their three days on Holy Island. He knows her response to his Donhead invitation is eminently sensible in theory. In practice he isn’t ready to give up and go south alone. He takes refuge again in his great-grandmother’s diaries; nineteenth-century Ireland stops him agonizing over Anna.
