They walk the narrow circuit of concrete paths between bedraggled shrubs. She will never hear the sound of crutches on a concrete path again without recalling Hannes’s tall frame. She falls in step beside him and Hannes says, as if there has been no break in their conversation from the day before, ‘Towards the end of our second year on the island Cecil and Maisie went on leave. The relief keeper didn’t pitch up at the harbour for the tug which was on its way to fetch them. Apparently, he’d been taken ill – but that’s another story!’ He looks down at the plaster on his foot, adjusts his fingers on the crutches’ grip. ‘Anyway, it was too short notice to find someone else and there were important supplies for us and the guano workers, which couldn’t wait, so they left harbour without him.’ He glances at Rika. ‘Funny that – because of the muddle, it turned out to be the only time Aletta and I were alone at the light. It was the last time we ever really spent together too.
