What Remains 63We waited, rain continuing to beat against the trees, drumming against the leaves, against the canopy. There were four huge windows on the front of the shell that had once been St David’s Children’s Home, all boarded up. What I was more interested in was an extension on the side of the building – a little newer, although still decades old – built in brick, with a slanted red-tile roof: it was half submerged behind a bank of big fir trees, but I could make out a set of grey double doors at one end.One was slightly ajar.I gestured for Healy to follow me, and we arced around, using the trees as cover. Forty feet short of the double doors, I stopped for a second time, taking in the view on this side of the building, waiting for Healy to fall in. As the wind picked up, the open door wafted out from its frame.‘Are you coming in with me?’ I said to him quietly.He frowned. ‘What sort of question is that?’He was weary, his shoulders rising and falling, and I thought I could see him shivering slightly.‘I don’t know what we’re going to find in there.’He shrugged, his breathing slowly settling into a rhythm, and then looked at me, a shimmer in his eyes.
