‘You don’t know your dog is dead,’ Morag said sharply. ‘They’re still searching.’

‘Yeah.’ William’s voice was a jeer. ‘One dog. Twenty-four hours in the sea. You know, I would have killed myself months ago but for Mutt. He… Hell, he keeps me sane.’

‘So if you jump now and Mutt’s found, what are we going to do with him?’ Morag asked.

‘Get your nephew to keep him. And his friend. Hamish and Robbie, they’re always pestering me to take him for walks.’

‘You really think your Mutt would want to live with a nine-year-old rather than live with you?’ Morag asked incredulously, and there was a moment’s pause.

But then there was the sound of dragging-a door being opened above them-and Grady saw Morag wince. He guessed that William was opening the door to the ledge outside.

‘William, you know we’re both doctors,’ he called, and there was another moment’s silence, as though William was considering whether to answer them or not.

But finally he did.

‘I know that. So you can help Morag with…with the mess. I need to-’

‘You know you’re suffering from depression.’

‘I’m not suffering-’

‘You are, mate,’ Grady called urgently, knowing that time here was horribly limited. ‘What you’re describing sounds like real, dark and appalling depression. If I’m right, what you have is not just a bit of temporary sadness but a medically treatable, chemical imbalance. It’s not just a bleak mood. It’s depression as in a major clinical illness. Depression with a capital D-as in an illness that can be cured.’

‘Cured…’ There was a harsh laugh. ‘Don’t be funny. Cured. What a joke. It’s been months. The times I’ve told myself to snap out of it…’

‘It doesn’t work, does it?’

‘Of course it doesn’t.’

‘Treating yourself for this sort of depression is impossible,’ Grady called. ‘You can’t do it. The more you try to tell yourself to snap out of it, the more you can’t and the worse it gets. You feel a failure because you can’t make yourself operate. You can’t make the most minor decisions. You can’t think forward with any glimmer of hope at all.’

‘Yeah.’ The door dragged again.

‘But we can help,’ Grady called strongly and urgently. ‘It’s not something you can cope with alone, but you can move forward. There’s new antidepressants…’

‘Yeah.’ William’s voice was a mocking cry. ‘I’ve read about ’em. They knock you right out. You smile and wave but there’s no one at home.’

‘The old ones were like that,’ Grady told him. ‘Not any more. I swear. There’s all sorts of people operating normal, optimistic lives while they’re on antidepressants. While they’re being cured. People you can’t believe would ever need them. Depression’s insidious and everywhere. They call it the black dog. William, believe me, it’s treatable, and we can help you.’

Silence.

‘It’d be an awful shame,’ Morag said softly into the stillness, ‘if we found Mutt tonight and you weren’t here to welcome him home.’

Another silence. And then a rasping sob, choked back.

‘If I go away,’ Grady said, casting an urgent look at Morag. ‘William, if I go downstairs, will you open the hatch to Morag?’ He hesitated. ‘It’s over to you, mate. We’re here to help. I swear we can help.’

‘You can’t.’

‘Will you give us the chance? For Mutt’s sake at least?’

‘I…’

‘Look, I’m going down,’ Grady called, with a silent, urgent message to Morag. They had to act fast while William was hovering in indecision. Endless talk wouldn’t help-not when there was no eye contact. The longer he stayed up there…Well, it was over to Morag. ‘I’ll stay down below,’ he called. ‘Either to scrape what’s left of you off the rocks or to welcome you down when you come down with Morag. Your call. Over to you, Morag. See you below, mate.’

He turned and deliberately started the long climb down the stairs, allowing his boots to scrap on the worn steps so William could hear him going.

Please…

And before he’d gone twenty steps he heard the trapdoor being dragged back.

Morag was being allowed to enter.


He was brilliant.

With Grady present, William might have maintained a front. He might have played the man. But with Grady gone, all pretence disappeared and as Morag climbed the last few steps into the lightwell, he crumpled against her.

William had been one of the two men Morag had dated in the years she’d been back on the island. For a while things had looked possible, but in the end… He was trying really hard not to be gay, William had told her, and she’d decided pretty fast that this wasn’t a strong basis for a relationship.

Plus, there was the fact that he hadn’t made her heart flip as Grady had.

No one had. Ever.

But now… Morag knew William enough to hug him and to smooth his hair and hold him close until the ragged sobs subsided. This had been a serious attempt at suicide. She was under no illusion that if she and Grady had arrived ten minutes later they would have found a body at the base of the lighthouse.

But now…thanks to Grady…

She couldn’t think about Grady. She needed to focus on William.

How much of his isolation had been caused by undiagnosed depression? she wondered. He held himself aloof and most of the islanders thought he was an intellectual snob. Once she had him started on antidepressants, would it be possible to pull him more into island life? Have him help in the planning for the rebuilding? Run a course for islanders interested in creative writing? Maybe…

Maybe nothing. There wasn’t going to be an island, she told herself.

It was finished.

But now wasn’t the time to say that. She held him for as long as he needed her. Finally William hauled back and looked at her with a smile that was half-ashamed. ‘I’ve been a fool.’

‘You’ve been ill,’ she told him. ‘You are ill. I should have seen it. I should-’

‘You’d blame yourself?’

‘Heck, William…’

‘I’m a grown man. It’s up to me to ask for help.’

‘Are you asking for help now?’ she asked, and there was a long silence. She met his look square on and waited-for however long it took.

And finally it came.

‘Yes,’ he said. ‘Yes, I am.’


Marcus was waiting with Grady when they emerged from the lighthouse. They walked out the door and William put up a hand as if to shield his eyes from daylight. He’d walked up these stairs expecting never to climb down, Morag thought, and it must be quite a challenge to start again.

And here were Grady and Marcus. Marcus had been a tower of strength over the last twenty-four hours. The big fisherman seemed to be everywhere, organising, helping, planning. As Morag led William out the door, the two men she’d leaned on most were sitting on the stone coping, soaking the last rays of the day’s sun.

What had Grady told Marcus about William? she wondered. Whatever it was, there was no judgement on Marcus’s face. He peeled his long body off the stones and gave William a smile.

‘I’ve been looking for you.’

‘Is it Mutt?’ William asked hoarsely, and Marcus’s smile faded. There were islanders frantic about their loved ones, but for many, especially those who lived alone, the fate of their pets was just as important.

‘No, mate,’ he said gently. ‘We haven’t found your dog. But we’re still looking. The reason I’ve been searching for you is that we’re trying to sort out a bit of privacy for those who are in urgent need of it. Your cottage is one of the few that are undamaged. You have a water tank, a septic tank for sewerage and you have two bedrooms. We’re wondering if you could take in old Hazel Cartwright. You know Elias was killed and her home is shattered. She’s in the dormitory tent, just…just sitting. Your place is just up the hill from hers and she could still see the harbour. She can go to her daughter in Sydney if you refuse, but she’s desperate to stay for as long as she can.’

Had Grady done this? Morag flashed him an uncertain look. One look at his impassive face made her sure that he had. Of all the… This was perfect. To give William a need…

For the next few days, until antidepressants could take effect, William needed constant supervision. In a city, Morag would recommend that he become a voluntary patient in a clinic specifically designed for those at risk of self-harm. Here there could be no such supervision.

But caring for Hazel… It might work. She could even talk to Hazel about William’s needs, and they could care for each other.

Would he do it?

He was having trouble taking it in, she thought. She let her hand lie in his, aware that he was in need of support himself. To ask him to support another…

Would his black depression make him too self-absorbed?

‘Hazel plays the piano,’ William said softly. ‘I’ve heard her. Mutt and I walk past her place on the way to the beach, and there’s always music.’

‘They said she could have been a concert pianist if she’d stayed in the city,’ Morag told him. ‘But she chose a life with Elias, a life on the island.’

‘I have a piano,’ William said, and Morag cast a fleeting glance at Marcus and guessed he’d already thought this out.

‘Would you do it, mate?’ Marcus said, ignoring the fact that Morag was still holding William’s hand.

William stared at Marcus. Then he turned and stared up at the lighthouse. Finally he released Morag’s hand and gave himself a shake, as if he was shaking off a cloak. A cloak of fog and darkness and despair…

‘Of course I will,’ he said. ‘I’ll come with you now, shall I, and ask her if she’ll be my guest.’


Grady promised to call at William’s in an hour with medication and for a talk. To check on Hazel, he said, but they both knew it was more than that. Marcus and William started back to the makeshift township, and Morag and Grady were free to talk.