The path ascended sharply from the strand in the centre of Portrush. The dogs, wet from their first gallop along the edge of the water, raced ahead of them. David’s whistle brought them back in continuous orbit.
Looking at the small islands offshore, Meg and David stopped to take in the intensely blue sky and golden light on the rocks. Once they’d climbed to the top and the cliff edge, the vista opened before them: the breadth of the curve of the strand and the blue-green sea crashing far below their feet.
“Look! Is it Donegal? I think it is.” Meg pointed to the west.
To the east, the snowy White Rock was visible from this height, as though it had risen as Meg and David had risen. The humans on the strand below were tiny figures. Standing near a clump of sharp beach grass with a hand sh
