21Cornelius disappears immediately to trim his beard, neat and tidy around his mouth. I poke around for a book and find a small collection in a dark cupboard, floor level, behind some old sheets. They make a little pile on the floor, all dusty and well thumbed, and Hotel California by Thoreau is my first choice. Behind the navigation table is a shelf of sailing books, a large fish book, a small fish book, and a book for identifying corals. They look interesting for later.
Cornelius reappears, mortified. ‘I must apologise for how I look.’ I return the books to the shelves and look up. ‘Aging is a terrible process. A few years ago I had my eyelids tucked, on medical insurance. I had some then – I was still working. They hung down over my eyes and I couldn’t see properly.’ He sits down, draw
