23Cornelius remains an enigma. A week ago, when an old acquaintance of his passed his boat, he spewed vindictive rage after him, within hearing! Why didn’t I describe this incident when it happened? Because I was ashamed. I know the instinct of shame. I shouldn’t be associated with him. Whenever his mother comes into the conversation, he tenses up, curls his lip and turns his eyes hard and mean. This morning a wine bottle rolled out of a cupboard onto the mahogany floor, making a small dent.
‘Who didn’t put the wine bottle away properly,’ he roared. ‘Look what it’s done to the floor!’ He waved his arms, burst red, and blew out into a full-blown tantrum. ‘This is my home!’
Dad and I watched. We didn’t say anything to each other.
In the afternoon I was struggling with the winch to bring i
