The wind gusted in an uneasy way this morning, rattling the protective plastic sheets so they snapped like canvas sails, stirring the field of tomato plants, sending white horses galloping across the restless sea far below.

Only about fifty members of the community were assembled up here to pay witness. The rest of them were lining the railings on the decks below.

Howard and Dennis finally came to a halt in front of Valérie. The old man between them looked surprisingly calm, given the fate awaiting him. Valérie had been hoping Walter would’ve started kicking and screaming on his way up here, pleading in an altogether undignified way for his mercy. Instead, he stood sullenly in front of him, eyes narrowed with bitter hatred and rage that was almost palpable.

‘Walter Eddings, you understand why you are up here, yes?’ asked Valérie loudly, his voice carrying across to the witnesses gathered on the helipad.

Walter’s lips quivered slightly but he said nothing.

‘It was decided collectively by these people - people who know you far better than me, people who trusted you - that you should be put to death for what you did to Natasha Bingham.’

‘You know I did nothing,’ Walter replied, struggling to keep his voice even. ‘I didn’t touch her.’

‘She was on your boat, Walter. Do not try and lie about that. What things you did to her, how she died, I am afraid we will never know. Perhaps it is better that way—’

‘I never fucking well touched her!’

‘You are also being punished for what I suspect you may have done to the other girl, Hannah.’

Walter shook his head. ‘I know it was you! I know that was you, you dirty bastard!’

‘Walter . . .’ Valérie said, reaching a hand out and placing it amicably on his shoulder. ‘Why are you lying now? It is too late to change things, really. At least if you were to admit it now, and ask God for His forgiveness you could leave the world unburdened.’ He smiled. ‘You see, God really does love everyone. Even you. If you open your heart to him, this will not be the end for you. But the beginning of a period of redemption.’

Walter lurched forward and spat at Valérie, but the gusting wind carried his spittle away.

‘You’re a fucking lying pervert! You’re a fucking sick bastard!’ the old man screamed at him. ‘I never touched either of them!’ He twisted round to shout over his shoulder at the women gathered on the helipad behind him. ‘Do you see what he’s doing!! DO YOU SEE!!’

‘Shut up!’ shouted someone in the crowd.

‘Why?’ Walter’s voice broke. ‘Why me? Why don’t you believe me? I’d never hurt Hannah. I’d never h-hurt anyone!’

‘Shut up, shut up!!’ screamed Mrs Bingham. ‘JUST DIE!!’ Her voice trailed away into a wash of burbling tears as Alice folded a protective arm around her. ‘Why don’t you just go, Walter.’

Walter’s temper flared. ‘You fucking bitch! After all I’ve fucking done for you lot!! Why? Why??? Why are you doing this to me?’

Valérie had hoped he’d crumble. Make a scene. Plead. Accuse. Snarl. Every word he spat at them only made him sound more guilty.

‘Don’t you see? Doesn’t anyone see? It’s him! HIM!! Latoc! I’d never hurt our girls! I didn’t hurt Hannah!! I loved her for God’s sake!!’

‘She was like my own. Like my own daughter!!’

Valérie gently squeezed his shoulder. ‘Walter.’

The old man turned back to him. There was spittle on his cheeks, caught in his beard, his eyes wide and his face was mottled and crimson with fear. He couldn’t have done a better job of looking like the right man to face the charge.

Thou protesteth much too much, sir.

‘Walter,’ said Valérie softly, just for his ears. ‘I could spare you, you know? But these people feel betrayed by you. They are angry and hurt. Why not admit now what you did? Perhaps I could use that to help you. Show them that you understand what you have done is wrong. Perhaps then I could persuade them to settle for you just being evicted? Yes?’

Walter shook his head. He even managed to sneer. ‘What? So you can be in the clear? Fuck you!’

Valérie let go of his shoulder. ‘Then I am so sorry. I really cannot help you, if you will not help yourself.’

‘Jenny knows,’ he hissed breathlessly back at him. He turned to shout over his shoulder again. ‘Jenny knows I never did anything!! That’s all that fucking matters to me! That she knows!! Ask her!’

‘Let us pray for this man’s soul!’ called out Valérie, dipping his head.

‘Jenny knows I’m innocent!’ Walter screamed, his voice ragged and breathless. ‘SHE KNOWS!!’

‘Lord, hear our prayer. This man has sinned against his family and his friends. He has taken the lives of two innocent young girls in moments of madness and selfishness. There can be no—’

‘I DIDN’T DO IT!! IT’S HIM!!’

‘—room aboard our ark for one who would take a young life for his own needs—’

‘HE KILLED NATASHA! HE KILLED HANNAH! I’M NOT A PERVERT!!’

‘—we hope, in this final moment, that he can understand the hurt he has caused to those beautiful children, to their mothers, to all of us. May God have mercy on his soul.’

Valérie dropped his hands and looked up. He nodded to the two men and they proceeded to wrestle Walter towards a narrow gap in the railing at the edge of the helipad.

‘Dennis . . . Howard!!’ gasped Walter turning to him. ‘For fuck’s sake! Please . . . don’t do this!!’

‘You brought this on yourself, mate,’ grunted Dennis.

Walter writhed and twisted in their grip as they shunted him through the gap until he teetered on the very edge of the platform, nothing between his overhanging toes and the sea but one hundred and eighty feet of blustering air.

‘PLEEEASSE!!’

Both men locked their free arms around the railing to brace themselves against Walter’s weight, teetering and swaying over the edge. They both looked at Valérie, awaiting his nod for them to release their grip on Walter’s upper arms.

‘It’s HIM . . . NOT ME . . . it’s HIM!!’

Then, all of sudden, his desperate twisting and struggling was too much for Dennis to maintain a grip, the left arm pulled free and Walter swung around with Howard still struggling to keep a hold onto the right arm. Their eyes met over Walter’s shoulder.

‘Oh, God, no . . . !’ he whimpered. ‘Please . . . please . . .’

Howard grimly pressed his lips together. ‘I’m really sorry, Walt,’ he whispered. He let go and Walter pitched forward. He tumbled, spinning end over end, his hands bound behind his back, white-knuckled and clenched as if in prayer, his legs scissoring in a futile attempt to right himself. Nearly six seconds of descent, then he disappeared into the roiling suds that spilled between the platform’s legs.