Chris wonders if he hangs round the beach these days because he misses the island. In a lot of ways, it turned into home for him after having lived there so long. There was still loads of stuff he missed about Bristol-- people, mostly, the ones who never turned up-- but the beach here in Darrow reminds him of bonfires and swimming and hanging about with Cass and Olive and he's going to spend as much time here as he can before it's cold again.

He's got his shoes in one hand as he walks, and he's thinking about texting Cissie to see what she's up to when he jabs his toe against something half buried in the sand.

"Shit," he curses, reaching down to grab his toe and make sure it's not broken or anything.

And he notices the bottle.