“I want my own adventure. I want to go to Ireland. I want to see it.” I play along. “Okay, what do you want to see in Ireland?” “I want to see Dunluce Castle, where Jack’s mum took him on holiday before she died. I want to see the wild sea and the ruins. I want to . . . feel it.” George lifts his face as if the bursts of Irish air swell and rise around our tiny cottage in the middle of the English countryside.
