15

The boy lay down to rest once more. Leaving Mr Armitage to reflect on all he’d said. He decided a walk outside would be the best approach. No good thinking ever gets done inside. He crouched down and out the low back door, around the pond, zig-zagging his way between the flower beds. On to the fence at the end of the garden. He opened the gate, bending beneath the branch that hangs above it. He was once again in the sisters' field. He snaked between the mounds of earth and thanked them as he went. He asked them - not for comfort - but for guidance. He carried on to the centre of the field and looked east. Out and up, he could see her branch. He pictured Ella there then, waving at him and the girls. The sisters' field was bare today, but in a few months, he would once more become scarcely visible in the sea of green and gold.

Reaching the brook, he stepped over and arrived at the low branch - Calum’s. The lad was so different from the other two. His brother seemed to be his only access to anything internal. Without Conor, his internal vision was largely impaired. All he cared about was how things looked, how they sounded, how things smelt, how the world around him felt. Mr Armitage thought about the lads' claim - that Ella had no organs - and sensed that he was referring to his late realisation that he had a whole life inside that had largely been neglected or not requiring access before now. He knew this because Calum talked so bloody much. It was as though, to him, there were no events but those that had been described. But he was wrong about Ella. He knew that girl; she was the opposite of empty.

He looked up at Conor’s branch and winced a smile. He thanked God that he was the one with Ella. He might actually survive. He had watched Conor turn inwards many times. He knew the lad had a way of processing the things that were happening to him. Knew he had ways of storing what he needed to and letting go of the rest. He never needed to speak to Calum, but he did so to somehow collect the memories and fragments for him, too. But somehow Calum had kept from Conor the man who had covered Ella’s feet with ashes. He wished for Conor’s return, as he had been constantly, though momentarily not for his safety, but for his counsel.

Mr Armitage had been fragmented for years. He split three times the day his daughters disappeared, and again every day since. He never used to clatter around the house when they were there. He’d been gentle. It took everything he had to concentrate on Calum earlier, and more to focus and go over it again now. He thought of the three of them as he looked up to Ella’s branch. Thought about attempting the climb before quickly thinking better of it - no use to anyone with a broken neck. The wind blew a cold that made him grab his jacket zips and pull them closed. He glanced down, watched the frost blowing around his feet. Thought of the ashes. Thought of the empties. He was chief among them. He felt them again walking through the field behind him. Stretched his hand out behind him without turning and cried out -

“No!”

The icy snow whipped around his hands. Watched as flecks of ice alighted on his jacket and melted. His mind turned back towards Conor again. You’re not here, are you, lad, he thought.