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Once payment was made, the man without eyelids gestured to Conor. He rose from the back seat and approached his old friend. Same as always, Conor and the second passenger alighted the bus together. However, this time, as his feet touched back down, he did not rush through the floor and back into the bloody diamond as he had reluctantly hoped he would. Ella followed behind them. Another minute passed, three total - right on time - the bus departed Bay Six.

Conor walked three paces behind his second passenger. He led them out and into the bus station. Everything glistened with that new-build sheen. No graffiti, no smashed windows. Conor couldn’t help but smile at how well he’d looked after it. They passed Bay One and crossed the road, soon passing through the arch of the viaduct, across to a small field. A table stood at its centre. Conor felt a pang of embarrassment again. It was one of those plastic folding tables you see in old churches, that’s what he had in his deep. Conor couldn’t get the image out of his mind of the man without eyelids wrestling and clicking the table legs into place for their meal.

He moved one chair out and gestured to Ella to approach. She did so and sat as he shuffled the chair in behind her. He repeated this with Conor. He walked around to the other side and took his seat facing them. He gestured for them to eat. The meal was a ceremony they were familiar with. They had had this meal every year with Mr Armitage. It was the three sisters' harvest.