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Epilogue

Conor watched as the man without eyelids stood. Eyes off him, he turned from the room and down the stairs. He noted his careful steps as he walked behind him. Seeing him, a man a similar size to Mr Armitage was strange. He cut so graceful a figure as he wandered out into the night. Conor turned away, moved through the hedge-hole of Number Seven and again into Mrs Careen’s pristine garden. He checked his father's watch, it was half eight in the evening. He saw the light of her rear room on and approached. All the curtains were closed, no visitors appeared welcome, but he had nowhere else to go.

He knocked on the door. She sounded panicked.

“No, no thank you! No, no!”

Conor replied - “Hi, Mrs Careen, it’s Conor from Number Three.”

He heard commotion as she threw whatever was on her lap to the ground and grasped for the key. After some fumbling, she unlocked the door and slammed it an inch into the chain latch. Shut it again and a moment later reached for him, immediately stopping herself before she held the boy as she realised she had no depth of relationship from which to hug him. But the boy wanted nothing more than to be held. As soon as his right hand stretched out slightly and upturned, she saw what he needed, bent down and wrapped her arms around him.

News of Mr Armitage’s death made its way back to Mrs Careen from Wesley swiftly since she’d been making calls to inform Mr Armitage of Conor’s return. He told her what had happened, and she instructed him to return Calum as soon as they’d buried the great man. She knew he’d be as happy laid to rest on their land as he would on his own. They buried him that day, and Wesley escorted Calum home. He wished to see the field where Mr Armitage had raised and paid tribute to his girls.

He stayed for a few weeks, stayed for the planting. Showed Calum and Conor how to plant the three sisters. Mrs Careen noted how the pair of them mirrored this man exactly, even better than Calum’s Armitage impression. She wished he’d stay to help the boys, but only time would test their trouble. He reminded her of Mr Armitage, but more present in his body, fuller somehow.

Wesley knew he had to return for the planting on his own land. He had agreed with many of the townsfolk to plant the three sisters this year in memory of their old friend and guardian, in an attempt to reclaim some of the traditions he’d loved and to tie them once again to their history and stories. The only protection they had against the warlord, who continued to make his silent offers whenever he travelled in his deep.