‘Got what wrong?’ she asks while hungrily eating the fruit. ‘Oh, the timeline. Everything he said made sense though. Hang on, Harry, can you smash that one?’ she says, rolling another big thing towards Harry. Larger than the one he just smashed and a deep pink colour with streaks of green and orange radiating out from a thick stem.

‘Take cover,’ Harry says, raising his fist. Safa and Ben both duck as he smashes down, spraying the room in more sloppy goo. They sit back up and watch Harry picking chunks of fruit out from his beard while flicking his hand up and down, trying to shake the remnants off.

‘Me first.’ Safa leans over, scooping a handful of soft innards out from the broken shell. She does the sniff test then a tentative lick before shovelling it in her gob. ‘Oh,’ she says enthusiastically. ‘Try that.’

‘Yeah?’ Ben asks, reaching over. ‘What is it?’

‘Like plum . . .’ she says, spraying fruit. ‘Sorry.’ She covers her mouth, tasting the plum-like fruit that is deeper, richer and with hints of other things and different from the first one that was lighter and cleaner. ‘Don’t talk to me. My mouth is having an orgasm.’

‘Miss!’ Harry cries out with a crimson blush spreading through his cheeks.

‘What?’ Safa asks in mirth at his discomfort. ‘It is,’ she says.

‘I . . . well, I just never—’ Harry says primly.

‘Never what? Orgasmed?’ she asks as he blushes an even deeper shade of red. ‘I only said “orgasm”.’

‘Stop it,’ he huffs, looking away, but reaches back to grab another bit of the plum fruit.

‘I forgot you were all sexually repressed back then,’ she says goadingly as Harry starts to cough and splutter in response.

‘Not repressed . . . just discreet,’ he says between coughs.

‘Anyway, what were you saying?’ she asks Ben. ‘Oh, you said he might be wrong about the timeline thing.’

‘Yeah,’ Ben says, eyeing another long, marrow-shaped object. ‘Maybe he is.’

‘He isn’t, you know that.’

‘I don’t know anything . . . Harry, what’s that one?’ Ben asks as the ravenous hunger takes over his sense of misery.

‘This one?’ he asks, hefting the marrow.

‘Yeah,’ Ben replies, then looks at Safa. ‘So you’re just accepting it then?’

‘What choice do we have?’ she asks.

‘Want it?’ Harry asks them both, holding the marrow thing up.

‘Can I open it?’ Safa asks.

‘Will you stop being vulgar?’

‘Probably not,’ she replies. ‘Okay, yes, I promise to try and stop being vulgar . . .’ she adds when he holds the marrow thing away with a smile.

‘Heavy,’ he says, placing it down on the table with a thump.

‘I’m on it,’ she says, standing up. ‘Take cover.’

‘Cover,’ Harry says as he and Ben both duck.

‘Shit!’ Safa yelps in pain from her karate-chopping hand bouncing off the marrow thing. ‘Trying again . . . ouch . . . fucking thing . . . ow! Fucking stupid . . . shit!’

‘Miss, do you want me to . . .’

‘No . . . ouch . . . oh, you piece of shit . . . right . . .’