Alison came back with Jason. She couldn’t carry him, he was too heavy for her, but she held him close against her as he walked beside her, her arm around the boy’s shoulders as she pressed his head against her waist. His face was stained with tears. He lifted big dark eyes to look at us, to stare aghast or fascinated, it was hard to tell. I thought then that we must have been the first people he had seen, apart from Andrew and Alison, for six months.

It was as if Alison read my mind. “We see no one. We live here isolated. Andrew goes out sometimes, not often. He goes to buy food. We live out of tins.” She glanced at her wineglass. “And bottles.”

Then Silver said it again, that we were friends, that we wanted to help them. They must trust us.

“But why? Why help us?”

“I suppose because we think you ought to have him. We don’t like the rules. Isn’t that enough? Trust us.”

“I trust no one,” Andrew said.

He took Jason on his knee. He drew him toward him and looked solemnly into his face. Everything those two did seemed ritualistic, studied, as if they believed they were doing it for the last time. Andrew gently eased Jason into his arms, letting the boy lean back into the crook of his elbow. Alison crossed the room and closed the window. Jason was quiet then, sleepy, content.

“We’ll prove our—our good faith,” Silver said. “We’ll go now.” He finished his wine and, as if on cue, I too emptied my glass. “You’ll know we mean what we say when you hear nothing. We’ll come back tomorrow, we’ll come back at nine. Nine in the evening, I mean.” He stood up. I stood up and he put his arm around me, but he was still looking searchingly at the people he was talking to. “If nothing has happened by then, and nothing will, when we come back you’ll know we’re friends. Right?”

Neither of them said anything. Jason had fallen asleep in his foster father’s arms. We said, “Good night.”

Still no one spoke. They watched us. Silver said, “We’ll replace your wine. We’ll bring you lots of it.” And, characteristically, “Don’t worry, please don’t.”

Silver opened the window. He pushed down the top sash and pushed up the bottom sash. We climbed out. We walked along the balcony. The light inside the window we’d come out of went off almost immediately, but though we waited awhile and listened, no one shut the window.

“They’ve left it open,” Silver said, “because they think nothing matters anymore, they think this is the end of the world.”