It was early too. Far too early to come visiting. Ned’s anger gripped, burned. He stared at the man, noting his slim frame. He tensed the muscles in his neck. Felt sure he could handle this waifish stranger. Could throw him to the gravel and drag him off the property by his collar if he had to.

The man, now halfway down the driveway, had stopped. As if resting, or looking for something. Ned gathered the words in his throat. Knew that he was going to lose control. Tasted iron on his tongue. Got ready to shout.

Before he could, he heard a scrabbling at his back. He turned to see Maggie coming out of the house. Running along the driveway. Her feet skimming over the dirt, hair whipping out behind her. The memory of her turning the rifle onto the suited man flashed into him.

Ned became worried. Even though this man was uncommonly thin, even though he looked badly worn, he might be dangerous. He began to stride faster, trying to catch up, but he was too far behind her.

Maggie reached the stranger and, without slowing down, hurled her body into his. Ned flinched. Thought she had tackled him, before realising that they were embracing. Her arms wrapped around him. Her head was on his chest, her back heaving with what seemed to be sobs. The man stayed upright, braced against her weight, against the force of her.

By now Ned was trotting. Was close enough to see the man better. Close enough to see his face when he raised it.

Bill looked at him over their sister’s shaking shoulder. His cheeks were sunken, his chin and brow more prominent than Ned remembered. Rough lines ran across his forehead and around his eyes: creases that could be wrinkles, could be scars. A newish shirt hung awkwardly on his spindly limbs and narrow trunk. His shoulders remained broad, but wore no flesh; they were all points and angles. His hair was thin too, and darker. His eyes had been pulled back into shadowed caves, and from those blackened divots he was staring at Ned. His eyes still a crisp blue. Still sharp.

A small smile drew his mouth open. His body slumped a little. Maggie clung on.