Because now I know we can. Already we’ve changed something. You, on the Martello tower, hugging a girl – that was me! Without my words being delivered by your nain in a fit of confusion, untethered as she briefly was from the here-and-now, it wouldn’t have happened. This I know.

So why did I go to all that effort, just for you to make a friend?

The thing is, I know what you are prepared to do. And I know what you won’t do. Because I can see it, up ahead.

Could I have got a message to you about the smouldering cigarettes? Perhaps. Would you have believed it, acted on it, saved the library?

You wouldn’t. Too much to ask. Too much at this stage, anyway.

I have to win your trust first. Your faith. Help you become who you need to be.

Because we have a job to do.

It keeps taunting me, this end that’s coming. I’m just peacefully following you, drifting in time, and – bang! The vision hits … shouting … screaming … death upon death upon death. Then black.

No detail, just an undeniable certainty that this is coming.

Together, we might change things.

Together, we must at least try.

Go-Between

‘The buses round here are terrible,’ the old lady says. She offers a pinkie finger into the pram and smiles as if a baby is sucking at it.

Will frowns at his phone. She’s right: his bus is running late and no amount of urging it to appear and rescue him is about to change that.

‘You’re heading into Ebbswick, yes? The 403?’

I didn’t tell her that, Will thinks. Could she see where I was looking on the timetable?

‘You’ll be waiting all afternoon – word from the wise.’

‘Right.’

‘Quicker to walk, actually. It’s half an hour from here, no more.’ She manoeuvres the pram out of the shelter and aims it up the road.

‘OK, thanks,’ Will says.

‘Walk with me? We can talk.’

‘Maybe I’ll give it another couple of minutes.’

The old lady looks at the hospital building, ten floors of stained concrete set back from the road. ‘She’s in the best place. Your nanna. Your nain.’

Will shuffles uncomfortably. ‘How –’

‘Walk with me, Will. Just a few minutes. Let’s chat. You’ll wait all day for that bus.’

She nods slowly. A Magician’s Nod.

‘You know my nain?’ Will asks as they take a left through some playing fields. He walks a good two metres from her side and prays no one from school sees the two of them together.

‘By association, I suppose you’d say.’

‘Got you.’ He’s no idea what she means.

The old lady points out flowers and birds to her pram as they walk. She coos at butterflies and insects.

This is a wind-up, Will thinks. Someone’s set this up.

But he’s too polite, too timid, to just ditch her.