‘Oh, stop there,’ said Trio. ‘You’re getting embarrassing, my little appendage. We have never even begun to be holy. Don’t ever say that, Trey. And don’t say that either.’

‘Say what?’

‘What you were just thinking. That was a well stupid thing to think.’

‘Fair enough.’

‘Trey is full of it,’ said Trio. ‘But he’s right in one thing. We’ve spent too long by ourselves. We’ve had too long to think about stuff and now he’s making up mystical hogwash like it’s his own stupid religion. The mighty rule of three.’

‘I won’t be the only one to make up a religion,’ said Trey. ‘You’ll see. There’ll be three of us. Always comes in threes.’

‘He’s just saying that, you know,’ said Trio. ‘He’s got no actual proof.’

‘Don’t listen to her,’ Trey protested. ‘It’s the God’s own. I’ve observed it, and you will too. Everything works in threes. One-two-three O’Leary. So today is your lucky day. Three is your magic number. Three times you fell into the fire and three times you were rescued from the flames. So, because you’ve nearly died three times, it can’t happen again.’

‘Yeah,’ said Trio. ‘Next time you’ll actually die.’

‘Cheers, that’s a nice thought,’ said Ollie.

‘Oh my gosh. This is awkward. That came out all wrong. I am blushing,’ said Trio. ‘Didn’t mean that. Sounded harsh.’

‘It’s OK,’ said Ollie. ‘We all do it. Make dark jokes. It’s that or flip out.’

‘Don’t you flip out on us,’ said Trey. ‘You are supposed to be taking us to a better place.’

‘I’ll do my best. But I’m not looking forward to trying to go to sleep tonight. I know when I close my eyes …’

‘We’ve all got bad films in our heads,’ said Trio. ‘Don’t think about it.’

‘I’m trying. So tell me, how does it work then?’ Ollie asked Trey. ‘Your rule of three?’

‘There’s three of everything in the world,’ said Trey. ‘Like the three of us.’

‘If you don’t mind me asking,’ said Ollie, ‘I was wondering. That thing on your back … is it alive?’

‘Hey,’ said Trio, with mock offence. ‘That thing on our back is not a thing, it’s a person. He’s Mister Three. And he is very much alive.’

‘Yeah, sorry.’

‘It’s all right,’ said Trey. ‘To tell you the truth, he’s a pain in the arse. Literally.’

‘He sleeps his life away,’ said Trio. ‘Wakes up every few days, looks around, has a moan and then nods off again. Most of the time he doesn’t bother us, but sometimes, God give me strength and slap me down for thinking bad of the poor little deformed thing, I wish we could slice him off. He keeps us awake for days.’