Before he could react, she slipped a hand into his and looked up into his face, speaking in a tiny child’s voice that was both earnest and comical. ‘There’s still time, you know. They can wait for you.’

He stared at her as if she was crazy, until her sister threw a snowball meant for her that exploded instead on Calvin’s shoulder.

‘Lorna!’ The mother was furious. She put down her bags on the roof of her car and ran to where Calvin stood staring at her daughter.

‘I’m so sorry about that.’ She grabbed the culprit by the arm and the smaller girl by the hand.

‘That was very stupid and very rude. Now say sorry to the gentleman, Lorna.’

Lorna looked up at Calvin and back at her mother. Quickly she stood on tiptoe and kissed the Indian’s lined brown face. Her sister hesitated, looking deep into his eyes, then did the same. They broke loose from their mother’s grip and ran laughing to the car.

The woman was bewildered but charmed. She looked at Calvin who had remained fixed to the spot in a trance and put her hands in her coat pockets with a shrug.

‘Kids.’

He looked at her dumbly.

‘Are you okay?’

Her face was full of concern and compassion. He nodded his head.

She smiled at him like the sun breaking from behind a cloud. ‘Take care now.’ She turned to join her daughters. They got in the car and drove away, skidding in the snow as the night swallowed them up.

He stood like that for minutes, the circle of white from the snowball gradually crumbling from his jacket. He would have liked to pretend that it had been his imagination, but he knew it had been real. There was to be no escape then. It must be done. He was part of it. His tears came unchecked then, and he stood and cried like a child. He cried for the love that was in those three strangers’ hearts, and for the hatred and evil that would one day seek to destroy them. And he cried that a weak and sick old man was the only thin and useless straw the Great Spirit would use against a force that could end him with a thought. But through his tears he knew he had been spoken to by something other than the child, and he wiped his eyes and took a deep shuddering breath. He looked once at the wooden door of the bar with the blue neon Labatt’s sign glowing above it, then walked slowly along the street towards the woods and the hills.

She swallowed her M&M and slapped the desk with her palm. ‘Jesus, Eric, this is the end.’