Peter watched him for a little while. He wanted a hug, or to hug his dad, he wasn’t entirely sure which. But something stopped him from acting on either impulse. He briefly turned back just in case Becky was making her way to the diner. But there was no sign of her, so he walked back to the movie theatre and entered the lobby.

Marge stood upright from the popcorn stand with her back to Peter. “You’re back.”

“Yes,” said Peter. “I thought I’d cover the screening this evening, too.”

“Great. I can’t get enough of you.”

“You’re probably out here wondering when I’m going to tackle those holes in the carpet.”

Marge released a fistful of popcorn back into the stand and sighed. “Sure.”

“But I can vacuum the lobby for now, if you like, and fix the broken light bulb underneath the marquee.”

“And make the birds perch on your finger when you whistle for ’em?”

Peter forced a smile. “Sorry. I don’t know what that—”

“Forget about it.”

Peter looked around the lobby waiting for the awkwardness to subside and Marge made for the office door.

“So,” said Peter stepping forward.

“So, nothing. There’s no one in tonight.”

“But—”

“Go home, Philip.”

“Peter. My name’s Peter.”

“Look—”

“The apartment gets quiet.”

Marge drew in a deep sigh, seemingly irritated now by the sudden need for kindness. She held back at the door, strumming her fingers across the frame like Peter’s existence was nothing but a nuisance to her. But after a moment or two, she let all the air out of her lungs and quietly turned round.

“That’s why I keep the movie running even when no one’s in,” she said, her tone much softer than before. “I like the sound of people.”

“You do?”

“Don’t be so surprised. Just cos I don’t like having you around.”

“Sorry, it’s just that—”

“It was never this quiet in Yellowstone. Always rumbling. Always grumbling.”

“You were at Yellowstone?”

Marge picked a piece of popcorn from her breast. “You think I’ve just been standing here tolerating intolerable small talk for the last sixteen years? Yes, I was at Yellowstone.”

“I just meant that—”

“What?”

“I just meant that you must’ve known Henry and Darlene, that’s all.”

Marge looked down, rolling the piece of popcorn between her thumb and forefinger, and the music coming from inside the auditorium where the movie was playing seemed to grow louder, like a party taking place in another room.

“I knew of them,” she said after a while. “And I’m sorry they found the lake and caused so much destruction to the original community hiding there. But I can’t say I’m sorry those poor people were stupid enough to give their whereabouts away in the first place.”

Peter’s stomach turned. “How can you say that?”