“Wasn’t she always a loner even at Yellowstone?” Peter asked.

“Perhaps.”

“Well, don’t you know?”

“Not really,” said the sheriff, taking a sip. “She lived in another part of the park to Teddy and me. Although I hear she was a first responder to the twin towers that morning, so I suppose that must have something to do with her solitary nature.”

Peter caught the door before it had a chance to clack shut behind him. He gently pulled it to and the sheriff swilled his glass round and round. And even though the microwave didn’t stop whirring, silence fell over the trailer and suddenly Peter wondered if he’d done enough to make Marge realize he was just trying to be her friend. Either way, the thought of befriending her had become easier to tackle than the subject of Cooper.

“She was there that day?” he asked after a while.

The sheriff nodded. “She was a firefighter. She lost her partner Barbra, in the North Tower that day, too.”

“But—”

“I know. Hard to imagine who any of us were before all this, right?”

Peter nodded. “Right.”

“Those of us who are old enough have led two lives. And I have no doubt that going back will be harder on some than on others.”

“What about the old man in the workshop earlier?”

“Oh, don’t you worry about ol’ Walt.”

“But the envelope.”

“But Cooper?” said the sheriff holding Peter’s gaze. “More importantly.”

“Yes. Yes, I know. I—”

Peter glanced at Teddy, hoping for more conversation. But he was too busy staring at the microwave making waiting look busy. And it went so quiet that Peter even considered asking him why the seating was called a banquette even though he already knew the answer, just to get things going again. Anything but tackling Cooper’s intentions.

The sheriff shoved his arms into the sleeves of a cardigan and squeezed in behind the table, gesturing for Peter to do the same and soon the microwave pinged and Teddy proceeded to slop the brown contents of a Tupperware box across all three plates. They sat down to eat.

“So, do we need to talk about Cooper?” said the sheriff after a while.

“I don’t know.”

“Because I’m pretty sure I don’t need to point out to you how worried the government would be if news of that behaviour got back to them.”

Peter set his knife down and carried on pushing brown stuff around the plate with his fork. “He’s finding it hard, that’s all. It was my dream to come back to the world that was before, not his. And now it’s all happening so fast. I think he’s just angry and frustrated.”

“There’s no just about it.”

“He needs time.”