“We can put the food here,” said Silas. “It’s cool, and the food will keep longer.” He reached into the box, pulled out a banana.

“And what would that be when it was at home?” asked Mrs Owens, eyeing the yellow and brown object suspiciously.

“It’s a banana. A fruit, from the tropics. I believe you peel off the outer covering,” said Silas, “Like so.”

The child – Nobody – wriggled in Mrs Owens arms, and she let it down to the flagstones. It toddled rapidly to Silas, grasped his trouser-leg and held on.

Silas passed it the banana.

Mrs Owens watched the boy eat. “Ba-na-na,” she said, dubiously. “Never heard of them. Never. What’s it taste like?”

“I’ve absolutely no idea,” said Silas, who consumed only one food, and it was not bananas. “You could make up a bed in here for the boy, you know.”

A banana peel discarded among tombstones and crypts.