‘Enough’ said a distant voice deep down inside the hole that is Mac’s heart and the old man surprised himself by smiling. ‘You foolish fool,’ he sighed. ‘Still doing what you do best, I see.’

For Mac had inherited a sceptic’s eye from his father but time and habit and heartbreak had forced this eye in on itself where it had eventually transfigured into solid doubt.

‘And what are you going to do now?’ Mac asked himself. ‘Enough with your standing and waiting and watching.’

‘Enough.’