“There’s that man again … ” Mrs. Munroe’s eyes narrow dangerously. She doesn’t like vagabonds and other ‘derelicts’ on her property. Especially not when her property is her business. I try not to notice as I scramble to salvage some greasy—oily fish and chips for the Danish backpacker who’s already been waiting too long. “Here…

“I dreamt last night tha’ we got hit by an atom bomb…” “Och, Carrie, do nae be daft…” “I’m nae being daft, Siné! I really dreamt it.” “So – wha’ happened? Did we all die, then?” “Well, if ye get hit by an atom bomb there’s nae many ways ye can bloody survive, are there?”