“Hey!”
A very old Ben was walking across the room, his freckly arms held out in front of him in a strange clutching shape.
“Is that you?” he said to a shape of nothingness in the shadows that now turned its mustardy head, black soot rising from its matted hair, smoke drifting from its mouth. Things were getting mixed up. There were too many Stories loose. I hadn’t got time now to tie all the ends together as well as sorting out everything else! I’d got to cut out some of these things, before Wally the Caretaker swept me up with his broom of knives. I sort of wished and Mum came rushing in, wearing the Sister’s bright red coat, filling up the space with “happy” and “wonderful”, and “miracle” and “family”, as the room was cleared of phones and maps and boards.
“You can’t stay down here,”
