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It was not so much being alone as not being there for someone. She had become so deeply sad from waking up in the morning knowing that she could stay in bed all day and it would not make any difference to anybody.
Harry shook his head. ‘I did it at night. All on my own.’ Oleg groaned. ‘What’s the point of that? What’s the point of being brave if no-one sees you . . .?’ ‘I wonder about that too now and then.’
Wilhelm’s smile reminded Harry of his father’s sad, resigned smile, the smile of a man looking backwards because that’s where the things that made him smile were.
‘I’ve come to realise that falling and living have certain things in common. For a start, both are very temporary states of being.’
The screams subsided, like fading echoes. He floated away. They were right. He was never there when it mattered. He made sure he was elsewhere. Packed his case. Opened a bottle. Locked the door. Became scared. Went blind. They were always right. And if they weren’t, they would be.
