A Ladder to the Sky

by John Boyne

London.’ ‘Probably for the best,’ he replied, before waving a hand in the air as he turned his back on us. ‘Goodbye, my boy. I daresay we won’t meet again.’ I watched him as he walked away and felt torn between laughter and confusion. ‘Cantankerous old swine,’ you muttered. ‘He was in love with me once.’ ‘Really?’ I asked. ‘It does happen.’ ‘Well I, of all people, know that,’ I said, smiling at you. ‘You let him down easily, I hope?’ ‘It’s all so long ago, I can barely remember. Anyway, what time is it? Let’s take a walk around the site. I wouldn’t mind having a look in the bookshop.’ I nodded, following you as you stepped outside. Dash Hardy died shortly afterwards, didn’t he? I remember reading about it in the newspaper over breakfast one morning and feeling shocked that someone who had sat with me so recently could have hanged himself in his Manhattan apartment. You read the article too but said nothing about it, although