by Liz Jensen
—No. Maybe. I don’t know.
He doesn’t say anything for a long time. I can’t see him any more, did I tell you that? Ever since we went to the cave together and he showed me my name and the name Catherine in blood on the wall and unwrapped his bandages so I could see his face for the last time, I’ve lost him. He’s just a voice in my head now, like a dream.
—It depends how curious you are about what comes next, he says. —There might be good things. You know, by the time I’d been stuck in that cave for three days, I wasn’t curious, I just wanted it to end. It’s different for you.
—The rest of life might suck, too.
—It might, said Papa. —And it might not. But there’s a way back, if you want it, you know that.
—And you?
—I have to stay here.
—So you’re dead?
—I thought you knew. With all the things you know ... all your Amazing Animals Facts and your poisons and the way you follow the instructions when we’re making aeroplanes ... I thought you knew, Lou-Lou. I died in the cave. Think about the world, Young Sir. Think about how it might not suck. But we have to say goodbye now. It’s time.
And I turn my head to the window. You can feel it getting light outside and you can hear birds. Seagulls. And I know he isn’t lying to me because he’s the only one who never did. And I know something else. I know that one day, if I want to, I can do it. I can take one step forward.
And then another.
Acknowledgements
I would like to thank The Authors’ Foundation and the Arts Council of Great Britain for awarding me grants that allowed me the space and time to write this novel. I am also grateful to Paul Broks for his book Into the Silent Land, and to Clare Alexander, Gail Campbell, Polly Coles, Gina de Ferrer, Humphrey Hawksley, Carsten Jensen, and Kitty and John Sewell for their comments, support and advice on the manuscript.