by Nigel Planer
‘Naaoooo,’ she said, as if I was being really stupid — well, I was being really stupid. ‘I don’t mean songs. I mean why is Mummy alive and you, and Granny Joy, and Jasmine and Jasmine s mummy and Freddie and … robbers, and everybody in the whole world.’
‘Well, nobody really knows why. Lots of people think up things which might be true, but nobody actually knows.’
‘You know lots of things.’
‘Yes, but I don’t know everything. Even though you’re only five, there’s still some things you know that I don’t know.’
‘You mean like Teletubbies?’
‘Exactly. I’ve no idea what they are. I don’t know everything, you see.’
She paused to consider this deeply, and then suddenly jumped like Archimedes.
‘Hey! I just thought! Maybe we all just fell alive. And then we couldn’t get back.’
‘Yes, that could be it. We fell alive, and now we’re stuck here.’
Solving the central problem of the universe seemed to satisfy her totally, and we lapsed into thoughtful silence again. In the street below some Hooray Henrys were pranking around slamming car doors, and girls were laughing loudly, but that sound was separate from our peace. Grace trusted me that this was home.
‘Daddy?’ she said again.
‘Mmmm?’ I said nonchalantly, so as to induce torpor.
‘Do you know what sex is?’ But I declined to answer.
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