Instantly, there was silence. My first thought was that a combination of Chali, her silver-foil bikini and her wrestling with Roger over the plug socket had caused some ghastly accident. But it soon became clear this wasn’t the case; she was staring around as confusedly as we were. It wasn’t Candice, because she was still screaming into her mobile phone about helicopters and riot gear. Dr Hitler had reached out when the scream came and managed to grab one of the gnome army. She hadn’t let go. I looked slowly around the room. By the first bed, Carl’s mother was gesticulating and shaking.
We moved towards her.
‘He opened his eyes!’ she said. ‘He opened his eyes!’
A very perplexed-looking teenager was taking in the world around him.
‘Is it Christmas?’ he was saying groggily. ‘Have I been out until Christmas?’
‘No, no, it’s only June,’ a nurse reassured him.
‘Oh, thank God,’ he said.
‘Of course, you missed last Christmas …’ the nurse added.
Candice raced towards the scene at the speed of light.
‘Did you get that?’ she screeched at the cameramen. They nodded. ‘Right. Fine. We can dub some real carol music over it later.’
She sat down beside Carl and switched on her beaming smile like headlights.
‘So, viewers, we have indeed witnessed a miracle here. Through the healing power of music – and who knows what little sprinkle of Babbleon TV magic – Carl here has been returned to us! So, Carl, how do you feel?’
‘Ehm … Terrible … like, you know, really bad, yes,’ said Carl.
‘Shit,’ I said, slumping next to Addison. ‘Shit shit shit shit shit.’
‘Holly, don’t worry,’ soothed Josh.
‘How can I not worry? That was our last hope.’
‘Don’t be silly. No hope is the last hope. And, anyway, Sophie hasn’t handed over the money yet.’
I shrugged.
‘I don’t see what good that’s going to do.’
‘There might be new treatments, new ways …’
‘We might as well just face facts, Josh. He was mine, and now he’s gone. Could you leave me alone for a bit, please?’
‘OK then.’ He got up and started to walk away.
‘Ehm … I didn’t mean for you to actually go.’
‘Oh, no, of course you didn’t. Hang on.’
He sat back down beside me and put his arm around me in a comforting way. Sophie was remonstrating with Roger and Candice, who looked to be giving in.
‘OK, everyone,’ said Roger finally through his megaphone. He seemed to have aged about ten years. Of course, all the staff were still around Carl’s bed, but he waited until they turned back to him. ‘We will now have a short presentation of a cheque to the high-dependency unit of St Hugh’s from Sophie Masterton-Willis LLB.’
‘Do you want some background music?’ shouted one of the Spangles, to some guffawing.
Smiling graciously, Sophie snatched Candice’s microphone and walked dead centre into the middle of the ward. The cameraman trained his camera on her alone.
‘Thank you all so much for coming,’ she said. ‘Under this government, hospitals have been sadly neglected. That is why the private sector, as well as the charity of good people like myself, is needed to bolster up the whole sorry structure – which, of course, we all hope will eventually lead to an entirely private system that can remove this wretched burden from humble taxpayers.’
Josh nudged me. There, hanging back at the entrance to the ward, was Kate, looking uncharacteristically shifty.
‘She came!’ said Josh. ‘Shame she missed the best bit!’
Kate appeared to be beckoning some people up the stairs, putting a finger to her lips.
‘And that is why I, Sophie Masterton-Willis LLB, have decided to donate to St Hugh’s the sum of –’ Sophie held up the enormous cheque – ‘fifty thousand pounds!’ She raised her arms triumphantly, waiting for the round of applause.
Quick as a flash Kate entered with, as I counted, one two three four five six Jameses. They lined up behind Sophie, in full view of the camera.
‘Now!’ shouted Kate.
Six Jameses lowered their expensive Savile Row trousers and Calvin Klein boxer shorts, revealing six skinny white British arses to the camera, and waggling them about vigorously.
Instantly, there was a storm of applause. Sophie smiled graciously and bowed towards the camera. The Jameses waggled their arses even more fervently.
‘Excellent,’ said Kate. ‘You all keep your jobs.’
As the applause continued, Sophie’s smile began to waver. When it sank in that the eyes of the crowd weren’t exactly on her, the grin disappeared altogether and she slowly looked round.
She went dangerously pale.
‘Can we stop now?’ one of the Jameses was saying. ‘All the blood is rushing to my head.’
‘You … you …’ Sophie said to Kate. Then her face twisted. ‘But … but why?’
Kate stood up straight and trembled. The camera swivelled so it was trained on both of them. Kate took a deep breath, paused, and then opened her mouth.
‘Well, Sophie, one reason …’ she said in a wobbly voice, ‘is because you’re a big evil fascist.’
‘Nothing wrong with that,’ said Sophie.
‘And the other is … that you’re stealing the man I’m in love with and being horrible to him!’ Kate’s voice went very high at this and finished off in a bit of a squeak.
There was a gasp from the crowd. I glanced at Josh. His face was a picture of confusion as he tried to work out who she meant.
‘What?’ said Sophie. But it was too late. Kate was striding across the ward to Josh. He looked at her for a few seconds.
‘What … what, me?’ he asked in disbelief.
‘Why do you think I live in your shitty, awful flat, you moron?’ said Kate, biting her lip.
‘I quite like it,’ said Josh.
‘Do you quite like me?’ asked Kate quietly.
‘Cor! Yeah!’ said Josh.
‘Oh for fuck’s sake!’ said Sophie. ‘I was going to marry him, you idiot. Perfect constituency wife he’d have made. Scones for the village fair and everything.’
‘Well you can’t,’ said Kate, kissing him.
‘This is definitely my week,’ said Josh, kissing her back.
Sophie paused and looked around her.
‘Well, fuck you all very much,’ she said. And she ripped up the enormous cheque, leaving it in pieces on the floor, then stomped out of the ward.
‘Oh my God! The money!’ shouted Josh. Everyone looked horrified. Then one of the Jameses picked up a piece of the cheque.
‘Fifty thou? Was that all?’ he chuckled. ‘God, that wouldn’t even make a dent in our bonuses, would it, boys?’
‘Not likely!’ They started pulling out their cheque books.
‘Well, I’m giving ten.’
‘You limpdick! I’m giving fifteen!’
‘You utter homosexual! I’m giving twenty!’
‘Just a thought,’ said Dr Hitler, ‘but does anyone mind if I give the patients their anti-dying medication now?’
An hour later, things were getting back to relative normality, although no one had taken the Christmas tree down.
The camera crew had left with Candice, utterly jubilant, clutching Roger’s arm and whispering, ‘BAFTA, darling, no doubt about it at all.’
I apologized to Chali that she didn’t get to play more of her songs, but she brushed it off, saying that Dr Hitler had asked them to play the doctors’ summer do, and that they were definitely on their way this time.
Kate and Josh had disappeared somewhere, so I didn’t want to turn up at home too quickly.
There was lots of fuss at Carl’s end of the hall, which meant that God and Addison and I were left to our own devices, but I didn’t think I had many more devices to give. I simply sat there, staring out of the window, humming a made-up song to myself, trying to ignore my rising panic.
At about four o’clock, Finn popped his head round the curtain.
‘Did I miss it all?’ he said.
I nodded.
‘Kate made me promise to come, but I really, honestly wanted to stay out of the way of the mooning.’
‘Why? Have you got a mutant arse?’
‘No! I think I’ve got quite a nice arse.’
‘Turn around,’ I ordered. He did so. He did, in fact, have a lovely arse.
‘I just don’t like shoving it in people’s faces, if you know what I mean.’
‘You mean, you don’t like getting your arse out on national television?’
‘Something like that.’
‘You are weird.’
He looked at Addison.
‘So, no change then.’
I shook my head. ‘Oh, Finn. Why the hell couldn’t you be a medical doctor? Why the hell couldn’t you have trained to sort this out?’
‘I don’t know,’ he said. ‘I’d change it if I could, I promise you.’
‘Would you … I mean, would you like to go for a drink or something?’
‘Of course not,’ I sniffed.
‘No, of course not. OK. Maybe I should go.’
‘Maybe you should.’
‘I’m sorry, Holl.’
‘Everyone’s sorry,’ I said. ‘Nobody helps.’
Home was empty. I made myself five jam sandwiches and sat by myself on the fire escape eating them slowly. I felt completely wrung out, and toyed with the idea of sleeping in – after all, I’d probably lost my job. But when it came to it, I couldn’t.
The next morning Chali was waiting by the door of That Special Someone beaming broadly as I wheeled up.
‘What are you doing here at this time?’ I asked incredulously – it was only twenty-five minutes after the shop was due to open.
‘Ding dong!’ she shouted. ‘The witch is dead!’
‘Which witch?’ I asked.
‘The wicked witch! Ding! Dong! The wicked witch is dead!’
Chali took my bike off me and proudly led it into the shop.
‘Wake up, you sleepyhead! Rub your eyes, get out of bed!’
‘OK, OK,’ I said. ‘I get it!’
‘Ding! Dong!…’
‘I get it. What happened?’
‘Well,’ said Chali, measuring out two disgustingly large spoonsful of coffee from Mrs Bigelow’s private stash and ripping open a forbidden packet of bourbons with her teeth, ‘this little boy came in the shop yesterday, right, with Biggers in charge? Turned out one of his friends had been run over by a car. And he didn’t have enough money to pay the delivery charge.’
‘No way,’ I said.
‘Utterly way. So, anyhow, Biggie told him he couldn’t have the flowers, and it turns out his father owns a whole chain of conferencing suites.’
I shook my head in disbelief.
‘And?’
‘And, the dad phones my uncle and … she’s gone! Gone gone gone! See, I told you that strike was a good idea.’
‘Yes, good meaning “lucky” rather than “moral” or anything,’ I grumbled, hauling out the displays.
‘But don’t you see? My uncle’s given me the shop! It’s ours! You can run it when I’m off doing world tours!’
‘Which will be never,’ I said, straightening up. ‘Still, that’s really good, isn’t it?’
Chali nodded enthusiastically.
‘I mean, we could really make something of this place,’ I said, warming to it. After all, if my love life was over for all time, I was going to have to throw myself into my career. ‘We could start doing trendier events … try and get into, you know, Hello! magazine and stuff like that. Send free samplers off. Start a mailing list …’
‘Ah,’ said Chali, ‘actually I was rather hoping that it would mean even more slacking off for us.’
‘No, no. We could really go places with this place.’
‘Do you think the band could play here? So it could be like a flower shop-cum-gig? Kind of a place for the kids to hang out.’
‘That’, I said, ‘is just about the worst business idea I’ve ever heard.’
Her face fell.
‘OK, what about we grow opium poppies here and pretend we’re selling flowers?’
‘Actually, now I think about it, maybe you were on to a winner with that gig/flowers thing.’
‘Yeh?’
‘Yeh. It’ll be brilliant.’
‘I know,’ she said. ‘And now, as a celebratory gesture, I’m going to shut the shop for a day.’
‘You’re going to shut the shop on our first day of business?’
‘I’m a very positive employer.’
‘You’re a very optimistic employer.’
‘Well, I’m an employer with a rehearsal to go to. It’s my new band, made up of tramps playing cardboard percussion instruments. Apparently MTV think it’s the new big thing.’
‘And a homeless tramp told you this, did he?’
‘Uh huh.’
‘OK. Where are you rehearsing?’
‘King’s Cross …’
She got sight of the look on my face.
‘Huh. Well you won’t be grinning when we’re playing Wembley.’
‘Not unless I’m doing the flowers.’
‘Tramps don’t like flowers. Unless there’s nothing else to eat.’
It was only eleven o’clock in the morning. What exactly did I do with myself before all this, I wondered? Maybe I knew a lot about Hollyoaks. I slalomed wearily into the hospital, carrying a copy of SFX, the magazine for lonely boys.
The smell of disinfectant seemed to be weighing me down. After the uproar of yesterday, even the corridors seemed quiet. Sighing loudly, I flounced through the doors. Addison was sitting up on the end of the bed.
I turned round and walked straight back out to find the right ward.
I stopped, smacked my head then turned around and walked in again.
My heart and my throat started fighting each other.
My throat won.
‘ADDISON!’ I screamed at the top of my voice and threw myself pell-mell towards him.
He looked up with a confused expression on his face.
‘Hey, Speedy Gonzales,’ said Stephen, deftly catching the back of my dungarees. ‘If you knock him over again I will have to kill you.’
‘Bha baha baha haha …’ I said, arms flailing. Addison continued to regard me steadily. I couldn’t read the expression on his face. Stephen put a restraining hand on my arm.
‘Buh huh huh huh,’ I spluttered.
‘Cnif Yarh Bah F!!!’ I shouted as, slowly, from behind the curtain, a large – very large – figure emerged, and put a mirror-image protective hand on Addison’s arm.
‘Clahf … Clahff.’
‘Do you need a paper bag to breathe into?’ asked Stephen.
I struggled to regain control of myself.
‘That’s … that’s Claudia!’ I announced, panting desperately.
‘Claudia Finkelman; yes. Apparently so,’ said Stephen. ‘She arrived about three o’clock this morning, sat with him, and … well.’
‘Oh God!’ I said. ‘That’s … that is so unfair!’
‘Do you want to hear how he is or not?’
‘Oh God,’ I said again. ‘Yes. Of course. I hate myself.’
‘Put a brave face on it,’ said Stephen. ‘The physio and the neurologist have both checked him over, and it’s not too bad. He’ll have a bit of short-term memory loss, and his muscles will need to get used to not being asleep, but, on the whole, it’s looking pretty good.’
As we were talking, I was taking little baby steps closer to the bed. Now I was close enough to speak.
‘So, be brave,’ Stephen whispered in my ear.
‘Hey,’ I said bravely.
‘Hello,’ said Claudia. And not in a friendly way either. In real life she was, if anything, freakier than on the computer. She was that big way only Americans get: so heavy it’s as if your legs are pointing in the wrong direction from the knees downwards. Her hair was pinned back with two kirby grips, and her spectacles were huge, Deirdre Barlow-style. She was wearing an outsized Red Dwarf T-shirt.
‘Hey,’ said Addison, turning his big brown eyes on me.
I took another step towards him. Claudia hovered protectively.
‘How are you feeling?’ I asked, trying to control my quavery voice.
‘Sticky,’ he said.
I nodded. ‘Here – I brought you this.’ And handed him SFX, not knowing quite what else to do.
‘Oh, great – I love this. Look, Claudia, there’s an article on number science.’
‘Is it an imaginary one?’ she replied, and they both sniggered for some reason. I held on to the back of a chair for support.
‘So …’ I said. ‘I mean, what happened?’
‘I couldn’t … you know,’ said Claudia, ‘just stand by while no one did anything for Add.’
I nodded my head gravely.
‘You know, this is my first time out of the house in six years. And I made it to a different country.’
‘You were very brave,’ I said, through gritted teeth.
‘I know.’
‘Then what happened?’
‘Well, I flew over, and arrived last night, and they let me in.’
I wouldn’t keep out a monster that arrived at three o’clock in the morning, would you? I tried to quell such uncharitable thoughts, but it was impossible. My whole body felt hollowed out by misery. I wanted to take Addison’s place on the bed and lose consciousness for a few months or so. It would definitely be easier than dealing with this. Hook me up, and wake me in time for one of those lovely global-warming summers we’re always being promised.
‘And I sang you your favourite song, didn’t I, sweetheart?’
Addison looked faintly bashful.
‘Which is?’ I asked politely.
‘Oh, a wunnerful British band called Take That. They’ve got a little song called “Back for Good”? I don’t know if you’ve heard of it.’
‘No, I’ve never heard of it,’ I said quietly.
‘Well, it’s our song, isn’t it, sweet pea?’
Addison shrugged and nodded.
‘When you were … asleep,’ I said, taking a deep breath, ‘did you … did you know anything that was going on around you?’
He shook his head. ‘Sorry, no. They told me you came to see me a lot.’
‘Oh well, I popped in now and again. It’s just as well you didn’t hear me, really. Usually I was telling you how big your nose was.’
‘She was vicious,’ said Stephen, backing me up.
‘When’s Magda getting back from the phone? Does she have to inform every single one of your Croatian relatives?’ asked Claudia. ‘We’re moving,’ she informed me.
‘Where?’ I said, my Misery fears resurfacing.
‘I can’t walk very well,’ said Addison. ‘Claudia’s putting me in a private hospital to rehabilitate.’
‘I figured the food in here was probably bad enough through a tube without having to stick it in your mouth for four weeks,’ said Claudia. ‘And they need the bed here.’
‘That’s good of you,’ I said, because it was.
‘Well, he’s my problem now,’ she said, trying to make a joke out of it. ‘And it saves on hotel costs if they’ll let me stay in the room.’
Had I been a better person, I would have offered her Addison’s room. I’m not.
Stephen insisted he was taking me to the pub for a brandy when he came off shift at lunchtime, so I had to stand back and wait while they packed everything up, trying desperately to hold on to my tears until they had all gone. ‘I have a flower shop,’ I told myself fiercely.
Magda was a different person, laughing and crying simultaneously, covering Addison in kisses every time he blinked. She and Claudia went on ahead with the carefully packed Star Wars miniatures, whilst a porter loaded Add into a wheelchair and began to transfer him to what was presumably a luxury ambulance.
‘Well, I guess we’ll see you soon,’ I muttered.
‘We?’ said Addison, turning round.
‘Uhm … yeah, me and Han Solo.’ I took the figure out of my bag. ‘We’ve been working together on this one.’
Addison hesitated.
‘I didn’t want to say this in front of Claudia,’ he began, slowly reversing his wheelchair until he was next to me, ‘but sometimes, when I was … asleep … things swam in and out … It was like diving very deep down in the ocean, down further than the fish and the submarines.’
‘Like in The Abyss?’ I suggested.
‘The director’s cut?’
‘But of course.’
He half smiled, then took a deep breath and went on:
‘And occasionally, I surfaced. And when I surfaced, you were always there.’ He paused and looked away. ‘And I did call out to you.’
I leaned over him and stroked his hair.
‘Not loudly enough,’ I said, the tears welling up.
‘You were too far away,’ he said, his own eyes watering. He kept his face turned away and rubbed his forehead fiercely. ‘You were swimming in a different sea.’
I hugged him and let my tears run through his hair.
‘Oh, Add,’ I said. ‘I’m so sorry.’
‘No, I am,’ he said.
‘No, I am.’
He shook his head, and for a time we couldn’t speak.
‘I think Moby Dick’s waiting for you,’ I said finally, swallowing hard and glancing towards the door.
He followed my gaze, then took my hand.
‘It’s … it’s hard to explain,’ he said.
‘Same sea?’
He shrugged. ‘Same universe, maybe.’
I handed him Han Solo. ‘Well, better take him with you. He’s very good for people in sticky spots.’
‘I’ll remember that,’ he said.
‘Ehm, sorry but, like, the meter’s running,’ said the porter.
‘Sure,’ I choked, and let Add go. Behind me, the nurses were already expertly stripping the bed, wheeling away the tubes and the wires. I waited till they’d finished, then sat on the bed to wait for Stephen, feeling the springs under my hands. I still wanted to curl up on it. It felt like all I had left.
‘We’re going to be needing that bed,’ warned Dr Hitler, flitting past me.
‘God?’ I whispered.
There was no answer.
‘God? Really, I could do with a bit of spiritual guidance right now.’
There was a snorty sound from the next bed.
‘God?’
God was lying flat out on the bed with an oxygen mask on. He was very grey and shrunken.
‘God?’
He feebly motioned for me to take his oxygen mask off. I checked around for Dr Hitler, then, when she was nowhere to be seen, did so.
‘How are you?’
‘God is dead,’ he said, every syllable coming with a very nasty rattle.
‘Don’t be ridiculous! Come on, do a miracle.’
‘I did one,’ he said laboriously. ‘Sorry it didn’t make you happy.’
‘Oh that,’ I said. ‘Never mind, eh? Just make yourself better.’
‘Not a lot of point in that,’ he said. ‘The world’s a pile of shit.’
‘Well, that’s true,’ I reflected. ‘But still …’
‘Neh,’ he said. ‘I tell you what I’d love, though …’
Fuck it, I thought, and opened his locker. Sure enough, there was a half-bottle of old-looking Scotch inside.
‘I’m not putting it down your feeding tube, though,’ I warned him. ‘I may be a disaster area, but I’m not a murderer.’
‘No, that’ll be fine. Just lift me up a little … that’s it. Would you like some?’
‘I wouldn’t mind.’
So I took a swig, then very carefully held up his head and let God sip a few drops, which he did with a bit of coughing, but eventually he managed to get some down.
‘Oh, better,’ he said. ‘Well, I think it’s just about time I was popping off.’
‘Don’t you have any family you want me to contact?’ I asked, stupefied.
‘Every living thing is my family,’ he said. ‘Besides, they all fucked off to Australia.’
He snuffled a bit more and settled down in the pillows. I sat with him and let him have sips of whisky as often as he could manage them.
‘You should go now, lass,’ he said. ‘I think you’ve a life to be getting on with.’
‘I’m not sure I feel like it at the moment.’
‘No. But do you want a last bit of advice from the mouth of the creator himself?’
‘Yes please.’
‘Hmm.’ He appeared to fall asleep for a second, then woke up with a grunt.
‘Hmm … advice. Right. Ehm, wear sunscreen?’
‘I think that’s been done.’
‘No, really? Hmm.’ He launched into one of his deathly coughing fits. ‘How about – love they neighbour?’
‘I adored your neighbour,’ I said sadly. ‘Didn’t help me much.’
‘Yes, right, right, I see.’
He paused again.
‘Goodbye,’ he said quietly. And suddenly, the terrible wheezing stopped. An instant later, one of his machines let out an alarm.
‘DOCTOR!’ I yelled, leaping up.
‘Are you squatting here?’ asked Dr Hitler, throwing herself up the ward behind the crash cart.
‘No …’
‘Well, please, could you leave? I’m not sure you’re a good influence. But if you see that fat girl again, could you send her back in?’
I ran out of the ward, blinded. Stephen wasn’t around, but I had to get out. I stumbled through the corridors, realizing that people were looking after me with concern. I pushed past them all.
‘Hey!’ shouted a familiar voice. I ran on.
‘Hey!’
‘Leave me alone,’ I shouted and ran on. It quickly became obvious that someone faster than me was chasing me. I made it as far as the bicycle but couldn’t undo the lock in time.
‘Physically chasing women,’ said Finn, out of breath, leaning his hand on the wall in front of me, ‘there’s a new macho experience for me. Would you like me to go and wrestle a bear now?’
I straightened up slowly and shook my head.
‘What’s the matter? Magda phoned Kate at work … Oh.’
I welled up.
‘It was that other girl, wasn’t it?’
‘It’s fine,’ I said chokingly. ‘It’s better than fine, actually. It’s great. I mean, he’s alive. He’s OK. At least … well, at least I won’t be going to prison for manslaughter.’
He nodded. ‘Always something, I suppose.’
I bent down again to try and unlock my bike.
‘Where are you going now?’
‘I don’t know,’ I confessed.
‘Huh,’ he said. Then, after a pause: ‘Would you like to come with me?’
‘Where are you going?’ I asked timidly.
‘Well, it’s a beautiful day, so how about staying inside and reading improving captions?’
‘That sounds all right,’ I said.
‘The Science Museum?’
I nodded.
He held out his hand and I took it.
The Science Museum was practically deserted, and eerily, stunningly beautiful. I wandered through the massive atrium, hitting knobs at random and fiddling with things. Finn regarded me calmly.
‘Did Madeleine get you in cheap for this too?’ I asked, in what I thought was a deeply casual manner.
He laughed. ‘I don’t really see her …’
I looked at him. ‘Were you ever seeing her?’
He shrugged. ‘Not … maybe not as much as I mentioned her in your company.’
I stared at him in consternation.
‘Sorry … sorry, am I getting this straight? Were you using a cell mitosis biologist to try and make me jealous??’
‘Did it work?’ he asked.
‘Well, you know … yeah.’
He twisted slightly nervously.
‘Holl, I don’t … I mean … if you’re still in love with Addison, I wouldn’t want to ask you out or anything …’
I pushed a big red button that made lots of lights twinkle on and off behind us.
‘I think …’ I said shyly – examining my reasons for doing things was never one of my favourite jobs – ‘I think, maybe I was just in love with an idea of him.’
‘I think so too,’ said Finn, doing something very clever to the machine, so the lights made pretty sparkling patterns.
‘Sometimes,’ I went on, ‘maybe the things you really want are …’
‘A bit boring and nerdy?’ He brushed his gorgeous dark hair out of his gorgeous dark eyes.
‘Closer than you think.’ I seemed to remember saying that before. ‘Oh wow!’ I announced, struck suddenly. ‘I don’t need to pretend to know lots about Star Trek any more!’
‘And you already know lots about spaghetti.’
‘Well, I certainly eat a lot of it.’
‘That’s what I meant.’
‘Wow. Do you think I could have a true scientific heart?’
‘I think,’ mumbled Finn, looking down, ‘you could have this true scientific heart.’
We wandered hand in hand, feeling as small as children, across the Perspex bridge over the massive vaulted Victorian hall, looking on all the great machines and massive works that filled the space.
‘That reminds me,’ I said, gazing out over it all, ‘I meant to tell you before: God died this morning.’
‘Oh, I don’t think he did really,’ said Finn, leaning out with me. ‘He’s probably just off playing dice somewhere.’