The sky was clear the night we let Leonard out for fresh air, for a taste of the outside, to prepare to send him home. A cool, clear night. Dad was asleep on the sofa. Mum was in the bath.

We needed to be quiet; Ned was meant to be warm and safe inside, but was coming out for fresh air and a taste of the outside too.

When we peered into the garage, Leonard’s eyes were vast. They glowed in the gloom. A soft light.

“Come on, Len,” Ned said from the door. “Come outside. Move out of the way, Jamie.”

I stepped back out of the garage and retreated to the garden fence, bordering the cliff. The cliff that fell down, down to the sea, the channel. The moon shone and its light rippled across the calm sea. In the quiet, in the night, you could hear the waves crashing on the rocks below.

“Come on,” Ned whispered again to the merman.

It was dark. Just the moon’s beams and the light that escaped the bathroom window above showed Leonard peering from the back door. He smiled and breathed in deep.

“This is our garden,” Ned said.

With that Leonard sprang. Three leaps and he was beside me, perched on the fence. He no longer wore the makeshift sling.

Ned barked a laugh and a cough.

Leonard clicked and gurgled and gazed down at the sea below.

“Home,” I whispered, nodding.

Ned wheezed up beside us. “Did you see that? Amazing. If I could move like that…You’re amazing, Leonard.”

I stared at my brother as he stared at the fish-man, who stared out at the sea.

My brother’s words rang in my ears—“our last adventure.” I wanted it over. Hope was gone and something like fear was creeping in.

“We’ve got to let him go home, Ned,” I whispered. “We can’t keep him.”

My brother looked up at me. “Not yet, Jamie. It’s not time. Not yet.”

“Soon,” I whispered.

“Soon.”

As we stood in the cool night, Leonard began to sing. Quietly at first. The notes collided with the sounds of the waves below, and like the sky and sea on a clear day, it was hard to know where one began and the other ended. We stood and listened a long time. Leonard smiled and sang. Ned smiled and hummed. My brother’s tune joined with the merman’s and with the lapping sea. If the song had not filled my mind, I would have thought of another song, on a boat, in a beautiful cove: Perla’s parting song.

I was on the outside of that sound, looking in, as the song went on and on into the distance and into the future. Leonard sang and Ned opened his mouth and sang. It was not two songs but one song with two singers. There was no part in it for me. For a moment that fear became a thought—I was losing my brother.

Suddenly a voice broke the night air and the song stopped. “What you got there, boys?”

I whipped round. Ned stepped in front of Leonard. We expected to see Mum in her dressing gown, calling from the back door. The light was still on in the bathroom. But from over the fence next door, one point of orange glowed—Mrs. Clarke’s cigarette.

“Is that a cat?” our neighbor croaked.

“Yeah,” my brother called back. “It’s…er…a cat, Mrs. Clarke.”

“That ain’t no cat.”

“Erm…,” I said, and glanced over my shoulder at Leonard.

“It is. It’s one of them…What is it called, Jamie? Hairless cats, Mrs. Clarke.”

“Siamese cat,” I called.

The glowing cigarette waved in the air. Our neighbor’s mutters were lost in the gap between us. As my eyes adjusted, I began to see the roses, the reds and pinks, turned black and purple in the night, and the old lady, leaning over our fence.

“Bring it here then,” Mrs. Clarke called.

I glanced up at the bathroom window, where Mum was not to be disturbed.

“Let’s see this cat,” she shouted.

I searched for an excuse.

Ned spoke first. “It’s gone. It ran off when you yelled.”

I glanced back again and could see Ned wasn’t lying; Leonard was gone.

The bathroom light switched off as Mrs. Clarke went back to her muttering. The back door swung open.

“Ned, what are you doing out here?” Mum called to us, then she saw our neighbor. “Oh, sorry, Mrs. Clarke,” she said.

“Have you got a cat?” the old lady asked.

“A cat?”

“Ned says you’ve got a Siamese cat.”

Ned coughed. All eyes were on him. The cough became a fit. Mum hurried over. Her dressing gown held tight as it tried to stream out behind her.

“Not our cat,” Ned spluttered. His foot flicked out and kicked my shin.

“No…erm…it was just here. It’s gone.”

“They were singing with it,” Mrs. Clarke called.

Mum stroked Ned’s back. She looked at me. Her eyes narrowed. “Get inside, boys. I’ll talk to the old…our dear neighbor,” she whispered just for us.

“It didn’t look much like a cat,” Mrs. Clarke said.

Mum’s lips were thin, her eyebrow drawn. “Inside.”

Ned coughed all the way in. He coughed as we sat at the table and waited. He coughed as I whispered to him that Mum would find Leonard. He shook his head as he coughed.

“What do you think you were doing?” Mum asked, still angry, when she returned from the garden.

She hadn’t found him. If she had, she’d be asking about the merman. Ned still coughed. It was left to me to lie.

“It was just a cat.”

“I don’t care about the cat. Why, why would you be outside? In the cold. In the dark.” Mum stroked Ned’s back. His coughing stopped as he spat into a handkerchief that Mum held out.

—

Later, in our bedroom, after Mum had stopped shouting and crying and telling me I had to look after my brother, Ned was by the window, staring. I knew why he sat so silent. He was listening for Leonard’s song, for their song.

We sat in silence but for the sound of the waves and the gentle grunt of Dad’s snoring downstairs. The television went on. The nine o’clock news. Somewhere on the street a door closed.

“I’m going to find him,” Ned said.

“What?”

“I’m going out.” Ned pulled his jumper tight. “Pass me my coat.”

“You heard what Mum said,” I hissed.

Ned left the window and fetched his coat himself. He zipped it to the top. “You coming?”

“I…,” I said. “Hang on. Listen.”

We stopped again, still and silent. And there it was. Mixed with the sound of crashing waves. Leonard’s song. Ned sighed. It sounded like our friend had found his way back to the garage.

My face became all frown. “We’ve got to send him home, Ned,” I said.

“It’s not time yet. I’m going to check he’s OK.”

“You can’t!” I whispered. “If you’re going, you’re going alone.” I sat on the edge of the bed.

Ned stared at me, then nodded. “OK,” he said. “I’ll go alone.”