But Mouse. Still unable to catch on to sleep. Staring out at the clouds racing and the moon watching, as if the sky is fleeing. Finally falling into a dirty, scrappy, dishwater slumber and tossing and turning, his notebook splayed beside him.
Soli says we’re here for our safety Right. That Mum and Dad couldn’t tell us because we never would have gone with B, never would have left them. But too huge in my head is Mum’s watery ‘mmm’ when I asked her once if B was our friend. ‘Your father thinks so, yes.’ Too huge in my head is Mum saying, then again perhaps he’s an angel; what does she know? Perhaps he’s cleaving into our family for warmth because he doesn’t have any family himself. Too huge in my head is Dad chattering on about how we should always be kind to other people because we never know when we’re entertaining angels unaware. Too huge in my head is Mum spinning Tidge around and lifting his shirt and holding his shoulder blades and saying, ‘See, look, this is where our angel’s wings once were,’ then sliding her hands around his tummy and keeping them there for a very long time and bowing her head, and going very still.
She’s here. Close.
Then a spirit passed before my face and the hair of my flesh stood up.