‘Do you like it?’ he asked her, gesturing at the theatre beyond.
She nodded.
‘Me too. I’ve always loved theatres.’ He crouched beside her. ‘I believe you heard that music earlier,’ he told her. ‘I’m sure there was dancing, too.’
She dipped her head, brow pinched.
This time, the urge he felt to pull her into his arms almost overwhelmed him.
‘There’s nothing wrong with you,’ he said. ‘There’s never been anything wrong with you.’
She swallowed.
‘Your mum’s told me all about you,’ he went on. ‘I know that where most people see houses, you can sometimes see fields. That you hear sounds, just like that music earlier, when everyone else hears nothing, and want to play with friends you can’t find. Two boys.’ He eyed her. ‘Is that right?’
Another nod.
‘Can you think where they are?’
‘I don’t know,’ she said, speaking at last, so quietly it was little more than a sigh. ‘I’ve lost them.’
‘No.’ He shook his head. ‘I’m sure you haven’t. I think they probably just can’t find their way here.’
Out of the corner of her eye, she looked at him. ‘What do you mean?’
‘I mean,’ he said,‘that very few people are as lucky as you. As us.’
She blinked.
‘There’s a reason I’ve always loved theatres,’ he said. ‘It’s because I see our world like one. The biggest theatre you canimagine.’ He mustered a smile. ‘You and me, and your mum, and nan and grandad, we live on a stage.’ He laid his hand on the sloping floor. ‘But our stage isn’t the only stage. I think that all over us, and through us, are thousands more, with this life, and this time, and endless others playing out over and over again, all of them just slightly,slightlydifferent.’
She frowned.
It was a lot for her to take in.
‘Think of us as being in a show,’ he said, trying a simpler tack. ‘A show that never stops, but keeps starting from the beginning, no performance exactly the same, with all these countless layers of other shows doing just the same. Most people don’t guess the other shows exist, because these –’ he flicked his head at the dark lanterns – ‘are lit up and pointed on them, blocking everything else out. But that doesn’t mean it isn’t all there.’ He paused, glancing over his shoulder at Belinda in the wings. She hadn’t moved, other than that she now had her hand to her throat. As their eyes met, she gave him a nod.
Keep going, she silently told him.
So, he kept going.
‘Sometimes my lanterns dim,’ he said. ‘When that happens, I can sense the other shows I’m part of. I …feel… the things I must do. But I think with you, your lanterns must switch off completely, so you get toseeother stages. I suspect you’ve been looking into someone else’s show.’
She stared at him.
He could see how hard she was working to process his words. He couldn’t imagine there were many children her age who’d even bother to try.
But she wasn’t like other children.
And he couldn’t stop himself any more. He reached for her hand, which she gave to him, so readily that he felt as though his heart might burst.
‘Why doesn’t it always happen?’ she asked.
‘Doesn’t it?’ he said.
‘No. When we go on visits, it stops.’
‘Like when you go to London, you mean, to see your mum?’
