Part 13 (1/2)

'You just thought it would be nice to take a few pictures to help make you famous and then dump me?'

Her eyes narrowed. 'You know that's not true.'

'Do I?' His voice took on a pleading tone. 'Couldn't you try to be in love with me, just a little? I wouldn't be nearly so crazy if I knew you were in love with me.'

'You can turn it on and off?'

'That's not what I meant.'

'I know it's not. But look at yourself, Justin, you're bouncing around like a ping-pong ball. I can't save you, there aren't enough hours in the day. You'll get through it, I'm sure you will. You just need lots of time. Peace and quiet. Nothing to confuse you.' She frowned. 'Maybe you should see a doctor.'

'No.'

'A counsellor?'

'No.'

'Would you consider going back home?'

He turned away.

'Well then... isn't there somewhere else?'

'You don't want me any more.' His voice was flat.

Agnes sighed. She had once liked the thought of helping him. She just hadn't realized how much help a person could require.

They ate dinner in silence. The pork was excellent.

'What about Peter and Dorothea?' she asked, putting the kettle on.

'What about them?'

'Maybe you could stay with them.'

Justin nodded, defeated.

35.

There were no last words when Agnes dropped him off at Peter's house.

She rang the bell, greeted Peter, said goodbye to Justin without touching him or meeting his eyes, and left. Justin was relieved that only Peter was present to witness his rejection.

Peter offered a quick tour of the house, explaining that his mother was usually first out in the morning, followed by the girls, that Justin would meet them all later, and in the meantime should help himself to whatever he could find in the kitchen. Then he took his friend's bags up to the bedroom they would share, and left for school.

In contrast to the rest of the house, which was filled with books and paintings and too many pieces of hopelessly mismatched furniture, Peter's room was spotless and noticeably devoid of stuff. It contained two single beds, a large bookcase stuffed nearly but not quite to overflowing, a map of the Milky Way that took up an entire wall, a colourful chart of the periodic table of elements, an impressive-looking refractor telescope, and a large note on the door that read Feed Alice.

Justin wondered who Alice was.

He slowly unpacked his things, then wandered cautiously down to the kitchen, fixed himself four pieces of toast and Marmite, ate them slowly and returned to Peter's room. He lay down and tried to read some of Peter's books, most of which dealt with the finer points of cosmology. He examined the telescope and wondered if it could be used to scan the neighbourhood for suspicious characters. Then he gave up and fell asleep. It was late afternoon when the sound of a cough woke him, and he struggled into a sitting position.

Peter's youngest sister (he guessed she was about six) stood in the doorway. She had bright blue eyes and fat pink cheeks, but the resemblance to Peter was indisputable. She gripped the end of a long, slim plastic lead.

'h.e.l.lo,' she said, 'I'm Anna. Peter says you're going to live here for a while.'

Justin nodded.

She seemed to consider this for a moment. 'Don't you have a family of your own?'

Justin sighed. 'I do,' he said. 'But we don't really get on.' He thought of Charlie with a pang.

'I don't always get on with my sister.' Anna indicated Dorothea, who had entered the room behind her, and dropped her voice to a whisper. 'We can be quite horrible to each other.'

Dorothea ignored her. 'h.e.l.lo again.'

'h.e.l.lo.' He looked at the two girls. 'I have a brother,' he said.

'What sort of brother?' Dorothea looked interested.

'Quite a small one.'

'Well,' said Dorothea. 'Small can be very exasperating. Don't you miss him?'

Justin did, suddenly. 'He's not a usual sort of child. He's quite unusual, in fact.'

'In what way?'

He thought for a moment. 'He seems to know things.'

'Precocious.' Dorothea shot a glance at Anna. 'Very wearing.'

Justin looked at the floor. 'I also had a girlfriend.'

'Had?'

'She hates me now.'

Both girls gazed at him with interest. Then Dorothea seemed to remember something. 'Peter said to ask about your dog.'

'He's still missing. But he's not real anyway.'

She considered this information. 'What sort of not-real dog is he?'