The dead were silent. Then the Alderman said, ‘Well, I’m blowed if I’m going back in there.’

‘Thomas Bowler!’ snapped Mrs Liberty.

‘Well, if a man can’t swear when he’s dead, it’s a poor lookout. Blowed, blowed, blowed. And damn,’ said the Alderman. ‘I mean, look, will you? There’s radio and television and all sorts. There’s things going on! I don’t see why we should go back in there. It’s dull. No way.’

‘No way?’

William Stickers nudged Mrs Liberty. ‘That’s Australian for “certainly not”,’ he whispered.

‘But staying where we’re put is proper,’ said Mrs Liberty. ‘We have to stay where we’ve been put—’

’Ahem.’

It was Mr Grimm. The dead looked at their feet.

‘I entirely agree,’ he said.

‘Oh. Hello, Eric,’ said the Alderman coldly.

Eric Grimm folded his hands on his chest and beamed at them. This worried even the dead. The thickness of his glasses somehow made his eyes get lost, so that all that was on the other side of them was pinkness.

‘Will you listen to what you are saying?’ he said. ‘You’re dead. Act your age. It’s over.’ He waved a finger. ‘You know what will happen if you leave. You know what will happen if you’re too long away. It’s dreadful to think about, isn’t it? You’re letting this idiot child get you all upset.’

The dead tried not to meet his gaze. When you were dead, there were some things that you knew, in the same way that when you were alive you knew about breathing. It was that a day would come. And you had to be prepared. There’d be a final sunrise, and you had to face it, and be ready.

A final sunrise. The day of judgement. It could be any day. You had to be ready.

‘Not gallivanting off apeing your juniors,’ said Mr Grimm, who seemed to read their thoughts. ‘We’re dead. So we wait here, like decent people. Not go dabbling in the Ordinary.’

The dead shuffled their feet.

‘Well, I’ve waited eighty years,’ said the Alderman, at last. ‘If it happens tonight, it happens. I’m going to go and have a look around. Anyone else coming?’

‘Yes. Me,’ said William Stickers, standing up.

‘Anyone else?’

About half the dead stood up. A few more looked around and decided to join them. There was something about Mr Grimm that made you want to be on the other side.

‘You will get lost!’ warned Mr Grimm. ‘Something will go wrong, you know! And then you’ll be wandering around forever, and you’ll . . . forget.’

‘I’ve got descendants out there,’ said the Alderman.

‘We’ve all got descendants,’ said Mrs Liberty.

‘And we know what the rules are. And so do you.’ She looked embarrassed.

There were rules. You were never told them, any more than you were told that things dropped when you let go of them. They were just there.

But the Alderman was unbudgeable in a sullen kind of way.

‘At least I’m going to have a look around. Check out my old haunts,’ he muttered.