“I have tried, over the years. When you were small … I … I thought maybe it was my fault somehow. That I made her like that. That I grew her wrong.”

Marty thought about this, and for the first time ever, he saw something approaching uncertainty in Grandad’s eyes.

“No,” said Marty, “it’s an illness … that’s what the doctors say…” Marty had always clung to that thought. He shrugged. “I dunno, Grandad, sometimes my brain aches just thinking about it.”

“But I know she’s proud of you, boy…”

Marty bit his lip.

“All grown up! Starting your journey.”

Marty smiled.

“And look at me! An old man…”

“You’re not old,” Marty said before looking up at Grandad earnestly. “You’re absolutely ancient…”

Grandad laughed his belly laugh and looked up into the sky for a moment.

“You know…”—he hesitated—“I used to wonder what it would be like to be old…”

Marty watched his face. The shadows flickering across it in the darkness.

“What does it feel like?”

Grandad shrugged.

“I don’t know. I feel exactly like I did back then except I have to get up three times every night to pee.”

Marty laughed.

“Right, then, I’m going to get some beauty sleep.”

Grandad was going back to the apartment tonight. Gracie was staying with Marty in the shed. She’d told her dad she was having a sleepover with a friend, which was technically true. Marty watched Grandad get up creakily and brush off his trousers before winding his way along the path toward the apartment. Marty watched Gracie dance until she had finished practicing, and he promised himself that however old he’d get, he wouldn’t let himself know what it felt like either.

TWENTY-THREE

THERE WAS NO point whispering to Gracie because she’d taken her sound processor off before she’d fallen asleep, so Marty gave her a nudge. When she groaned as she came to, Marty pressed a finger to his mouth, telling her to keep quiet. All he could see in the moonlight were her wide-open eyes. He gestured outside with the other hand and mouthed …

“There’s someone here!”

He listened. Got up quietly. Gracie did the same. They normally slept in their clothes here anyway as it was so cold at night. They edged out, and Marty heard voices on the other side of the allotment. Gracie pulled up her sleeve; it was three o’clock in the morning. They crept behind the shed. It was them, he was sure it was. The voices and laughter got nearer and nearer, bits of their conversation being carried on the breeze …

“Little show-off…”

“Gets his ugly face in the paper and thinks he’s all that.”