it after leaving the police station. If nobody was looking for him, there was little need to keep him cooped up indoors all the time. And if he was going to go
outside she needed to dress him better, keep him warm. His hands were always a little cold, she reckoned.
And she would have to get him some toys. Some paper and crayons. Something to do while she was out working, when there was no choice but to leave him in the apartment.
Victor got down from the table. The coat was a good fit. She snipped the price tag off and hung the coat beside her own, liking how the two looked together. She thought about how odd it was,
that she should be so taken by Victor and feel such a bond in so short a time.
When she turned back to him, she gasped. The living-room window was wide open, and Victor was calmly sitting on the windowsill. The apartment was four floors up. He smiled at her, then fell
through the open window, out of sight.
Horrified, she cried out and ran to the window. She looked down. Nothing was there.
She ran down the stairs and out, breathless, still fully expecting to see a small crumpled form lying on the ground before her. But there was nothing. It wasn’t possible. She looked up to
the window of her apartment above and saw him there, watching, smiling. He waved. She stared at him, wondering if she was losing her mind. She waved back cautiously.
Had she even seen him fall? Had she imagined it, while Victor had been inside the whole time?
Confusion swamped her, suddenly one thought foremost. Was Victor even real? Nobody had interacted with him, perhaps he was . . .
Then she thought of Nathalie Payet, and for the only time in her life she was glad her neighbour existed.
She
had seen him. She was the proof. The boy was real, and Julie’s mind
was sound.
More or less.
Thinking of her neighbour reminded her of Monsieur Costa, and of the woman’s comment.
The worst of sins
. Maybe that was all that the vision of Victor falling from the window had
been: suicide on her mind. If she was honest, it had been on her mind for seven years, as an option to consider. And now she’d projected it out of herself, onto someone she’d started to
feel strongly for.
Feel
. It had crept up on her. She’d started to feel strongly for another person. It was something she hadn’t allowed herself since that night in the underpass, when her life
and everything in it had gone to hell.
That evening she and Victor sat watching TV, eating dinner. She talked for both of them; asking questions and then providing the answers as he watched her with adoring eyes. Despite the
strangeness of the situation it was the most normal she’d felt in a long, long time. It was good to have someone there. It was good to stop feeling so alone. So dead to the world around
her.
Come nightfall, with Victor tucked in on the sofa, Julie went to have a shower. She undressed, then looked at herself in the mirror, deliberately examining the patchwork of scars; the ghosts of
the slashes and stabs and incisions she’d suffered that New Year’s Eve, seven years before.
She started to cry. But it wasn’t despair she felt. It was something much rarer, something she almost didn’t recognize. Something that had come to her the moment she’d begun to
think the boy might stay, just for a while.
Hope
.
19
When the police came to the Lake Pub for Toni, he thought it was the wolf that had brought them.
He had been out at dawn, hunting deer in the woods surrounding the lake, when he’d seen it: a dark shape at the far edge of a large clearing. He thought it was a dog at first. For all the
whispered talk of wolves coming back to the area, he’d never seen one himself. It had probably been eighty years since the animals had had any real presence in this valley.
It had a dark pelt – almost black – and he struggled to make out the shape as it slunk out of the shadows of the trees. It was the striking white flash on the top of the head that
had
outside she needed to dress him better, keep him warm. His hands were always a little cold, she reckoned.
And she would have to get him some toys. Some paper and crayons. Something to do while she was out working, when there was no choice but to leave him in the apartment.
Victor got down from the table. The coat was a good fit. She snipped the price tag off and hung the coat beside her own, liking how the two looked together. She thought about how odd it was,
that she should be so taken by Victor and feel such a bond in so short a time.
When she turned back to him, she gasped. The living-room window was wide open, and Victor was calmly sitting on the windowsill. The apartment was four floors up. He smiled at her, then fell
through the open window, out of sight.
Horrified, she cried out and ran to the window. She looked down. Nothing was there.
She ran down the stairs and out, breathless, still fully expecting to see a small crumpled form lying on the ground before her. But there was nothing. It wasn’t possible. She looked up to
the window of her apartment above and saw him there, watching, smiling. He waved. She stared at him, wondering if she was losing her mind. She waved back cautiously.
Had she even seen him fall? Had she imagined it, while Victor had been inside the whole time?
Confusion swamped her, suddenly one thought foremost. Was Victor even real? Nobody had interacted with him, perhaps he was . . .
Then she thought of Nathalie Payet, and for the only time in her life she was glad her neighbour existed.
She
had seen him. She was the proof. The boy was real, and Julie’s mind
was sound.
More or less.
Thinking of her neighbour reminded her of Monsieur Costa, and of the woman’s comment.
The worst of sins
. Maybe that was all that the vision of Victor falling from the window had
been: suicide on her mind. If she was honest, it had been on her mind for seven years, as an option to consider. And now she’d projected it out of herself, onto someone she’d started to
feel strongly for.
Feel
. It had crept up on her. She’d started to feel strongly for another person. It was something she hadn’t allowed herself since that night in the underpass, when her life
and everything in it had gone to hell.
That evening she and Victor sat watching TV, eating dinner. She talked for both of them; asking questions and then providing the answers as he watched her with adoring eyes. Despite the
strangeness of the situation it was the most normal she’d felt in a long, long time. It was good to have someone there. It was good to stop feeling so alone. So dead to the world around
her.
Come nightfall, with Victor tucked in on the sofa, Julie went to have a shower. She undressed, then looked at herself in the mirror, deliberately examining the patchwork of scars; the ghosts of
the slashes and stabs and incisions she’d suffered that New Year’s Eve, seven years before.
She started to cry. But it wasn’t despair she felt. It was something much rarer, something she almost didn’t recognize. Something that had come to her the moment she’d begun to
think the boy might stay, just for a while.
Hope
.
19
When the police came to the Lake Pub for Toni, he thought it was the wolf that had brought them.
He had been out at dawn, hunting deer in the woods surrounding the lake, when he’d seen it: a dark shape at the far edge of a large clearing. He thought it was a dog at first. For all the
whispered talk of wolves coming back to the area, he’d never seen one himself. It had probably been eighty years since the animals had had any real presence in this valley.
It had a dark pelt – almost black – and he struggled to make out the shape as it slunk out of the shadows of the trees. It was the striking white flash on the top of the head that
had
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