I think the message might be that it’s never over. Even when you think someone is gone for ever, they can return. Whether you’re desperate to speak to them one last time, or terrified to see their face. Life always finds a way.
Chapter 16
FELIX
Felix and Kasper sat together in the laundry room. Leah was in Felix’s bedroom, but he couldn’t sit there and stare at her like Rima could. Instead, they were sprawled in here, opposite a line of the few remaining washing machines that hadn’t been scavenged.
Kasper was lying with his head in Felix’s lap, eyes closed. They didn’t speak about the important things – that the whole ecosystem of Mulcture Hall had been destroyed since Harriet’s arrival; that none of them had any idea what they were supposed to do about it; that Leah still hadn’t woken up and Claudia wouldn’t stop crying, curled up alone next to her mother because they were all too scared to go near her. Most of all, they didn’t speak about the way Leah had looked at Felix after she’d seen the future. She’d looked right at him, like – like he was…
Felix was going to disintegrate. Leah had seen it happen and looked at him afterwards with horror. They all knew it. It was only a matter of time.
“I’d give anything to hear Leah play Don’t Get Me Started right now,” Felix said.
Kasper coughed a laugh, looking up at Felix from the corner of his eye. “Maybe we should talk really loudly about the Tooth Fairy next to her,” he suggested, toying with Felix’s sleeve, folding the fabric into concertinas and then smoothing it flat. His thumb pressed against the smooth skin of Felix’s wrist. Felix shivered.
Felix’s smile disappeared, laughter dying in his throat. “I always knew she was older than the rest of us,” Felix said. “But I never thought that meant she might leave us one day.”
“I can’t imagine a Mulcture Hall without her,” Kasper agreed. “It feels like she’s always been here.”
“Do you know how old she is?”
Kasper closed his eyes and said, “No, do you?”
Felix shook his head. “I’ve always been too scared to ask. Rima asked her once, and I thought she was literally going to bite her head off.”
Kasper smiled. His thumb was still rubbing against Felix’s wrist, dipping down to press into his palm. “That does sound like Leah.”
They’d tried to feed rats to Leah, to wake her again. But there just wasn’t enough energy there to recover from being a Shell. They just had to wait and see if she woke up on her own.
There was a bird’s nest inside one of the rusting tumble driers, layers of intricate sticks and moss padding the steel barrel. Felix would have to come back in the spring and see the chicks, if they weren’t all Shells by then.
Oscar had loved birds. Even as a kid, he’d been obsessed with owls and eagles and herons. Felix had always teased him about being a twitcher, which Oscar had hated. He’d thought he was too cool for that sort of thing.
Felix had been right, of course. Sometimes, on his visits, Oscar would stand at the window and pull out a pair of binoculars. Based on the things he said when he was here, it seemed Oscar was divorced now, and constantly embarrassed his grown-up children with bad jokes. Felix supposed there weren’t many things nowadays that his brother was too cool for.
“Whatever Leah saw, I’m absolutely certain it wasn’t what you think,” Kasper said, apropos of nothing. “Even if she saw you, that doesn’t mean that it was something … bad.”
Kasper’s roaming touch trailed down Felix’s fingers, bending and straightening the joints, comparing the length to his own.
“I hope not.” Felix sighed through his nose. Why hadn’t he done something about Harriet earlier? He shouldn’t have left her to wander the building, leaving chaos and destruction in her wake.
Kasper sat upright, suddenly. “Felix, I never said thank you.”
Felix blinked. “What for?”
“After Lisa disintegrated, you were there for me. And again, when Harriet – you know – dumped me. You were there for me again. I realized that I never said thank you afterwards.”
Felix was shocked. Kasper was voluntarily talking about feelings. Usually he seemed terrified of even admitting he had any emotions at all.
“I…” Felix stuttered, but Kasper clearly wanted to get the words out in one go.
“It meant a lot. That’s all I wanted to say. And – and I appreciate it.”
Felix’s eyes dropped to the ground. He smiled. “Any time, Kasper.” Then he looked up, distraught. “And I don’t mean that in a ‘I hope you get your heart broken again’ kind of way. God.”
Kasper laughed. The sound was relieved, filled with a rush of affection. He hauled Felix into a hug, squeezing him hard. Felix’s nose hit his cheekbone, too hard and painfully real. He twisted his face to the side.
“Thanks, buddy. You’re a really good mate.” Kasper rubbed his hand up and down Felix’s back in familiar, gentle strokes. There was something awful in the words when combined with those intimate movements, so tender and personal.
Felix went still. Kasper was saying one thing, and doing another. It wasn’t fair on him, not one bit. He couldn’t call Felix his friend, and then touch him like they were more than that. This was something more than friendship, at least for Felix.
“No,” Felix said, quick and rough. “No, sorry. I can’t do this.”
“What?” Kasper said, confused.
Felix clenched his fists so tightly that the muscles in his hands popped. A whiff of dust, mixed with the humid scent of a brewing thunderstorm, hit his nostrils. “I can’t live like this any more. It’s not enough.”
Kasper was floored. “What? I don’t, I mean – what?”
“I thought it would be enough, to just be here for you when you needed it. But you have to – you have to know. It’s not like you don’t – it’s not – I can’t keep
