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[Remembering his mother's death
: Dad wasn't making much sense. His hands were like injured birds looking for a safe place to roost.
: I know where you've gone. I know where you're hiding. To have nothing, to feel nothing, to be nothing. It doesn't work, I've tried it. Anything's possible, Jamie, except feeling nothing. That's never possible.
: They were a devoted couple, they showed it. Uncle Turpin
: You mean she convinced him that she'd go to pieces if he strayed even as far as the end of the garden to do a widdle on his own.
: What sort of things did you do when you were my age? Graham Holt
: I kept my head down, I suppose. Nothing very exciting. James
: [points to his life-story book
] Is what's in there exciting? Graham Holt
: [pauses, turns pages
] It's more disturbing than exciting. James
: That's what they say I am. Disturbed. Graham Holt
: What do you say?
: I cried. Debbie
: So I heard. Graham Holt
: Isn't it usual to phone before you visit? Debbie
: Sometimes I do, sometimes I don't. I like to catch people unawares. Graham Holt
: Anyway, there's no point now. Debbie
: Why? Graham Holt
: I told you. I cried in front of the child I was hoping to adopt and his - what's it called - his key worker. Debbie
: Best thing you could have done. Now they're both crazy about you.
: [emerging from the school bus Friday afternoon
] You've got a broody expression, like a hen with constipation. Well, don't, 'cuz I've got the hermity. We're going camping this weekend. It'll be great! Graham Holt
: Not this weekend. James
: Why not? Graham Holt
: We have a visitor. James
: [pauses, puzzled
] We never have visitors.
: Were you testing me? James
: I do test people sometimes.