I shouldn’t be lying in bed, I should be out looking for Mum and Dad. “Felix,” says Zelda, jumping on my sack, “wake up. It’s time to wake up. Are you awake?” “Yes,” I say. “I am now.” “You have to get up,” says Zelda. “You have to tell us a story.” I don’t reply. “You have to,” insists Zelda. “Barney said I’m not allowed to anymore. He said I start too many arguments. He’s wrong, but that’s what he said.” I get up. I’m desperate to pee. While I was sick Barney let me pee in a bottle, but he must have taken it. “Where’s the toilet?” I say. Zelda points. Through the gloom of the cellar I can just make out some wooden steps going up in one corner. Behind the steps is a bucket. I stagger over to it. It’s half full and stinks, but I’m desperate. While I go, Zelda comes over and watches. I want to turn away, but I don’t. Orphans deserve a bit of fun. “Hurry up,” says Zelda. “We’re bored. We want a story.” When I’ve finished I look around the cellar, but I can’t see the others.
