“Can we go and get it?” Dill looked as if he was about to cry, but Harold realised it was probably only a sign of further decomposition.
“Um...I suppose so.” He looked through the glass panes into the kitchen. Jasfoup was saying something and Gillian was laughing. Devious was clearing away the plates, taking the opportunity to eat anything he or Jasfoup had left. It was like looking at a charming domestic scene after he'd died and for a moment he had an inkling of how the zombie felt. Was this what happened after you died? People just got on with their lives without you? Would Lucy be content with her lot without his wisdom to guide her?
Dill plucked at his elbow. “Are you all right? You looked as if you weren't all there.”
“I was just thinking about something.”
“What? In there?”
“They were laughing. Probably about you and they didn't realise you were snooping. It happens. You get used to it eventually.”
“Hmm?” Harold turned back. “Get used to what?”
“People talking about you.”
“Do they? I didn't realise.” Harold turned back to him and almost patted him on the shoulder before he realised the dustbin liner coverall had gone. “Let me grab my coat and keys and something to put on the seat and we'll be off. I bet you're hungry.”
“No. I'm fine. I grabbed a bite on the way up here.”