There is another world below this one, a world inhabited by ghosts and demons and all the things that we have lost that we should not find again.
I only have to watch Ben to understand that, to watch the way that, every few minutes, he stops playing and looks towards the garden gate, looks beyond it at something I cannot see, and I am reminded of the truth of these words. Sitting here in the bright sunlight, in my garden, watching my son play in his paddling pool, it seems beyond madness, not even an insanity but a preposterousness, a thing of fantasy, but it is not. Christ, it seems like madness, now I come to write it. You’re not any more likely to believe me than anyone else, I don’t suppose, but you’re my dad and I love you and I want you to know what’s happening and I know I can trust you. I’m sorry for writing to you like this, that I couldn’t ring, but I don’t know what else to do. Scale Hall – illustration by Robert Elrod – click image to enlarge
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