Bag of Weasels. Chapter 11

The warmth had gone and the cold bit in, but sleep came anyway.
The morning was colder still. I dragged myself up and opened the side door to sniff the day. Patterns moved in an early mist, other streets forming and shaping, surely to only melt away if I'd turned to walk them. Two-faced mist, hid me and tricked me.
I stepped back in and shut the door. Ralph and Banksy were talking, making plans without me; if ever there were three there would be two and I would always be the one.
"Before right now and before the last time, Ralph was saying, "I'd been away West, on roads lined with grand houses fronted by white columns and drives, and spent one night. I was not welcome. I was not wanted, but the space had been mine for an instant. They came in the morning and bullied me out, pulled me out and the space closed up. But now I believe nothing has happened for nothing. Maybe I was supposed to be there. Maybe we should all go back there.
"We should go to the South. Said Banksy, blanking Ralph's suggestion.
Ralph frowned, but Banksy went on.
"Never mind hunches. That got you this far, and that was mostly Sunny. He's got the better nose, he's the one that got you here, he just doesn't know his own powers, that one. But something's on in the South, Ralph, something big, down in Southwark, where it's old and it's dirty and the history's dark. Neither of you come from there, do you?
"Never go south of the river, Ralph spoke for both of us, although we'd been known to float up it, of course.
"Well listen, then. It's not just a feeling, a hunch or a whisper. I've come from there, there's more of us, more like you two, following clues and paperchases, all converging on one place over there, and I'll take you back with me. Just come along, you'll see I'm right. There's something there.
Anyway, Southwark is safe. The streets are old and cold, and we can walk them safely. In the West, we shall be found.
It seemed they settled it, between themselves. Then she noticed.
"Where's he buggered of to?
I'd sloped upstairs and curled up against the wall, where the script ranged past me:

"From beneath the foundations up to the rooftops, in millions to mimic the stars. All in one all in one.

You see I'd been listening in like an outsider ' we were already three which meant them and me, and now we were going where there were to be more? More to be split from. More to look and point. More to hurt like it always does. I hugged myself in with no plans to emerge.
I could hear Banksy, upset impatient, "What's he doing? What's up now?
Ralph shushed her and came up the stairs, leaned down to me, peered in.
"She said there were lots of us, I whined, "Who's us? There's no us. I don't want any us Ralph, I don't want to go.
Ralph put a hand on my arm, and I let slip a sob.
"I don't want to go where they are.
He knew well enough. For the sake of my head I always stayed on my own, so I could go where the tides took me. And now I wished I'd stepped away at the first and left the papers and never read them or looked for Ralph and never come back and never searched further and never got haunted by Grey men and shadows and never met Banksy the meddling witch. I'd been swept into a plan which was taking me out and into the world. Into crowds. Into others. Into trouble and fear I'd wager; always was always will be. That is the law.
"I'm not going.
"You are. It was Banksy, appearing just behind Ralph. Her mouth was tight small and her eyes had gone slitty, I guessed that was her angry face. She leaned over and grabbed me to pull me up.
Ralph stuck a big palm in her face and shoved her off. She bounced off the banister and just found her footing, her mouth hung open silent, eyes like an owl. I guessed that was her freaked face. She got back to the sidelines.
"Trust me Sunny, we'll be alright. We've come a fair way together. I want you with me Sunny. We have to go on and we'll be together.
I believed him. But more important, the way back was gone, and I couldn't stay here, and Ralph urged at that moment: "You're better with us.
And I threw in my lot as the only way left.