“Thanks,” I say, and Finn looks uncomfortable. Mum used to say he was like a faerie; he didn't like to be thanked. I add, “Sorry.”

“with the night falling we are saying thank youwe are stopping on the bridge to bow from the railingswe are running out of the glass roomswith our mouths full of food to look at the skyand say thank youwe are standing by the water looking outin different directionsback from a series of hospitals back from a muggingafter funerals we are saying thank youafter the news of the deadwhether or not we knew them we are saying thank youin a culture up to its chin in shameliving in the stench it has chosen we are saying thank youover telephones we are saying thank youin doorways and in the backs of cars and in elevatorsremembering wars and the police at the back doorand the beatings on stairs we are saying thank youin the banks that use us we are saying thank youwith the crooks in office with the rich and fashionableunchanged we go on saying thank you thank youwith the animals dying around usour lost feelings we are saying thank youwith the forests falling faster than the minutesof our lives we are saying thank youwith the words going out like cells of a brainwith the cities growing over us like the earthwe are saying thank you faster and fasterwith nobody listening we are saying thank youwe are saying thank you and wavingdark though it is”

“Thank you," he says."Thank who?""I don't know. You?""No, not me. Jesus.""Thank you, Jesus?""Yes, Toph, Jesus died for your Christmas fun.”

“There are two words that you should use frequently in your youth: ´sorry´ and ´thank-you´. Use the first one as often as possible, so that on your death bed all that you have to say to your friends is ´thank-you!´.”

“Turner didn't have to put up with this. He had enough trouble with George's sarcasm. He held his hand. "Keys please."Her face fell. "Sorry. I sometimes speak without thinking. Well, not sometimes. Often. Never an unspoken thought, my dad used to say. And my mum. And my employers.”

“But that isn't the strangest part," Fallon said. He peered down the corridor, as if to make sure Philip wasn't nearby.Then he turned to Charlotte. "He's started thanking me, Your Grace." His beetled eyebrows pulled low. "When I iron the paper, he thanks me. When I announce a visitor, he thanks me. Why, he even thanked me the other day for opening the door. 'Thank you, Fallon,' he says.”