"Daddy, can we see the clock again, that one with the skeleton, it's only there?" the boy pointed back across the cobbled square to a blond stone building, blackened with time. He tugged on his father's sleeve. On a tower in the middle of the building was a grand clock, its azure face inlaid with gold numbers and astrological symbols that seemed to glow in the early evening sun. 
 
"No, sorry Jake. The table's booked for seven, and it's five past now. Come on," his dad replied. Although he was in danger of sounding like a guidebook, John Measures thought the more information he threw at his kids, the more chance there was that some would stick. "The Skeleton only comes every hour, so it won't be out for ages anyway."
 
He paused a moment, then said, "I'll tell you what, we'll come back tomorrow. How does that grab you?" The father put his hand on the boy's head and looked down at him. His wife Ann, her auburn hair up for the evening, held in place with an old brass grip they had bought earlier in a shop just off Wencelslas Square, holding the hand of a girl about six with her brown hair plaited down her back, shook her head at him.

"Great," she said. Her look said otherwise but she smiled, indulging him. "How do you plan to do that, Mr Itinerary? I thought we were going up to the castle tomorrow? Have you got us a forty eight hour day?" The little girl laughed at this.

"It's okay Dad," the boy said, but he slipped his small hand out of his father's. "We saw it today. I don't mind. We can go to the castle all day if you want."

His eyes began to show tears were on the way. Ann looked pointedly at her husband, ‘what have you done now?' Then the boy put one hand in front of his face, a little fist on his cheek, and pointed just one finger at his dad. Got you!
 
"You little..." roared John, and began to chase his son. The square was full of straggling tourists, milling in the early evening warmth, but the boy jinked amongst them, laughing. Just before he was caught, a waiter stepped out of the many seating areas outside the overpriced bars and restaurants of the square carrying a plastic sack filled with the day's rubbish. Jake had to careen around him, almost stumbling on the old kerbstones of the now car-free square. His father caught him firmly with one strong arm and twisted him to look in his face.

"Please, don't ever do that again, will you?" John said too firmly. He was trying to keep anguish from his voice, but Jake looked at him askance, he had been playing. John immediately realised his overreaction and smiled weakly at the boy. He swept him up in the air and tipped him upside down. "Rubbish bin for Jake I think," he said, carrying him across to the bin where the waiter had thrown the sack.
 
"John. We're late enough already," said Ann, laughing but unable to keep the concern out of her voice. Are you okay? she mouthed to him. "Come on Katy, let's leave the boys to it," she said to her daughter.  

John nodded at his wife and smiled, okay boss. He put Jake down and put his hand on his shoulder, scooting him off towards his mother and sister, who had already started to walk away. He then looked round for the other boy, smaller than the other two. He was stood on his own looking across the square at the traders packing their trinkets away after another busy day, packing boxes into the white Skoda vans lined up around the edge of the square, jostling for position.

"Josh, come on sweetheart," said his dad, beckoning with his hand. The boy turned slowly, his brow screwed up, puzzled. Then the idea that he should go with the rest of his family seemed to come to him in a happy wave, and he smiled serenely. "Let's go, hey?" his father continued. The boy walked over to join him.  

"This is the street," said John, catching up to the rest of his family, looking up at the old street sign, "Zelezne, if that's how you say it. The restaurant's just down here. Boys against girls. Ready?" - He set off running dragging Jake and Josh with him - "Go!"

The family ran, breathless laughing down the centre of the quiet street. A hundred yards on, the boys won, and the father stood in triumph with his two boys.

"Na-na," said Jake to his sister. "Boys beat girls all ends up."
 
"That's not fair, you cheated," Katy did not seem too concerned about this, and her pout was only small. "Is this it mum?" she asked. Her mother looked up at an ornate carved golden bunch of grapes with delicate filigreed lettering hanging below - "Hrozny". 
 
"I think it is" she replied, thinking of the tourist guide her husband had read to her earlier. Stepping into a small archway, she opened the door and held it until everyone got in. They were greeted by a late middle-aged man, dressed elegantly in a dinner suit, but, strangely, without a tie. His open necked shirt seemed at odds with the fading elegance of the room, with its dark-blue, velvet swagged windows and mahogany covered walls.
 
"Nazdar, vitat. Welcome, to our restaurant," he said as he ushered them into the room. "May I ask, do you have a reservation?"
 
"We do, thank you. In the name of Measures," John replied, marvelling that, as visitors to this or any country, they could usually rely on being greeted in their own language. 
 
"Okay, please, come this way," he stepped back slightly and put one arm out to guide them further into the restaurant. Their table was next to the window, impressively set with a full silver service, a single lit candle in an elegant silver stick, crystal glasses and antique silver napkin holders holding crisp blue cotton in place. John shared a pleased, impressed glance with his wife. About half the tables were taken, even in this early part of the evening.
 
"Look at all these knives and forks. Cool," said Jake climbing up on to one of the chairs. "Where's Josh going to sit though?"  he said, with a cruel laugh.

"Jake Measures," snapped Ann, but when John saw there were only four places set, he turned to the waiter.
 
"Excuse me," he said. "Could you set another place? I think we booked for five." The waiter looked at the table and then at John. He also saw the lady's concerned look, but was pleased when she nodded. "Okay, is no problem," he said. "Please, sit. I will bring you extra place, and also menus."
 
"You know, Josh," said John to the little boy, "Prague is where they invented chips, way back hundreds of years ago. It was just round the corner, near that old church we went to. Shall I see if they do chips?" Josh nodded quietly in reply. Ann listened to him, increasingly uneasy about the evening.
 
Just then, the waiter came back to set the extra place. Moving one set of cutlery slightly to the side, he quickly, magically placed another full set in place, and span round to get a chair from the next table. They all found their seats, Katy insisting on boy-girl, boy-girl, and the waiter brought the menus. In the hands of the children the discoloured paper looked like parchment newspapers.
 
"What do you want sweetie?" John asked Josh. "How about some soup for a starter, then perhaps some chicken and vegetables." The little boy did not respond to this. Just as Ann was about to speak, the waiter reappeared, asking if they wanted a wine list. John shook his head. He had not taken a drink for nearly ten years. Nearly ten years, since a very particular day, one burned into his mind.
 
He looked around him, feeling the antique atmosphere of the restaurant stifling him. The table was near the window, and the waiter stood next to his wife. He looked across at Jake and Katy, and Josh, and then at his wife. She saw he was leaving them and realised the mistake they have made coming to the restaurant, it is too similar, too familiar to him. She touched his forearm gently. Even though he barely registered she was there, he shook her hand off brusquely.
 
"It's okay, John," her voice cracked slightly. "We can leave if you want. Just say, and we'll go. We'll get some fries from a street man, and then we can go and watch the clock again." She brought the children into the conversation. "You two would love that wouldn't you?"
 
John noticed this, and his expression asked her why, and she saw that she had made a real mistake. He looked at her but ...
 
he is back in the restaurant, with his wife and son, the rain smeared windows slightly damp with condensation. He lifts the glass to his lips, another glass to deaden the pain of the news they had just shared, another glass to smother the thought of the life that no longer grew inside her. 
 
The boy looks sadly at his mum and dad, asks them what the matter is, what has he done? They tell him it is all right, that he has not done anything, but he sees the pain and anger on his father's face. He sits as they talk quietly and his father says something sharply in between drinking from the glass of wine that makes his mother cry. Stop it, stop it he says to his father, and bangs his small fists on the table, making the cutlery jump slightly and his father says to him, be quiet, this is nothing to do with you. The boy sits quietly and sobs as his parents talk. What has he done? He asks them again and John tells him this is the last time he will say it, be quiet. Ann shouts, it's nobody's fault, don't take it out on the boy, but John looks differently at the boy, he hates him then, for the life he has, that his other child no longer has, lying still in his wife's womb. The boy sobs, bringing looks of distaste from the other diners. 
 
‘What did I say?' John asks sternly, ‘Just shut up and be quiet, I can't stand it when you sit there snivelling. Christ, why can't you be the one? Why did you have to live, eh?' he takes another drink, as his wife stands to slap him.

The boy shouts ‘no', and half jumps, half falls from his chair. His parents do not seem to take this in at first as a red bloom appears on John's cheek. Then he sees his son reach the door of the restaurant, and he is pushing his wife away as his son pulls the door open. He rushes past a waiter who almost falls into another table, but the doors swing shut before he can get there.  

His drunk, nervous hands slip from the door, and he has to try again to open them but then other customers are entering and he wastes few more precious moments, moments he would later think could have made everything different. 'Christ, just open the door' he says, heaving past into the street.
 
He looks but at first cannot see his son, through the shopping crowds. Then he spots him, passing a crossing, running down the rain slick pavement into the heart of the Manchester rain. His feet are making small splashes as he strikes puddles, but somehow he is managing not to hit anyone. An elderly couple look behind them as he passes.
 
‘Joshie,' he shouts as he runs into the wet street. ‘Wait Josh, I need to explain.' Josh does not seem to hear him, so he shouts louder, making him breathless as he runs. He picks up speed as he sees the boy pause and start to turn, grasping at the thought of his daddy loving him really.
 
‘Daddy' he says, and starts to run back. John smiles, relieved, but them someone comes out of a shop carrying a large, box that instantly shows the rain, staining the cardboard like tears. He doesn't see the small boy as the box makes a barrier about the height of his head, and the boy has to dodge to one side to avoid the collision, but this makes him fall, his right foot missing the kerbstone, unbalancing him, and he tumbles into the traffic.
 
John runs, blind from the rain and his tears, and gets to the boy before the driver has realised what exactly happened. There is a box next to him, and a man is asking whether the boy is hurt.
 
Ann, her auburn hair bedraggled by the rain, falls on her husband and son, sobbing, ‘Sorry John, I'm so sorry about this. Oh God, my baby, will he be okay, say he will be okay John. Oh, God, my little boy.'
 
John almost turns to say there is no God and she should leave him alone, for a heartbeat the words are there, but he doesn't, he reaches out and pulls her close, whispering it will be okay baby, okay, Joshie will be fine.
 
But as he see his son's life slip gently onto the road, red mixing with the blue reflected light, he knows this is a lie, Joshie will not be okay, his fragile body could not survive this. At that instant, that precise point in time, if nothing ever changed, we are still four, he thought. And he keeps thinking this, but the reality is they are only two.

When the ambulance comes, Josh is dead. John lifts his weightless body into the arms of a doctor and he collapses onto the road, thinking he will never leave this place. 
    
 
"John. John, please," said Ann. The worried children were looking at him. Jake had reached across to hold Katy's hand. 
 
John reacted only slightly to his wife, looked at her distraught face, looked at her hand resting next to his arm, the wedding ring reflecting the candle, flickering gold.
 
As she looked directly at him, she could see that man he once was, the hollow person he became for a few years after the accident. She did not think she could survive seeing the man she loved change again, to revert back to the ghost of her husband he became.  A world ago she had stood with him, as he lifted his broken child into the arms of a doctor on a sodden street; and she stood with him as he lifted his own broken life back together - together because she was broken as well; and now she needed to stand with him again, lest her family became broken, ruined by the past.
 
He seemed to be stuck in the fugue, so she said to him, "Come on John. We need to think of these two, these two beautiful children. We can't bring the past with us forever, we have to live now." Her tears coursed over her cheeks, and fell to the table linen, making small patches like the start of a rain shower on a hot road.
 
Josh sat beatifically, looking at his daddy to see what would happen, while John sat staring only at the dancing reflection of the candle on his wife's ring.
 
Then Katy spoke. "Daddy," her tiny voice resonated at the quiet table. "Are you okay? Is it Josh you are thinking about? You don't need to, because he told me he is okay in heaven, and that it is nice there. He lives on a cloud with his brother."
 
As she said it, John realised this was his child speaking, his living child. She deserved him, her father, her daddy, and so did his son, Jake. His other son, Josh, needed something as well. The comprehension hit John abruptly. Josh needed peace, and he could not get it until John let him go, allowed him to leave only memories behind, not an incorporeal shadow, a revenant he could not let go of again. The only way any of them could find peace was if he allowed Josh to go.
 
He beckoned over the waiter, and hoarsely asked him to take away the extra place, they would be only four for dinner. His wife's expression asked him a silent question, and he simply gripped her hand in reply, yes, I'm sure, squeezing tight enough to make her ring hurt her finger. As the waiter began to clear away the silverware, Josh looked at his daddy and smiled, then waved a small goodbye as he got off his seat and walked out of the restaurant.