The old lady has put arsenic in his tea. Is she going to stuff him?
Becker has stopped crying. He feels so much better. Everything is going to be fine. He’ll just sleep for a while, right here, on the sofa.
No, not on the sofa. He’s not on the sofa, is he? He’s sitting up. The car. He’s in the car. His car. Did he walk out to his car? He can’t remember walking to the car. He’s not sure he’s OK to drive. Oh, that’s OK, he’s not driving. She is. Grace is driving. They’re going down the hill, down they go, down down down.
We’ve missed the tide.
The tide is too high. Grace, the tide is too high.
It’s dark now. Or did he just have his eyes shut? No, it’s dark.
Where is Grace?
He can’t drive, he’s in no state to drive. Where is Grace?
Grace is gone.
Grace. Amazing grace, the grace of God. Good graces, bad graces. Grace killed Julian, Grace destroyed Vanessa’s work. How did it take him so long to see the light?
He can see a light.
The light at the end of the tunnel?
That’s gone now, too.
Oh, there it is.
The lighthouse. It’s the lighthouse.
It’s cold, his feet are very cold.
His feet are wet.
There is water coming into the car.
There is water coming into the car!
It’s OK, it’s all right. It’s just a nightmare, he remembers now. It’s just a nightmare.
It’s not a nightmare.
He’s been sick again.
He needs to get out of the car. He must get out of the car, he needs to do it now, it’s not too deep yet. He’ll wade across, it’s not that far. It’s not too deep. It’s not too far.
The water is freezing, it is already up to his thighs. It buffets him one way and then tears him the other. He loses his footing almost instantly, he gasps in terror, he struggles to stand, he cries out. Help me. Help me. There is no way he can get to the other side, he has to go back, he has to turn back.
Oh, he’s so tired.
The cold is torture, it’s like ice, he cannot stand it, he cannot stand it another moment, it is agony.
And then it’s not so bad. It’s not so bad. It’s not so cold now.
He thinks of the black paintings.
No, not those, not Vanessa’s black paintings, the originals, Goya’s black paintings, hanging in the Prado in Madrid. He visited when he was younger, he was with a girl, he can’t remember her name now. Not Helena.
He is the dog, the Drowning Dog, trying to keep his head above water.
Helena. Oh, Helena.
The baby.
He sees the light again, water splashes against his face. If he could get back to the car, if he could just get back to the car, then maybe he’ll be all right. His phone! Where is his phone? If he could hear her voice again, just once.
He hears her voice.
She is calling him, a voice is calling his name.
It’s the gulls. The gulls are saying his name.
He sees the light again, from the lighthouse, it is strobing, flashing faster now, faster, it is no longer white, now it’s blue.
Now it’s blue.
Now it’s blue.