Chapter 30
Alex Beckinsale was drawing a picture. Despite the damp weather, he always insisted on spending the morning outside. The Bellbird Assisted Living Apartments boasted a small garden with a slimy fish pond and five park benches artfully placed next to weeping cherry trees and clipped box hedges. This morning Alex had the garden to himself because it was drizzling—at least he had until the visitor had arrived. The man wore a serious blue uniform and had a cool hat to go with it. Alex knew that meant he was a policeman. Maybe he should ask for a hat too—he would feel very important with a hat on.
The policeman didn’t say anything as he sat down. He just watched him drawing for a few minutes. Alex didn’t care, so long as he didn’t nick his pencils. Raindrops started to muck up his work but that wasn’t a problem. Sometimes water made things more real.
‘What are you drawing, Alex?’ the man asked eventually. He looked like he was trying to control his impatience, as if he had important things to attend to.
‘The river. The one that sings. The Lady sings better but I can’t draw her,’ he explained with a crooked smile.
‘Did you see the Lady the day we first met?’
‘Have we met?’ he asked pointedly. The policeman had been rude not to introduce himself.
‘We’ve met a few times now, Mr Beckinsale, don’t you remember? The first time was three years ago, in Nalong.’
Alex crossed his legs but dropped his pencil.
The policeman picked it up for him. ‘Tell me about the Lady,’ he prompted in a firm, gentle tone that made him sound just like one of his doctors.
Alex smiled, looking up at the leaking clouds, and a fine mist tickled his cheeks. ‘She was beautiful. She sang to me.’ He winked at the policeman and leant forward to whisper in his ear. ‘She had no clothes on!’
The man was gratifyingly startled. ‘How do you know? Did you see her before you lost your eyesight?’
Alex blinked a few times and rubbed his eyes, remembering what it was like when his vision had gradually returned. ‘No!’ he laughed. ‘I could feel her skin. She was perfect.’
There was a swift movement, and suddenly the policeman had a notepad in is hand, but then it took him a while to think of anything else to ask, and when he did, it was boring.
‘How did the Lady react when you touched her?’
‘She told me to be a good boy.’
The man exhaled, and put his notepad away again. ‘Can you remember anything else from that day? Can you tell me who else was there?’
Alex rolled his eyes. ‘I remember you now. You keep coming here and you keep asking me to remember. I told you, I’m not allowed to.’
‘Not allowed to talk about it or not allowed to remember?’
‘I’m not allowed to worry. The Lady told me not to.’ The rain was making shiny circles all over his drawing, so he tore it free and started scribbling on a new sheet. His strokes were fast and angry.
‘Who is that you’re drawing now? Is that the Lady?’
‘Of course not. This is the Angel of Death. This one is of Lainie.’