I can see Al now through Lizzie's eyes: that he is tender, and thoughtful, and loyal. She says he was never Axolotl Al to her, that he was always beautiful, that she must always have loved him. I can see the beauty of his pale skin and freckles and the dreamy way he lies on the floor with his books, Bella tucked tenderly into the crook of his arm.
When I go to see her, Lizzie and Al and I will take Bella in her pram for a walk, very late, through the dark streets, the tarred roads still breathing out daytime heat. There will be roses leaning out over the footpath, and Lizzie will pull them to herself and drink in their scent. She will tell me how she remembers our night walks through Mullumbimby, our exhilaration, and all the sadness we bore. She will say that she is happier now. Life, she will tell me, is meant to be like this.
JOANNE HORNIMAN was born in Murwillumbah, northern New South Wales, in 1951 and grew up in a huge old general store which her parents owned. Her brother and sister were teenagers by the time she was five. âOur family told lots of stories, many of them about their life before I was born, and I often felt left out. I think I became a writer to show them that I had stories that they didn't know.' She has worked as a teacher of adult literacy, and has written several books for children and teenagers.
Joanne and her partner live in a place they built themselves near Lismore. Their property is a haven for wildlife, as they have a creek, lots of shelter and natural food, and no dogs or cats. âTiny bats live in the walls of the house, goannas wander about, and in the evening you might see platypus in the creek, a rufous night-heron fishing, or flying foxes dipping into the water. It's no wonder that the place I live in often gets into my writing.'