“Yes. Why do we need a picture?”
He let the air settle in his lungs again. It
was strange how she could disarm him so quickly with such a seemingly innocent query. “People at funerals like a picture. It helps them to remember.”
“I remember Grandma.”
“I know you do.” He bent forward and kissed her head. “I hope you always will.”
Then she hit him where it really hurt. “We haven’t got a picture of Joseph Henry.”
“No,” he said quietly. “No, we haven’t.” He glanced at a piece of paper secured to the pin board above his desk. Written on it were the numbers 3:15:22.
One tragic point in time that would beetched through the middle of his heart for
ever.
“We could pretend, couldn’t we?”
Alexa said suddenly.
“Sorry?” he said, shaking that awful
memory away.
“We could pretend
that’s
him.” She pointed excitedly at baby Lucy.
A tear pushed itself over David’s cheek. “I don’t think that would be right, Lexie.”
She heard the drip on the arm of thechair and prodded the wet stain with herfinger. She looked up at his face, thenagain at the blot. “Daddy, why are tearshot?”
He intercepted the next one before itcould fall. “Oh, it’s just… the dragoncoming out of you.”
Alexa looked up at one of thesculptures. Four of her grandmother’s
award-winning creations were ranged on the shelving above the computer. “Does a dragon keep its fire in its
tears
, then?” She gasped in that extraordinary way a child does when they know they have made a great discovery.
“Oh, yes,” David heard himself saying. No matter the mood, his storytelling functions always kicked in. “Not many people know about it, though.”
“Can I tell Bonnington?”
“I think
he
probably knows.”
There was a pause. Then she said, “Are you going to do a story about them?”
“What, dragon tears?”
“Yes!” She bounced with glee, as if she’d already placed an order for the first edition. “I want to be in it. I want to be a
fairy. No, a boy. No, an angel!”
Boy? That intrigued him. He slotted that away for future musing. “You’re already an angel,” he told her. “Well, sometimes.”
“David, the cars are here!”
“Time to go,
Angel
.” He lifted her down.
“Do it tomorrow.”
He laughed and tapped the screen,sending the photograph to his printer. “No. Not tomorrow.”
“The day after, then!”
“No.”
She huffed like mad. So Lucy. So Merriman. His mother had always lovedthat.
“What about—?”
“After Christmas, okay? I’ll think about
it then. When I’m done… writing about
Rosa.”
“And Joseph Henry’s got to be in it.”
David picked up the print. “You want
Joseph in the dragon book, too?”
“Yes!”
“Why?”
“Because then we’ll have a picture of him, in
here
.” She was pointing to her head, but looking past her father as if she had seen the boy’s face at the window.
“What is it?” said David. “What can
you see?”
Alexa shrugged and let her gaze drift into the future. “Nothing,” she said. “It’s snowing again.”
Part Nine
Interview
The Nathan James television
show, eighteen years later
The lights dim on a lavish televisionstudio. A desk is positioned to the righthand side, angled to face a comfortablesofa and coffee table. Behind the desk is a
panoramic backdrop of the London skyline. To the left of the studio a music stage is set for a band: microphones, drum kit, tuned guitars glistening on their stands. A red light blinks on an amplifier. A stage manager in a headset comes out. He silences the audience, then counts from five to zero with his fingers. At zero, the lights come up, the entrance music begins and a pair of doors slide open. Nathan
James, the well-known televisionpresenter, steps out to greet his whoopingaudience.
He is dressed in an immaculate greysuit and over-extravagant matching tie. Hewaves and says ‘thank you’ several timesto the crowd, smiling as if he has won anelection. He passes a hand through hisshoulder-length hair, which is almost aswell-groomed as his suit. He walks to hismark and straightens his cuffs. A smile aswide as the Thames lights his face. Awoman ‘wolf-whistles’. He says ‘thankyou’ to her. The audience laugh.
For the next two minutes, he deliverssome weak, anecdotal humour, based ontopical issues in the news. Then he invitesthe audience to look towards the studio
screen to see who is appearing on his show this evening. They see Eddie Supple, the popular UK gymnast, fourtime Olympic gold medal winner and face of
Stretch
, the best-selling moisturiser for men. Next to him is the TV chef and
occasional magician, Pierre Crouton. He greets Nathan with a conjurer’s flourish and produces a large blue egg in his hand. The audience clap. James asks Pierre if he’s planning an omelette for his next trick? Pierre waggles a finger and flips his hand. The egg disappears (making James go ‘Woah!’) but there is nothing in the magician’s hands. His eyes, however, suggest that the camera should pan sideways. James buys it and says, ‘Okay, let’s see what we’ve got… ’
The camera alights on what appears tobe an empty seat, but slowly drops downto show a small clay dragon. It is Gadzooks. The audience clap and cheer. ‘All right,’ says James. ‘I think we allknow who
that
belongs to. Assuming Pierre’s not moved her into a paralleluniverse, let’s get her out here. Ladies andgentlemen, please welcome my first guest,a rising star of British cinema. The oneand only, the gorgeous, the super-talented, Angel Merriman!’
Enraptured clapping fills the studio. Angel appears at the sliding doors,holding Gadzooks. She nods warmly to theaudience. Her electrifying smile lights upthe set. She is indeed gorgeous. Herfamous cascading hair has been tied back
into a fox-brush effect. She is wearing an elegant one-piece dress, dark blue, perfectly matched to her eyes. She walks on to the sound of her father’s song, ‘Fire Star’, which is riding high on the download charts. She exchanges a pouting air-kiss with James, then walks to the sofa as if ice itself could not unbalance her.
She sits down and puts Gadzooks on thetable, turning him to face the interviewer’sdesk.
James leans forward, reaching out ahand. Affecting an air of worry, hewhispers, “Is he real? Does he bite? Doeshe, y’know… ?” He makes a reasonableattempt at a ‘hurr’. Angel smiles. Sheadjusts her dress so she can sit backcomfortably. “Only if you don’t believe in
him, Nathan.”
The audience chuckle.
James leans back in his leather chair. “I
take it he’s just… ?”
“Acting solid – for the cameras, yes.”
The audience chuckle again.
“And is he the real one, the original
Gadzooks?”
“This is him,” Angel says adoringly. “Gretel wanted to come as well, but we might not have kept her under control.”
James grins, showing off a set of piano keys for teeth. He likes the fact that he’s being teased. “Gretel, she’s the one with the flowers, yeah?”
“The feisty one. The one you don’t want to mess with.”
“I wouldn’t want to mess with any of
them,” he says. He peers at Gadzooks. “Is he looking at me?”
“Probably. He does like you. He watches your show all the time at home.”
James laughs and pats a hand on his desk. “Give over, will you? Now you’re freaking me out.”
Angel raises a taunting eyebrow.
The audience laugh at Nathan’s pretence of discomfort. He glances at Gadzooks again, then stacks his note cards and cheerily says, “So, what do I call you? Alexa or Angel? Or Agawin?!” he adds before she can respond.
She laughs and says, “Anything you like
– maybe not Agawin. It’s usually
‘Angel’.”
“How did the name come about? I’m
assuming, of course, you don’t actually have wings.”
She puts out her hands and flaps them a little.
“Stop it-tt,” he says.
The audience laugh again.
“There was another Alexa in my class at drama school. Calling myself Angel seemed a good way of avoiding confusion. It just stuck. I like angels. They’re cool, don’t you think?”
James is clearly not sure how to answer this. He opts for, “This is the essence of your father’s books, isn’t it? They play around with the idea that dragons and angels and so forth are real.”
“Careful,” she says. “He’s got very good ears.” She nods at Gadzooks.
The audience laugh as Nathan sighs. “Will you give this up now?”
“Okay,” she peeps.
He prepares to ask his next question,but amuses the studio by checking on Gadzooks again, just in case. “Is it okay totalk about the books? I know your dad’snot very forthcoming about them.”
Angel sits back, crossing her legs. “Oh, I wouldn’t say that. He just hates the ideaof taking his writing apart and putting itback together again. He wants people toread them and think.”
“They are pretty deep,” Nathan prompts. “My eldest daughter, Jess, has read them all. She says they’re
‘challenging’.”
Angel nods. “Kids often write in and
say they’ve read them four or five times before they’ve grasped what Dad was getting at, or what they think he was getting at. But the true fans seem to like the intrigue. The movie will make it clearer.”
James swivels his seat. “You’re talking now about
Icefire
, of course.”
“Have you seen it?”
“I have. I loved it. I thought you were fantastic. My kids were enthralled.”
“Thank you.”
“We’ll see a clip from the film in a minute. But I have to ask, was it strange, playing the role of your mother? The characters, I believe, are based very much on your family set-up.”
“Pretty much, yes.”
“So, Mum? How was that?”
“Fine,” Angel says with a shrug of modesty. “I got to boss my ‘dad’ around. That was cool.”
The audience approve of this.
“You also had to kiss him. That must
have been weird?”
“Kissing Johnny Delph? Oh no, that
wasn’t weird.”
The women in the room clearlyappreciate where Angel is coming from.
James tells them to calm themselves –
then raises the temperature for the men. “We’ve got a photo of you and your mum at the premiere.”
“Really?” Angel turns to look at the screen. Sure enough, a picture comes up of herself and Zanna on the red carpet, linking arms. Zanna, in all black, looks
amazing – ice cool and very chic. A point
not lost on James.
“Wow, she is a good-looking woman,
isn’t she?”
Angel gapes at him now. She can’t quitebelieve what he just said. Then shereveals, “She’s in the audience, actually.”
“What?!” James is genuinely shocked. “No?”
“Yeah. Dad’s here, too.” She scans the
faces. “There.”
The camera picks them out. Davidsmiles politely. His hair is shorter than hiseponymous hero’s and there is a neat lineof stubble on his chin these days. Zannadoesn’t smile. She simply melts thecamera with her gothic stare.
James wiggles his tie. He blows a
breath to cool his exaggerated rapture. In a conspiratorial fashion he says, “Do you think you can put in a word for me… ?”
“With Mum?”
James makes his eyebrows dance.
“You’re not her type.”
The audience howl as James feignshurt. He tries again. “I’ve got this polarbear outfit I wore for the office fancydress party… ”
Angel laughs and chews her lip. “I seeyou more as a squirrel.”
“Awww… ” James throws up his handsat this rebuff. But he laughs and takes it allin good spirit. “Seriously, could I meether? I use her products!” He smoothes hisface. He’s referring to the fact that Zannahas a successful line of natural health and
beauty products, used by men and women
alike.
Angel nods. “She’d approve of that. I’msure she’d be happy to chat to youafterwards.”
The camera picks out Zanna again. Shebarely raises a smouldering eyebrow.
“Was that a yes?” begs James.
“As close as it ever gets.”
“All right.” He straightens hisshoulders, tosses back his hair. He’s ahappy presenter now. “Let’s have a lookat you being your mum. This is one of myfavourite scenes, where David and Zannafirst meet the villainess of the piece, Gwilanna.”