Saturday, August 23, 2008
The Girl Returns
No walk with Felicia this morning. She had an ‘exclusive gallery opening’ last night and had to rush in early this morning to clear up after it. That’s the trouble with art – it’s so damned messy. For every masterpiece there’s some poor bugger cleaning up a smear of oil paint and a red wine stain off the shagpile.
Still, not having her with me gave me the chance to saunet a bit where I wouldn’t normally take Felicia. The graveyard at St. Jude’s for example. That was a surprise, for who should be standing over the grave of Steven Lowry but his recently deceased ex-wife, Pennie.
I wandered across to her. The grave was simple earth – too fresh for the grass to grow over it, and they don’t ‘do’ mounds in graveyards any more as it’s not politically correct to show the soil displacement made by a coffin. Instead the excess soil is spread over the flower beds at the edge of the land. There was no headstone yet, either, though I knew one had been ordered. “May your spirit roam free” was an appropriate phrase for a man whose soul was tied to an immortal homunculus.
“What are you doing here?” I said. “I thought you and Steve here were off to see the world? You can’t have seen all that much of it in three weeks.”
“We got as far as Southampton,” she said, gliding away from the grave. “By the time I’d showed him how to apply make-up to pass as vaguely human and sign language to cover his inability to speak, I remembered why we’d got divorced in the first place.”
“Why was that?”
The ghost shrugged apologetically. “He’s got a one-track mind,” she said. “All he talks about is quantum mechanics.”