The priest talked about dust and earth and resurrection.
When I saw him, and heard those words, I thought about Father McKean and everything he’d meant to me and others like me. It was terrible to find out what was behind those eyes and what he was capable of doing, terrible to discover how evil can even reach places you’d think it could never reach.
They explained to me that his conscious mind wasn’t responsible for his actions, but only that part of him that was in the grip of something wicked that he had no control over.
As if there are two different souls inside one body.
That wasn’t hard to accept. It was easy to understand, because I’ve felt it myself.
I saw that sick part go down into the grave together with the body of Greta Light, my mother. Two corruptible parts, destined to return to the earth and turn back to dust. She and Father McKean, their true, living essences, will always be close to me and the person I will become. As I looked at Vivien’s eyes, I realized, through the grief and the tears, that I had glimpsed the right path.
My father didn’t come to the funeral.
He phoned me and said he was on the other side of the world and couldn’t get back in time. Once, I would have missed him. I might even have cried. Now I have more important things to cry about.
I have a family. And he’s chosen not to be part of it.
When it was all over and the people were already walking away, I stood there in the rain with Vunny in front of the freshly moved earth that smelled of musk and rebirth.
After a while she turned her head, and I saw where she was looking.
Standing there in the rain was a tall man, without a hat or an umbrella, but wearing a dark raincoat. I recognized him straight away. It was Russell Wade, the guy who followed the case with her and is publishing a series of articles in the New York Times called ‘The True Story of a False Name’.
He used to appear in the papers because he’d been involved in some pretty dubious things. Now he seems to have found a way to turn everything around. That means that anything can change, when you least expect it and if you really want it. Vivien gave me the umbrella to hold and I saw her walk towards him in the driving rain.
They talked for a while and then he walked away. As he was going, I saw my aunt stand there watching him.
When she came back, I saw a new kind of sadness in her eyes, different from her sadness over Mother’s death.
I squeezed her hand and she understood. I’m sure that sooner or later we’ll talk.
Now I’m here, still at Joy, sitting in the garden, and the sky is clear of rain. In front of me is a stretch of water reflecting the sun. It seems like a good omen. I’ve understood many things in this place, in the simplest possible way. I’ve learned them day by day. While I was trying to understand the guys I was living with, I think I started to know myself.
I’ve discovered that the community isn’t going to close, thanks to the government taking an interest. Even though Vivien has suggested I go live with her, I’ve decided that I’ll stay here in future, and lend a hand, if they want it. I don’t need Joy any more but I like to think Joy needs me.
My name is Sundance Green and tomorrow I’ll be eighteen.
I press the button on the intercom and my secretary replies with her usual efficiency.
‘Yes, Mr Wade?’
‘Hold my calls for the next quarter of an hour.’
‘Of course, Mr Wade.’
‘No, make that half an hour.’
‘Yes, Mr Wade. Enjoy your reading.’
There’s a hint of amusement in her voice. I think she knows why I’ve taken this time. After all, she was the one who brought in the copy of the New York Times that’s now lying in front of me on the desk. On the front page there’s a headline so big you could see it from a plane.
The TrueStory of a False Name -Part Three.
But what interests me most is the name of the writer.
I start reading the article and it takes me a couple of columns to realize that it’s damned good. I’m so surprised that I reserve the right to feel proud for a second time. Russell has the ability to draw the reader in and not let go of him. Of course, the story’s a pretty gripping one anyway, but I must say he tells it brilliantly.
The light on the intercom comes on and my secretary’s voice takes me by surprise.
‘Mr Wade-’
‘What is it? I told you I didn’t want to be disturbed.’
‘Your son’s here.’
‘Send him in.’
I slip the copy of the newspaper into my desk drawer. If anyone asked, I’d say I did it in order not to embarrass my son.
I’d be lying.
I really did it in order not to embarrass myself. I hate feeling embarrassed. It’s a feeling I’ve sometimes spent hundreds of thousands of dollars to avoid.
After a couple of moments, Russell comes in. He looks calm and rested. He’s wearing decent clothes and has even shaved.
‘Hi, Dad.’
‘Hello, Russell. I must congratulate you. You seem to have become a celebrity. And I’m sure it’ll make you a whole lot of money.’
He shrugs. ‘There are some things in life that money can’t buy.’
I reply with a similar gesture. ‘I’m sure there are, but I’m not very familiar with them. In my life I’ve always dealt with the other things.’
He sits down facing me and looks me in the eyes. It’s a nice feeling.
‘Enough of the two-bit philosophizing,’ I say. ‘What can I do for you?’
‘I’m here to thank you. And I’m also here on business.’
I wait for him to continue. In spite of everything, my son has always had the ability to arouse my curiosity. Not to mention the ability to make me lose my temper like no one else.
‘Without your help, I’d never have achieved the results I did. I’ll be eternally grateful to you for that.’
I’m very pleased to hear these words. I’d never have imagined that one day I’d hear them from Russell’s mouth. But I’m still curious.
‘And what kind of business do you have with me?’
‘You have something of mine that I’d like to buy back.’
At last I understand, and I can’t help smiling. I open the desk drawer and from under the newspaper take out the contract he signed in return for my involvement. I place it on the desk, halfway between the two of us. ‘Are you referring to this?’