Disclaimer - I do not own Jealous Guy, by John Lennon or A2A)
A fragment of a song filled her shallow dream, sung brimming with regret by a deep, sweet male voice:
I was dreaming of the past
And my heart was beating fast
I began to lose control
I began to lose control
I didn´t mean to hurt you
I´m sorry that I made you cry
I didn´t mean to hurt you
I´m just a jealous guy...
"Oh dear...Lord...Luigi, you'll be the death of me..."
Alex groaned at the morning light. She struggled to open her eyes as the result of the previous night's over-indulgence of after-dinner Grappa shot through her head painfully - the red duvet cover assaulted her senses.
"Ow...note to self..." She mumbled, falling out of bed. "Never drink anything from Sicily that sounds like a wrestling move."
Struggling into her striped robe, she ambled into the kitchen and made herself a cup of tea, slowly waking up and feeling the raging pulse in her head fading into a low boom-boom.
Alex wandered into the bathroom, her clearing mind recalling mornings with Molly. It wasn't hard to get her up at all, she was usually awake before her mother was. Music on, sorting out her schoolbag, even making her own lunch if she wanted to. She was horribly practical and well-organised...a small, wistful smile played on her lips. I bet she's organising Evan. A moment of timelessness gripped her. That was the hard part, not knowing how long it had been...7 seconds, 7 years...I hope, I hope I'm still in that tunnel.
As she finished brushing her teeth, silently bemoaning the lack of electronic toothbrushes in 1981 - she leaned over to spit in the basin. When she looked up again she backed away in fright to see - instead of her reflection - the Clown looking at her from the other side of the mirror.
Alex stared, startled, a spill of curls falling over one eye - the Clown gazed back. She noted he wasn't wearing his hat, just a vivid red skull cap over his dark hair. He blinked at her and his expression went from sad to impassive.
She could it see - now - her father's face under the white mask of greasepaint. She was looking past it, unthinkingly reaching out a trembling finger to touch the mirror surface, tracing his cheek and eye...a fleeting memory of being lifted aloft, a safe embrace against an old sweater than smelt of books and costly cigarettes. She was suddenly aware the Clown's serious expression had softened.
The memory led to the explosion replaying. Her gaze was stinging, she withdrew her hand a little too quickly as if burned by the thought.
He tilted his head and leaned forward, breathing cold breath onto the mirror and writing onto the surface. His breath continued to spread across the mirror until he was obscured, when it cleared, only the the word remained.
"INRI"
Her eyes widened.
The phone shrieked and she almost jumped out of her skin, her head snapping around towards the sound. When she looked back, the mirror was clear but the word resounded in her head. INRI...on every crucifix...why had he shown her that? Her mind was racing.
She picked up the phone "Yes?"
"Drake, get down here now." Gene's sullen voice rumbled down the line. Good, he sounds as rough as I feel.
"What is it?"
"Missing woman, last seen walking across Tower Bridge arguing with a man - oh and get this, she's only a bloody nun. The God botherers at St Michaels and the Chief Super's been on the blower to bend my ear already..get a move on."
Alex looked back at the bathroom as she replaced the reciever.
"Alright..." She murmered. So that was it.
She got ready to leave, humming under her breath "I didn´t mean to hurt you...I´m just a jealous guy..."
Damn, it was catchy.