by Rod Duncan
Harry was speaking — that calm, performance voice. ‘We’re connected. We always will be. A psychic thread runs between us. You can’t cut it.’
Pickman raised his hand, first towards Harry and then towards the girl. That’s when Morgan saw the knife. He made to leap forward, but Pickman’s fingers were already opening. The knife dropped and clattered onto the concrete.
‘Ambulance!’ Harry shouted. ‘Get an ambulance!’
Epilogue
Tia and Harry were sitting on the theatre balcony, watching the seats fill up below.
‘I want to know how you did it,’ she said.
‘What?’
‘At the press conference you told that woman she had her grandfather’s photo in a box. I saw it on TV.’
‘I said a box or an envelope. Everyone has some unsorted photos stashed away. And I said an old man. She was the one who said it was her grandfather. That’s what she wanted to believe.’
‘But you knew things — her name, where she worked.’
‘It’ll spoil it if I tell you.’
‘I’ll keep it secret.’
Harry weighed the decision, then said, ‘She was chatting to someone before the show. I just listened in.’
‘But anyone could have done that!’
‘Could have,’ he said, and winked. ‘What you should be asking is why Pickman didn’t kill us.’
Tia’s hand went to her wrist. It had been four weeks now and the stitches were out but he’d noticed how she still felt for them whenever she talked about her ordeal. A lot had happened in four weeks. Harry had become a celebrity. His new tour had sold out and Davina was walking on air. But most significantly, the publicity had scared off Angela and her husband from going back to court. Maybe Tia wasn’t his biological daughter. The truth was, it didn’t matter to him any more. It was enough that he loved her.
‘OK. Why did he release us?’ Tia asked.
‘Because of what I told him.’
‘He was loopy,’ she said. ‘You could have told him anything.’
‘I could only tell him what he already believed. That’s the only thing anyone really hears. His wife had left him. He’d had a breakdown, just like me. For two years he’d filled his life with the fantasy that we had some kind of magical connection.’
‘How did you know?’
‘I guessed. And I told him what he wanted to be told.’
Tia leaned into him and placed her head on his chest. ‘If people only hear what they already believe,’ she whispered, ‘how come they sometimes change?’
He let her rest there for a moment before lifting her off. ‘I’ve got to go.’ He kissed her on the forehead as he got up. Then he called across to the right. ‘Keep half an eye on her, will you?’
‘Sure thing,’ said the spotlight operator. ‘Break a leg.’
At last the house lights dropped. Harry Gysel strode onto the stage and waited for the applause and cheering to subside. ‘Ladies and gentlemen,’ he said. ‘There is more between heaven and earth than we will ever guess. But what you see tonight will be illusion.’
