Josie, even with her cheek pressed into the pillow, wouldn’t actually be asleep, and often she’d continue to make remarks with her eyes closed. So she was fully aware I was observing the pictures as I gathered them, and clearly didn’t mind. In fact, it’s likely it was her wish that I look at each and every one of them.

Once, while performing this tidying, I happened to pick up a sheet, and though I glanced at it only fleetingly, established straight away that the two main faces in the picture were supposed to represent Missy and the long-armed girl from the interaction meeting. There were, of course, various inaccuracies, but Josie’s intention was obvious. The sisters were at the front of the picture, with unkind expressions, while other less finished faces crowded around them. And although there were no furniture details I knew the setting was the Open Plan. Had it not been for a large bubble above it, it would have been easy not to notice the small, featureless creature squeezed into the gap between the sisters. In contrast to the Picture Missy and the Picture Long-Armed Girl, this creature lacked the usual human features, such as face, shoulders, arms, and resembled more one of the water blobs that formed on the surface of the Island near the sink. In fact, if not for the bubble above it, a passer-by might not even have guessed this shape was intended to represent a person at all. The sisters were ignoring the Water Blob Person completely, despite the person’s closeness. Inside the bubble, Rick had written:

‘The smart kids think I have no shape. But I do. I’m just keeping it hidden. Because who wants them to see?’

Although I only glimpsed this picture for a second, Josie knew I’d taken it in, and she said from the bed in a sleepy voice:

‘Don’t you think that’s a weird thing for him to write?’

When I gave a small laugh and carried on tidying, she went on:

‘Do you suppose he thinks I meant that to be him? The little guy between the two nasties? Do you suppose that’s why he filled the bubble that way?’

‘It’s possible.’

‘But you don’t think so. Do you, Klara?’ Then she said: ‘Klara, you listening? Come on. Can we have a comment here?’

‘It’s perhaps more likely he assumed the small person was Josie.’

She said nothing else while I ordered the various sheets into piles and placed them with the previous ones in a space beneath the dressing table. I thought she’d fallen asleep, when she said suddenly:

‘What makes you say that?’

‘It’s only an estimate. I think that Rick thought the small person was Josie. And I believe Rick was trying to be kind.’

‘Kind? Why is that being kind?’

‘I believe Rick worries about Josie. How she sometimes appears to change in different situations. But in this picture, Rick is being kind. Because he’s suggesting Josie is being clever to protect herself and isn’t really changing.’

‘So what if I sometimes want to act different? Who wants to be the same all the time? The trouble with Rick is he always gets accusing when I’m any way he doesn’t like. It’s because he wants me to stay the way I was when we were small kids.’

‘I don’t really think that’s what Rick wishes.’

‘Then what’s all this? All this no shape, hiding stuff? I don’t see what’s kind about it. That’s Rick’s problem. He doesn’t want to grow up. At least, his mother doesn’t want him to and he goes along with it. The idea is he lives with his mom for ever and ever. How’s that going to help our plan? Any time I show any sign of trying to grow up, he gets sulky.’

I said nothing to this, and Josie continued to lie there with her eyes closed. She did fall asleep then, but just before she did, she said quietly:

‘Maybe. Maybe he did mean it to be kind.’

I wondered if Josie would bring up this particular picture – and the words inside the bubble – during Rick’s next visit. But she didn’t, and I realized there was a kind of rule between them not to talk directly about any of the pictures or bubble words once they’d been completed. Perhaps such an understanding was necessary in allowing them to draw and write freely. Even so, as I have said, I considered from the start that their bubble game was filled with danger, and it was what brought about the sudden end to Rick’s thirty-minute visits.

* * *

—

It was a rainy afternoon, but the Sun’s patterns still came faintly into the bedroom. There’d been around then a run of fairly relaxed visits, and the mood that day had also been quite comfortable. Then twelve minutes into the visit – they were again playing the bubble game – Josie said from the bed:

‘What’s going on down there? Haven’t you finished yet?’

‘I’m still thinking.’

‘Ricky, the idea’s you don’t think. You write down the first thing that comes to you.’

‘Fair enough. But this one requires more thought.’

‘Why? What’s different about it? Hurry it up. I’ve nearly finished this next one.’

In the window reflections, I could see Rick at his usual place on the floor, knees drawn up so that he could rest the picture on them, both hands down at his sides. He was staring at the picture before him with a puzzled expression. After a while, without pausing from her drawing, Josie said:

‘You know, I always meant to ask. Why is it your mom won’t drive any more? You still have that car, right?’

‘No one’s started it up in years. But yeah, it’s still in the garage. Maybe once I get my license, I’ll get it checked over.’

‘Is it like she’s afraid of accidents?’

‘Josie, we’ve talked about this already.’

‘Yeah, but I don’t remember. Is it because she got too scared?’

‘Something like that.’

‘My mom, she’s the reverse. Drives way too fast.’ When Rick didn’t respond, she asked: ‘Ricky, you still haven’t filled that in?’

‘I’ll get there. Just give me a moment.’

‘Not driving’s one thing. But doesn’t your mom mind not having friends?’

‘She has friends. That Mrs Rivers comes all the time. And she’s friends with your mum, isn’t she?’

‘That’s not really what I mean. Anyone can have one or two individual friends. But your mom, she doesn’t have society. My mom doesn’t have so many friends either. But she does have society.’

‘Society? That sounds rather quaint. What’s it mean?’