Page 131 of Crocodile Tears

“It’s not the first time that’s happened to me.”

Alexander located a large holdall in one of the wardrobes and placed it on the bed. “Are there any items you specifically wish me to bring, sir?” he asked. “Any clothing you’d like to see me wearing? Certain styles of outfit?”

“Nope – just pack what you like best,” Josiah advised. “Be sure to pack a couple of suits, in case you end up in court.”

Giving a wry smile, Alexander began filling the case.

Josiah wandered around the room, trying to get a feel for its occupant, but it seemed almost deliberately devoid of character. Everything was decorated in the grand, plush style that Elliot had favoured.

Various print versions of Elliot’s pictures were hanging on the wall, most of them of Alexander. Josiah wondered what it had been like to sleep under their watchful gaze.

Not all the photos were of him, though: over the bed was a large print of the famousHalo of Fireholopic that also hung downstairs, in the lounge.

“No holopics? These are all static prints.” Josiah gestured at them.

Alexander grinned. “Yeah, I find the holopics a bit much, but they were Elliot’s babies, so I had to be tactful. I told him that the light boxes gave out too much glare, and I couldn’t sleep with them on. He said I could turn them off at night, but I asked for stills instead. That made him happy.”

There was no artwork on the walls that Alexander might have chosen himself – no personal knick-knacks, nothing that might have meant anything to him. Not a shell from the beach, a favourite item of jewellery, an ornament that held some sentimental value, or a photo of family or friends. It was all a complete blank, except…

There was a speaker beside the bed, with a music chip inserted.

“Bit old-fashioned, isn’t it?” Josiah raised an eyebrow.

“Yup. I wasn’t permitted to use any internet services, so he bought me this.”

Josiah clicked on the chip, and the opening bars of a song swelled around the room. It was a simple version of a familiar song, just one lone male voice singing with minimal musical accompaniment, lending it a stark simplicity.

Alexander stopped in the middle of folding a shirt.

“You listen to this kind of music?” Josiah asked, with an amused snort. “Didn’t peg you for the religious type.”

Alexander shrugged. “I’m not. I just like this song.”

“Make me a channel of your peace,” Josiah quoted. “Sounds pretty religious to me.”

“It is.” Alexander gave a tight smile. “It’s an old Catholic prayer, but that’s not why I like it.”

Josiah put his head on one side, listening.

Oh Master, grant that I may never seek,

So much to be consoled as to console,

To be understood, as to understand,

To be loved as to love with all my soul.

The music had a certain haunting quality, but Josiah couldn’t help wondering what a young man like Alexander took from such a song.

“I listen to it every morning before starting the day, to get myself in the right frame of mind,” Alexander said.

“Right frame of mind for what? Spreading peace and goodwill?” Josiah smirked.

“No. You’re missing the meaning of the lyrics.” Alexander sounded almost hurt.

“Explain it to me, then,” he requested, in a gentler tone.

“It helped me to find peace inside myself every day, and to achieve mastery over myself, so I could be useful to my houder. Because if I didn’t – if I let my ego, my own wants, desires, and petty wishes creep back in – then I’d lose my way, get lost, and then—” Alexander stopped suddenly, as if he’d said too much.

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