On her lap lay a small copybook and the stub of a wooden pencil.
The faint sun passed behind a cloud, washing a pale shadow across her face.Her right hand jerked against the restraint and lazily she opened both eyes.They were so blue and clear – her mother’s eyes she had always been told – that they could almost be regarded as aquamarine.Large drops of rain plopped against the crown of her head. Leary sighed once again, “Sorry, dearie, I don’t get paid until next week and neither do you.” Mrs. For a brief moment of ecstasy she smelled the rain drenched, fresh smell of her mother’s wet hair. By whether or not it was sharp she would know if her mother had finally forgiven her for being such a disappointment. Miss Joyce’s remarkably pink and outsize hand closed around the packet. *****Page 1 – Clairvoyant, The Imagined Life of Lucia Joyce***** ON THE rolling lawn of Barnaderg Bay Hospital, the long-term patient known as Miss Lucia Joyce sat in a position of slack repose, in a patch of weak sunlight.
Her left wrist was braceleted by a canvas posy, the right by a loose cloth only.
Her eyes were shut though the left lid fluttered ever so slightly.
Her wavy gingerbread-and-gray hair looked as though it had recently been permed.
The charge nurse, Sister Leary, hurried from inside the greystone chapel, where she had been saying her Rosary.
Her face showed concern as the rain began to fall; holding on to her white starched hat, she broke into a run.
Reaching the clumsy wheelchair, she hurriedly pushed it across the emerald lawn. Miss Joyce showed not the slightest interest in the rain, squinting distractedly at something just out of eye range. From the other pocket she removed a packet of Woodbine cigarettes, because she couldn’t afford Sweet Aftons until payday.