Ondine Page #3

- Oh, she sings.

Who sings?

The woman in the story

I told you about.

- With the fisherman?

- Yes.

She sings to the

fishes and he catches them.

- You sure you're not dreaming, Da?

- Dreaming?

Yeah. You sure this isn't

some weird wish-fulfilment thing?

- Where did you learn words like that?

- I go to school.

- And I didn't?

- No. Let's be honest, you didn't.

- You move your mouth when you read.

- Is that bad?

No, but it means something.

So she sings, does she?

Yeah. A song in a

language he has never heard.

- That would be Selk.

- Selk?

A kind of seal talk.

- Do you know why she sings?

- Why?

That's the way they

communicate underwater.

- They don't speak, they sing.

- So the lobster hear her singing.

What lobster?

What I mean is, under the water

they hear her singing?

- The denizens of the deep.

- Are you sure?

- She's a seal. She's not human.

- She looks human.

- In the story?

- Yes, in the story.

- Whose story is this?

- It's mine.

- You're making it up?

- Yeah. For you.

- What're you planning for the weekend?

- Practising my new wheels.

Curious.

- Got you some things.

- Things?

- Messages.

- Messages?

Yeah, food and stuff. Even girls from

the water... You need to eat, right?

You need clothes.

Need to... tie their shoelaces.

Curiouser and curiouser.

- You know my size?

- Tracy in the shop.

She looked like... your size.

Thank you.

- Can I...

- What?

- Can I clean up this place?

- I suppose.

- How long are you staying?

- Depends, I guess.

- On what?

- On you.

On me? It depends on me,

you can stay forever.

- Forever?

- Forever.

Happily ever after.

Once upon a time.

I've been...

telling my daughter a story.

A fairytale.

What's the story, Da?

That's great. See you, Deirdre.

Hi, Annie.

God, you've a load of books there.

- I'm researching.

- Researching what?

Something on seals, is it?

My name's Syracuse,

and I'm an alcoholic.

I've told you before, Circus, that

confessional is not a chapter of AA.

Well, there's none in this town, Father.

I've been sober two years,

seven months and 18 days.

This is where they all clap, Father.

- Did you see that in the movies?

- Yes.

- Thank you.

- So, tell me.

I had a dream, Father.

I'm at his funeral and she's beside me,

and I'm panicking again.

Maybe you still want to be with her.

No, I'm panicking because

I'm back with her.

Can't happen. She's still drinking.

All I want is Annie.

Perhaps you need

to talk to someone, Circus.

- It's Syracuse. And I'm talking to you.

- No, I mean a counsellor.

I could put you both in touch

with one if you'd give me permission.

You have no permission.

I only talk to you because it's secret.

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