The Boy Who Could See Demons by Carolyn Jess-Cooke

turned pink and squidgy.

8
    DEMON HUNTING
    Anya
    Yesterday I had the opportunity of meeting Jojo Kennings and seeing a run-through of the adaptation of Hamlet she is putting on at the Grand Opera House in a couple weeks’ time. Alex seemed comfortable, if not a little shy, though I saw him beaming over at me once or twice when Jojo applauded his efforts. Admittedly I hadn’t been inside the Grand Opera House for many, many years – my memories were still fresh of when they pulled the shutters down and scheduled the beautiful building for demolition at the height of the Troubles. Jojo remembered this, too. ‘It’s one of the reasons I pushed so hard for this project,’ she explained, during a brief tour of the auditorium and the stage. A teenage kid was attempting to reposition a light overhead, and although Jojo assured me that he was trained and equipped to be hanging precariously from a height of some thirty feet above, the clanks and creaks made me look up frequently.
    I followed Jojo down the small narrow steps from the Grand Circle to the front of the stage. A young girl with a long pink wig and a shell suit – Bonnie, Jojo told me, who was cast as Ophelia – ran up to Jojo and asked her for change for the vending machine. Jojo sighed and dug her hand deep into her enormous jacket.
    ‘There you go,’ she told Bonnie, who wrinkled her nose as she smiled. ‘Don’t tell the others, mind.’
    ‘You give the kids money?’ I said, once Bonnie had gone out of earshot.
    Jojo gave a dramatic sigh. ‘I can’t help it, they’ve started to feel more like family than my cast.’ She stopped and looked up at the ornate ceiling above us. ‘None of these kids recall anything beyond the Stormont Agreement, and most of their home lives are so colourful that the outside world is alien and insignificant. They aren’t in touch with their heritage.’
    I felt there was a little more to her drive for the project than heritage – the power that lies in handing people their dreams, for example. ‘What about Alex?’ I asked. ‘Why did you pick him for this project?’
    ‘Talent is a difficult thing to put into words,’ she said, bending down to pick up an abandoned microphone. ‘But Alex is gifted. He has a way of seeing right into the human soul, though I don’t even think he knows he’s doing it.’
    ‘How so?’
    She dusted down the mic. ‘Despite his young age, Alex has the ability to perceive the angelic and the demonic in a human being. He sees the good and the bad and he understands a lot more than your average ten-year-old.’ She paused. ‘Though now I think I know a little more about why that might be.’
    ‘How has he taken to working as part of a group of children? Have there been any fights? Outbursts?’
    She looked at me knowingly. ‘We had a team of social workers here for the first few weeks. You’ve met Michael, I presume?’
    ‘Of course.’
    ‘He usually comes to check up on Alex, make sure he’s hunky-dory. And the parents are always welcome.’ She glanced at a handful of men and women seated at the top of the auditorium. ‘Alex’s mother has never been. And to answer your question, Alex has been the most affable and easy-going of the bunch. I was very concerned when I found his mother in that state, of course. I didn’t even realise he had a problem until …’ She looked down. ‘Until your email.’
    I could see my email had unsettled her. Suddenly her plan to pluck Belfast’s diamonds from the rough and put them into the spotlight had revealed a flaw – what if one of them cracked on opening night?
    At that, Alex made an appearance on stage, directly under the spotlight, which was starting to sound as if it was going to fall off any minute. Jojo shielded her eyes and looked up at the boy amongst the rafters.
    ‘Everything OK up there?’
    A voice shouted down. ‘Fixed it.’
    ‘One more thing,’ I said quickly. She fixed a pair of silver eyes on me. ‘Could I get a copy of