Lusia

 

"Lusia" was first portrayed by Jacqueline on book covers and promotional material. Over the years different models, and indeed actresses, portrayed her on covers and in films. A tiny number of people enthusiastically confuse Jacqueline with the person whom I give the name "Lusia" in my book. Less so the actress on the cover of the second edition, or the various people who have represented her in documentary reconstructions, largely because these people are only known professionally. Whereas Jacqueline was someone closely connected to me who accompanied me on early photo-shoots and sometimes interviews. I did not always disabuse the entanglement in order to protect the identity of the real "Lusia," who to this day remains anonymous and unidentified.

The night produced "Lusia." The sunniest of days revealed Jacqueline. They were very different people. As one grew into a mature young woman who drifted out of focus as the serious career choices under consideration threatened our relationship; the other swept into my life and for a while consumed it. Jacqueline said close to the end: "If I am with you life will not be dull, that's for sure!" I encouraged her to take the another course, one that she was considering, knowing it would take her away from me. We parted on the best of terms, but the break had to be absolute. I was immersed in the nightmare case of the Highgate Vampire, which was not something I would have involved anyone in. Jacqueline had modelled for me, and had been with me at various times when borderline, albeit unrelated, incidents occurred, eg an exorcism at a vandalised Islington church. In order to protect her it was necessary to point her in the direction of a safer and more predictable life.

 

Meanwhile, "Lusia" continued to intrude into my everyday existence. My initial discovery of her was one of sheer delight tinged with a terrible sadness which grew stronger until it finally eclipsed her. It would be within the sombre tones of an apt piece of music that she became enshrouded. 

Rarely published image of the real "Lusia."

In my book, I wrote: "Her cascading flaxen tresses caught the dull illumination of the moonlight in their pale reflection. Somewhere, in the background, I could hear the dying pulses of Strauss’ solemn orchestral work, Metamorphosen. It haunts me to this day." 

"Lusia" was touched by what lies beyond earthly confines, and became part of the vortex of hideous visions and visitations associated with Highgate Cemetery at that time. I glimpsed an indistinct figure toward the end, a figure swathed in a white cerement, her face the colour of marble save for her mouth, which seemed full and wanton. This was not the "Lusia" I had first known. It was something else. A shade of something that had been sucked dry of life. She nevertheless lives in the hearts of those who knew her and hopefully on the canvas from all those years ago. Her portrait in oils has been immortalised by a history in which she played a significant part. My style altered even during the years I added paint when creating the portrait and is today significantly different.