Scrivener’s Tale. Fiona McIntosh

from her skirt.

      ‘Sorry?’ He wasn’t sure what she meant.

      ‘The swan quill. It wasn’t Reynard who told me. Everyone knows a scrivener needs the quill of a swan,’ she said airily, as though it was of no further interest to her. ‘It’s nice here. How long have you been in this apartment?’

      Everyone? He didn’t. But she’d moved on, he could tell. He would think on the quill later. Gabe looked around the apartment. ‘Er … let’s see … it must be coming up to four years. I’m glad you like it. I enjoy living here.’

      ‘You obviously live alone.’

      ‘I do. Not even a goldfish for company.’

      He thought she might have smiled but her gaze only became more intense. ‘Do you get lonely?’

      ‘I suppose I should, but I choose this lifestyle. I’m perfectly happy living alone with my coffee machine and working in a bookshop. How about you?’

      ‘What do you mean?’

      ‘Would you like to have a family, friends, a home?’

      ‘No,’ she murmured.

      That surprised him. His gaze narrowed. ‘You want to change your current situation though, I’m sure.’

      ‘Is that a question?’

      He smiled at her dry tone. ‘Do you remember anything about your life before the hospitals?’

      ‘I remember everything. I just don’t want to share it with doctors.’

      Gabe realised too late that he’d reacted far too obviously in sitting forward with a confused expression. Angelina had the grace to look away … far away out of the window.

      ‘Do you have a family?’ he asked, unable to help the question. The accepted rule was to avoid such directness at the outset, to approach all probing as obliquely as possible. He was so rusty.

      ‘No,’ she said, unfazed.

      Well, if she was happy to answer … ‘So where is home?’

      ‘A long way from here.’

      Before the session had begun, Gabe had not had any intention of going beyond winning her trust. But now he wanted to know everything about her; she was as intriguing as she was seductive. The more he looked and listened to her the more he realised that Angelina was needful, but not needy. It was physical help she was after, he now suspected. She wanted his help to get away from Reynard and the doctors, otherwise she’d never have allowed him to know she was not mute.

      She was, however, disarmingly charming and desirable and he was vaguely embarrassed at how she aroused him.

      He cleared his throat again. ‘Angelina —’

      ‘My friends call me by a different name.’

      Gabe was ready for her this time. He didn’t react. ‘Tell me about them?’

      ‘They’re elsewhere.’

      ‘Have you a plan to return to them?’

      Her eyes blazed. His question had fired some hidden desire deep within.

      ‘Yes,’ she replied, and for the first time since he’d set eyes on Angelina, she gave him her complete attention. Suddenly, it was as if no-one else existed in the world, just the two of them. ‘Are you going to help me?’ she asked.

      He realised he was nodding. He hadn’t meant to make any commitment beyond this single hour. But now he was under her spell.

      ‘Will you tell me why you’re scared of Reynard?’

      There it was, the question he’d promised himself he wouldn’t ask. His task was to give Angelina’s doctors a glimpse into the world in which she lived, not explore her fears in this opening session.

      Again, she felt none of his unease and replied with candour. ‘I know you think he cares about me, but he doesn’t.’

      ‘What do mean by that?’

      ‘I mean that you’re putting your trust in the wrong person. He’s trying to stop me getting home.’

      ‘Why would he do that?’

      ‘Because he’s scared of me.’

      ‘Why should he fear you?’

      ‘His fear is for you.’

      Gabe had to repeat that in his mind. Fears for me? he said silently with incredulity.

      He had to backtrack. ‘Firstly, why do you scare him?’

      ‘Because of what I can offer.’

      The meaning of her response was clouded, but it was also highly suggestive.

      ‘And what is it that you offer?’

      ‘Eternity,’ she replied, a little dreamily.

      He didn’t show his irritation at her response but decided to refocus her and deliberately reached forward to pick up his coffee. He sipped slowly, saying nothing, waiting for her attention to return. It tasted terrible. He was off his game. As he knew it would, his silence won her notice.

      She blinked, looked at him. ‘What?’ she asked, sounding as though she had missed what he’d said.

      ‘You wrote me a note. I have it here,’ he said, putting his glass down and digging in his pocket.

      ‘I know what it says.’

      ‘Will you explain it to me? Let’s return to the beginning. I mean, why you’re so frightened.’

      ‘I’m not when I’m here with you.’

      ‘Good. Why is that?’

      ‘Perhaps you’ve noticed how he watches my every move? He doesn’t let me out of his sight.’

      Gabe shrugged. ‘Well, that’s because he’s your physician and responsible for —’

      ‘No, Gabe. Can I call you Gabe?’ He wasn’t sure what to say but she’d taken his hesitation as permission. ‘He’s frightened of me leaving.’

      ‘Leaving?’ He frowned. ‘Paris?’

      Angelina threw out her arms. ‘No, here.’

      ‘My apartment,’ he qualified.

      She smiled as though he was simple. ‘This world.’

      He deliberately paused, allowing her comment to float around them for a few moments so that she could explain herself.

      ‘Are you surprised?’ she asked.

      ‘You demanded that Reynard not accuse you of being delusional. I have to wonder how you think you sound when you say something like you just did.’

      ‘I realise what I say is hard to grasp. It doesn’t mean I am delusional,’ she replied without hesitation. Her gaze was unswerving. ‘I’m far more sane than Reynard, who, by the way, is out of his mind with fear. Especially today because I am now closer to my goal than I have been in a very long time.’

      ‘Your goal. To leave Earth, you mean?’ he said, working at sounding reasonable. Yes, indeed, his skills definitely needed brushing up. This sort of interested tone used to come so easily.

      ‘Not Earth, Gabe. This world,’ she corrected.

      ‘Sorry,’ he said. ‘So your goal is to reach a point where you can exit this plane,’ he offered, believing that sounded catchy but also succinct.

      ‘Not reach a point, but the person who would take me away.’

      ‘Pardon,’ he said, more confused.

      ‘I’ve been looking for someone.’

      ‘And?’