Scrivener’s Tale

‘I should tell you that Angelina is mute,’ Reynard said. ‘She is not unable to talk, I’m assured, but she is choosing not to talk.’ He shrugged. ‘It’s where you come in, I hope.’

She hadn’t shifted her gaze from Gabe and now — as if to spite Reynard — shook her head and he realised it was in answer to his earlier question. He persisted. ‘If you could be anywhere, where would you go?’ He reached for his coffee.

She blinked slowly as if she didn’t understand the question. Then turned to Reynard and pointed at the sugar up on the counter. Reynard looked in two minds. He cast a gaze around to nearby tables but it seemed sugar wasn’t routinely left on them.

Gabe frowned. ‘Er, I think you’ll have to go to the counter,’ he suggested.

It was clear Reynard didn’t want to get up. Angelina pushed her coffee aside suggesting she wouldn’t drink it without the sugar. It was done gently but the message seemed forceful enough. As a couple, they were intriguing. Gabe felt a tingling sense of interest in unravelling the secrets of the relationship before him.

Reynard rose. ‘Back in a moment,’ he said.

Angelina was astonishingly pretty in her elfin way but she shocked him as his gaze returned from Reynard to her. ‘Help me.’

He coughed, spluttering slightly with a mouthful of coffee. ‘So much for being mute,’ he remarked.

‘You have to get me away from him,’ she urged, fumbling for his hand beneath the small table. ‘Don’t look at it now. Just take this,’ she said, pressing a small note into his hand.

Reynard was back. ‘There you are,’ he said, sliding a couple of sticks of sugar onto the table.

Gabe was in no small state of shock at her outburst. The girl was obviously frightened of the physician.

‘So,’ Reynard began, sipping his drink, ‘Angelina will not mind me saying this, I’m sure, but she is suffering a form of depression. She has feelings of persecution and —’

‘Wait,’ Gabe interrupted. ‘If she’s mute how can you know any of this?’

‘Previous notes from previous doctors,’ Reynard answered. ‘“Delusional” is the word that has been used time and again. Her muteness is a recent affliction. Remember, she’s choosing not to speak.’

‘Since you began treating her, do you mean?’

Reynard sipped his coffee slowly and didn’t give any indication of offence. ‘She’s not prepared to communicate with doctors anymore. I don’t think it’s directed specifically at me.’

Gabe flicked a glance at Angelina and the surreptitious look she gave him over the rim of her cup contradicted Reynard’s claim.

‘Angelina is frightened and capable of harming herself,’ Reynard continued, unaware of the silent message. ‘But if, Gabriel, you can be persuaded, I think you might be the right person to guide her through this.’

‘This what?’ Gabe asked.

Reynard looked at him quizzically, his silvery eyebrows knitted together. ‘This period in her life, of course. You’re my last hope. If I can I’d like to find her family, get her reconnected and hopefully out of enforced care — which is all that she can look forward to unless we can fix this.’

Gabe put his cup down deliberately softly to hide his exasperation. ‘When you say “last hope”, Reynard, what exactly do you mean?’

Reynard sat forward. ‘I’ve saved her from mental health hospitals. I’ve taken her on as a special case with a promise that I will find the right doctor for her. Soon she’ll be returned to the care of institutions and become a ward of the state … and you know what that means. She’ll be lost to the corridors of madness. They’ll drug her, labelling her schizophrenic or bipolar, and they’ll move on to the next youngster. She’ll be tied to a bed, kept like a zombie for most of her waking hours, they’ll —’

‘I work in a bookshop,’ Gabe appealed. ‘I’m writing a book,’ he added, his hands open in a helpless gesture, a desperate attempt to avoid this task.

‘Ah, yes, the scrivener,’ Reynard replied. ‘It’s your distance from your previous profession, perhaps, that makes you all the more valuable. You haven’t forgotten how, surely?’

Gabe sighed. ‘No. I haven’t forgotten.’

‘So you’ll see her?’

He recalled standing opposite Angelina’s last night — it was an omen. He remembered the note crumpled in his left fist, which was now plunged into the pocket of his jacket. He shifted his gaze back to her. In her look was a plea.

‘Yes, I’ll see Angelina.’

‘Excellent. Oh marvellous, thank you, Gabriel … I —’

‘There are conditions —’

‘I understand,’ Reynard said, barely hearing him, Gabe was sure.

‘Don’t be too hasty. Hear me out first. I insist on seeing her alone,’ Gabe said, knowing it would not go down well.

Reynard’s face clouded. ‘Oh, I’m afraid that won’t be possible.’

‘Why?’ he asked reasonably.

‘I am responsible for Angelina … for every moment that she is out of hospital.’

‘Are you suggesting she’s in danger with me?’ Gabe asked, without a hint of indignation.

‘Not at all. She’s unpredictable, Gabriel.’

They both glanced at Angelina, who had in the last minute or so seemed to tune out of their conversation. She was staring through the window but with unseeing eyes. Her coffee was cooling, untouched; crystals of sugar were scattered around from her opening the sachets carelessly.

‘Unpredictable?’ he queried, returning his attention to Reynard.

‘Dangerous,’ Reynard replied.

Gabriel tried to school his features but he wasn’t quite quick enough to shield Reynard from the slight slump of his shoulders that clearly conveyed his mistrust of this diagnosis.

‘I don’t feel threatened by her,’ he said as evenly as he could. ‘And Reynard, this is not a request, it’s a condition of me doing the assessment for you. You’re the one asking the favour.’ How quickly that firm note came back into one’s voice, he thought, privately impressed. So many times in his working life he’d had to adopt that calm but implacable stance with parents, guardians, teachers, even other doctors.

‘Where?’ Reynard asked sounding reluctant.

‘It will have to be my studio, I suppose. It is neutral for Angelina. It is also spacious and quiet. You can wait downstairs in the lobby or you’re welcome to sit on the landing outside. But I want to speak to her without interference of any kind.’

‘I will wait on the landing as you suggest. When?’

Gabe shrugged, surprised by Reynard’s continuing possessiveness. ‘It’s my day off tomorrow. Let’s say eleven, shall we?’

‘That’s fine.’

Gabe stood. ‘Bring a book. The landing offers no diversion,’ he said, his tone neutral. He looked at the girl. ‘Bye, Angelina.’ She ignored him. Reynard began to apologise. ‘Don’t,’ Gabe said, ‘it’s okay. We’ll talk tomorrow.’

‘Thank you,’ Reynard said.

Gabe left without another word, unaware of how Angelina’s gaze followed long after most people’s vision would have lost him to the blur of street life.