Tapestry

by Fiona McIntosh

  ‘Expecting an old crone?’ he wondered with a wry glance, his tone playful.

  In the heartbeat of her hesitation he smiled, transforming as amusement sparkled in his eyes and fizzed in his voice. Attractive creases appeared in his face and a warmth seemed to radiate from him. She presumed he was gay from his slightly effeminate way of speaking and, while she inwardly fought the stereotyped assumption, his narrow, small stature and precise, well-fitting clothing reinforced her presumption.

  ‘I was expecting a woman,’ she admitted, finally finding a voice.

  ‘Sorry to disappoint. I do it deliberately, though — I mean not telling people my name is Robin on the flyer. Would it have put you off coming?’

  She nodded.

  He grinned, and the effect was bright and disarming. ‘You see? I was right to leave it off!’ he teased. ‘Why don’t you come in?’

  ‘Um …’

  ‘What’s to lose?’ Robin challenged gently. ‘You wouldn’t have trekked up those stairs if you didn’t have questions. Let’s see if I can guide you to some answers.’ He beamed at her. ‘It’s free, remember? You’re the first of the five. What’s more, I’m very, very good at what I do.’

  She smiled at his persuasive manner. ‘Why free?’ she asked, stepping in and allowing him to close the door behind her and take the coat she shrugged off. ‘Wow, it’s lovely and warm in here,’ she remarked before he could answer. She was delighted by the light and airy studio office. ‘I love your windows,’ she said, pointing toward the tall arches with coloured squares of pale glass at the top.

  ‘They’re mesmerising, I agree,’ he said.

  As she went on admiring them, she pulled off her scarf and he took that from her too.

  He seemed able to read her thoughts. ‘I know you were probably expecting a gypsy tent with lots of drapes and crystals … perhaps even some incense.’ She hoped she wasn’t blushing as she registered the truth of his words. ‘But I like a clean space to think in,’ he said gently, placing her coat on a wooden hanger and draping her scarf around it with care before putting it on the wall hook. ‘Coffee? It’s real and exceptionally tasty. Here, have a seat and get comfy.’ As he spoke, he moved quietly around a small kitchenette. ‘How do you like it?’

  ‘Small, strong, but with milk and sugar, please.’

  ‘Italians would call that “caffè macchiato”.’

  Jane blinked. ‘Never heard of that.’

  ‘It will definitely be your new vice.’

  She found Robin warm and charming — a balm for her state of mind. Since she’d set eyes on him, her misery hadn’t once encroached on her ability to talk.

  ‘My name’s Jane.’ He threw her a smile of welcome. ‘Do you live here?’

  ‘No. But I don’t live far from here. I like to keep home and work separate.’

  Jane couldn’t fathom how a clairvoyant made the kind of money needed to work out of a chic office such as this and live not far from Covent Garden. Perhaps he was extremely wealthy and happened to have a psychic talent. Or maybe he was a trickster who gave the perfect illusions to troubled people searching for answers. ‘How on earth do you make a living?’

  ‘I have regular clients who pay an awful lot of money for me to tell them exactly what they want to hear. I also have regular clients who pay an equal amount of money to learn the truth.’

  Neither of them spoke while she watched him grind the coffee beans before heaping a few spoonfuls of the grounds into his percolator. Within a minute or two, the giveaway sound of bubbling coffee and the seductive fragrance of the brew had him reaching for a tea towel to lift the jug off his small stove.

  ‘I bought this in Italy,’ he explained. ‘I prefer it to filtered coffee, which tastes flat to me. You’ll love this,’ he said, placing on the side table a saucer bearing a napkin, a shiny teaspoon and a small, fluted glass. He has style, that’s for sure, she thought. She’d only ever drunk coffee out of a glass in Turkey.

  ‘I’ve warmed the milk too.’

  ‘Thank you — that looks good,’ she admitted.

  ‘It is. Better in Italy, of course. Enjoy.’

  Jane quietly stirred in her half-teaspoon of sugar from the sachet he’d supplied, and as the rich, liquoricey flavour hit her taste buds, she felt her shoulders relaxing from what had begun to feel like a permanently tensed state.

  Robin joined her, sipping and smiling. ‘Tell me that’s not delicious.’

  She couldn’t help herself. Her first real smile in days broke out. ‘It’s yummy, thank you.’

  ‘So if nothing else, I’ve made you smile and given you a coffee you’d gladly pay for,’ he said, once again mysteriously echoing her thoughts.

  ‘So why, if you have these rich, happy-to-pay clients, do you need to take wanderers like me off the street who give you nothing, but cost you in time and coffee?’

  He cocked his head to one side and shrugged. ‘Well, it’s a bit like being a lawyer. I have skills that everyone needs from time to time, but not everyone can afford them. I’ve led a blessed life, but when I walk the streets I see so many unhappy people. At each season’s change I give away five sessions, and if any of those people want to return, I will see them at a fraction of my normal rate for as long as they wish. I think of this consulting in the same way as a lawyer might consider his pro bono work. Important, and one must make time for it.’

  ‘That’s very … um … community-minded.’

  ‘It means I have no trouble sleeping,’ he said in answer, reaching for his coffee and swallowing almost a third of the glass neatly in one gulp. He used the small paper napkin to dab his beard free of any milk froth. ‘How are you feeling?’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Since arriving here.’

  Jane was instantly on guard again. ‘Er … fine, thank you.’

  He smiled softly and she watched again, marvelling at the infectiousness of his amusement and how it lit up his face.

  She looked down. ‘Does it show?’

  ‘That you’re looking for answers? Or that you are in deep shock?’

  Her gaze snapped upward. ‘Both.’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Yes? Yes … what?’

  ‘I’m answering your question. Both of these elements have formed a dark companion — a shadow that follows your every move. There’s a third element too.’

  ‘What’s that?’

  ‘Guilt.’

  The word hung between them as she searched Robin’s face, unconcerned by the lengthening silence, whereas normally she would have rushed to fill it.

  ‘So you don’t need to look at tea leaves, or study my hands —’

  ‘Or hold your stunning new engagement ring,’ he interjected wryly. ‘No.’

  She flinched at the mention. ‘I suppose everyone can see it’s new,’ she said in a sceptical tone.

  ‘Yes, of course. But would everyone know that the person who gave it to you is gravely injured?’

  Jane gasped. She clapped her hands across her mouth to prevent the shriek that sprang to her throat. The treacherous tears that leaked down her cheeks told him he was correct. But then he sat there in his neat, self-contained manner, with a slightly amused and not fully readable countenance, and it seemed to Jane he believed he already knew everything he needed to know about her.

  ‘Forgive me. That was my ego getting in the way. I am no charlatan, but many would view me that way. I would very much like to help. How can I help you, Jane? What is it you need to know?’

  She didn’t care how or why he knew about Will; that he undeniably did was shocking, but at the same time strangely comforting.

  Cooing pigeons suddenly lifted off somewhere above the coloured panes of glass and the battering of wings felt symbolic. Jane allowed her most important question to take flight. ‘Why am I feeling guilty?’

  ‘Well, only you know the complete truth of that, but I sense your guilt is not cynical. I believe you are questioning the meaning of love.’ Jane swallowed, bu
t hoped she’d disguised it. ‘I sense that you have never been in love before, although you have been associated with enough men not to be called a prude.’ He eyed her and she took a visible breath but said nothing. ‘Now you find yourself at a crossroads in life. This is a man that any single girl of the right persuasion would fall easily in love with.’ She blinked. ‘And you do love to be with him. You love being loved by him. Physically, financially and sexually you’re both highly compatible. Mentally you are curiously well matched too. Although he is something of an academic, he is also a dreamer, while you, Jane, are more realistic, certainly practical, probably the stronger-willed. You balance each other. So, with this compatibility swirling about you and his clearly stated and demonstrated love for you, you are a little scared by the nagging question of whether you’re ready for the commitment he wants … and you certainly don’t trust the compatibility. Your subconscious, I suspect, is telling you it’s too neat, too perfect, too … easy. Maybe you believe that the love you dream of should be harder to attain, that you need to work for it, earn it, risk something for it.’ He stared so intently at her during those final few words that she caught her breath. And then he smiled, again instantly shifting the mood. ‘Crystallising it down,’ he continued in a more light-hearted way, ‘he wants you and no other. Meanwhile, you would prefer to be together for a while without the ring, the marriage, the fuss, the declarations of undying love.’

  She nodded, feeling horribly transparent. ‘Is that wrong?’

  ‘Why don’t you tell me?’ he offered. ‘Just speak whatever’s on your mind.’

  ‘Well, you said it all. Will has so much going for him, so much to offer. We fit together so well. What’s more, he loves me and shows it constantly. I just can’t imagine a woman alive who would turn Will down if she were me.’

  ‘You haven’t turned him down.’

  ‘But I don’t love him the way he loves me, Robin.’ There, she’d said it aloud. ‘I want to. I just hesitate to say it, to show it, to allow myself to feel it.’

  ‘Why do you think that is?’

  She shrugged.

  ‘That’s not good enough, Jane. You have to sort this out.’

  She drank her coffee, not enjoying being cornered in this way. ‘He orders for me.’

  Robin lifted an eyebrow but waited.

  ‘We might be in a café and he’ll just order what we’re having.’

  ‘And you don’t say anything?’

  ‘It feels petty. Besides, he usually gets it right.’

  ‘But you don’t like that power being exerted.’

  ‘No. I’m used to being in charge of my own life. By wearing Will’s ring, it’s as though I’ve suddenly yielded my freedom.’

  ‘Dramatic,’ he said with a smile. ‘But then, you have in a way, haven’t you?’

  She pulled a face. ‘I’m not going to become a doormat like his mother!’ And there was another truth spoken. It felt like a heavy load being lifted.

  Robin watched her, waited. ‘Your natural need to manage situations is one of your strengths, I suspect.’ She flinched as he pressed the emotional bruise. ‘If you bend your mind to something or someone, you usually get it.’

  She shrugged. ‘I’ve not thought of it that way.’

  ‘Did you bend your mind to getting Will?’

  Jane lifted a shoulder. ‘I wasn’t aware of it.’

  ‘Do you believe in love at first sight?’

  ‘I want to.’

  ‘It didn’t happen between the two of you?’

  ‘I think it might have for Will,’ she answered, looking away, embarrassed.

  ‘Tell me what you think love is, Jane … at its core.’

  ‘Chemistry,’ she replied. ‘My personal take is that there’s no accounting for it. It just happens. Invisible, powerful, irresistible. No rhyme or reason. You look at someone, talk to them and you find yourself helpless in their presence, but you can’t explain why.’

  He smiled. ‘Go on.’

  ‘Will’s brilliant at everything,’ she continued. ‘It’s hard to live beneath that dazzling glow.’

  ‘You feel overshadowed?’

  ‘No … I wonder if I can live up to his ideal of me. I’m wilful, but he reads that as strong. I’m independent, but he reads that as my being someone with fathomless courage. I’m not like any other woman he’s been with, I think — plus I helpfully tick a lot of other boxes he and his family desire.’ She shook her head. ‘I’m making this sound clinical. It’s not like that. But …’

  ‘It’s how you feel?’

  She nodded. ‘I’m not impressed by his wealth, family name, connections.’ She slapped the chair arm lightly. ‘We were having fun. Why did he have to make it serious?’ Robin said nothing, watched her carefully. ‘I feel like I’m in therapy,’ she added, cutting him a rueful glance.

  He lifted a shoulder. ‘It could be viewed that way, but it’s doing neither of us any harm. Keep talking.’

  ‘Will is everything I should leap at: intelligent, academic, kind, owns an amazing loft apartment in New York’s most wanted street and a holiday cottage upstate.’ She gave a moue of regret. ‘He’s keen to start a family, but only when I’m ready. He’s talking about buying us a big place at somewhere called East Aurora.’ She eyed Robin. ‘He adores my body, worships at its altar most nights, laughs at my prickliness, understands my mood shifts and he loves the spontaneity that my parents have always considered a sign of my reckless spirit. Nothing made them happier than to hear about a ring on my finger.’

  ‘Are you worried he’ll become too much like his father?’

  ‘I didn’t know his father until a few days ago, but yes, now I’m nervous that he’ll become overbearing. Will calls me “she”. I hate that, but I think it’s an American thing.’ Robin nodded. ‘But now Will’s dead … technically. It’s as if I wished it, brought it upon us. Is that possible?’

  He didn’t answer her question, only sighed. ‘And you want to wind back the clock.’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘Could you rid yourself of your reservations if you could go back in time?’

  Their gazes met and locked. Jane couldn’t answer that. ‘You’re the stargazer. Tell me, why can’t I commit?’

  ‘You’re holding back, Jane. That’s all.’ He sipped his coffee silently, watching her over the rim of his cup.

  ‘Yes, but I feel like an impostor. Tell me why I’m holding back.’

  ‘Pure caution. Some, like me, might admire you for questioning the relationship. Marriage is not easy. I’m sure anyone who’s been married or is still married would admit as much. The early flush and excitement of love are not enough to sustain a marriage.’

  ‘So I’m being cautious?’

  ‘Maybe you’re making sure that he is definitely the one.’

  ‘I’ve accepted his ring. We’re planning the marriage. How am I making sure? It’s not as though I’m planning to trawl bars and nightclubs to find other options.’

  Jane could hear the traffic building as more horns klaxoned the news that rush hour approached. She knew she should go. Robin was talking again.

  ‘I agree that true love is mysterious. There’s no telling why, or with whom it will happen. I personally believe it’s out of anyone’s control — including yours. Two people who appear compatible and perfect for each other in every way might meet and simply not connect. Others, who seem laughably disconnected on many levels, find each other irresistible.’

  She nodded. ‘Okay, I get that. I know people you’d never put together for various reasons and yet they have fantastic relationships.’

  ‘Exactly.’

  Jane sensed he was waiting on her, that she must drive their conversation forward. She took a nervous gulp of her coffee, while her most vital query felt as though it were choking her.

  She cleared her throat. ‘Will he live?’

  ‘That is up to you,’ he replied calmly, ready with a smooth answer as though he’d been waiting for the inevit
able question.

  She sucked in a breath, took the paper napkin he’d placed under her coffee and dried her eyes. She blew into it, suddenly untroubled by the impolite sound in front of a stranger.

  ‘Up to me? You mean, whatever decision I reach.’

  ‘Life is all about decisions. Every minute of the day we make decisions, some of them minute, others more daunting, but each leads us to where we find ourselves from that moment on. You are here today because of a series of decisions that probably began days previously.’

  She swallowed, remembering Will’s deep kiss in the street, the woman pushing past and snarling at them, breakfast … her sense of indecision. Jane returned her gaze to Robin to break the string of memories. She’d relived them too many times already.

  ‘Ah, there’s the guilt in your eyes again. Now you feel his terrible accident has changed everything. You feel you must commit. You believe you do — or should I say could? — love him as he loves you.’

  ‘I’m certain I want Will back as he was and us back as we were,’ she bleated.

  He regarded her with his head inclined slightly to one side. ‘Mm, interesting that you neatly evaded the statement I posed, qualifying it in your own way.’

  ‘What does that mean?’ Jane knew she sounded offended.

  ‘That it is revealing.’

  ‘Robin, I don’t know what to think any more. I’m confused, I’m rudderless … isn’t that why your leaflet urged me to come here?’

  ‘You’re right,’ he said.

  Jane felt herself easing off the hook he’d just caught her on. ‘So here I am. Tell me what to do. Help me!’

  ‘I’m a clairvoyant, Jane. Do you know what that means?’

  She shrugged. ‘You look into my future?’

  He laughed, but there was nothing mocking in it. If anything, she heard only affection. ‘A French word,’ he said. ‘“Voyance” is about vision. And “clair” means clear. All I do is help you to see your options more clearly. I cannot make decisions for you.’