Page 17 of Fated

Some people might think it’s terrible that after I was shot my mum could only think about visiting a goat herder and an elderly relative she hadn’t seen in years, but I’m inured to this sort of thing.

“You wouldn’t,” she says, “He must be ninety-eight years old—no, ninety-nine. He fell out with the Abrys on account that he despised time.”

“And he gave you the watch?”

“Oh no.” My mum beams at me. “I stole it from him.”

I blink. “You stole Adolphus Abry’s watch from a centenarian?”

My mum laughs. “It was easy. He served me weak tea in his library and told me a story about how this watch can make your dreams come true. He said if you wind it then fall asleep with it in your hand, it will show you your heart’s desire. And then once you’ve dreamed it, you can grasp it. I took it for you so that you can dream again. This watch will make it happen.”

I shake my head. “That’s just a story.”

She tsks at my denial. “He claimed it’s what made him leave Switzerland. He said in the summer of 1940 he left Abry and went to Poland to find his lady love. All because of this watch.”

I pause. “Did he find her?”

“No. She died during the invasion. It’s why he hates time. He was too late.” My mum waves this away.

“Then I think maybe this watch doesn’t work like he said.”

“No. It does. He was very clear that it lets you live your dreams.”

I study the face of the pocket watch, catching sight of myself in the dark, glistening surface.

“It’s why I stole it. The watch was practically begging me to bring it back to you. I could feel it asking me to take it. That was, hmmm, right after last Christmas. I remember he served plum pudding from a tin.”

I glance quickly at my mum and she shrugs.

“You shouldn’t have stolen it?—”

“He stole it first. I’m merely returning it to the Abry Watch Company.”

“Hmm.”

She reaches over and clutches my hand. Her fingers are cold on mine.

“Fiona. Tell me. Tell me you’re living the life you’ve always dreamed of. Tell me you’re happy, and I’ll admit I was wrong and throw this watch in the lake?—”

“Don’t do that. This is a historic piece of horology and my family history?—”

“See. I knew you’d like it.”

I pause. My eyes are drawn again to the gleaming gold and the smooth lapis face.

Lately I’ve been run-down. Tired. The nightmares keep me awake.

I might not want my dreams to come true, but I’d like the nightmares to stop.

“It could show you your heart’s desire.”

“I have Mila. I have Daniel. I have Abry. I already have my heart’s desire.”

My mum gives me a flat stare. For a woman who only raised me until age six, she knows me quite well.

“But if you could ask for one more thing? Just one dream that you never let your waking mind linger on. What would it be? Wouldn’t you want it?”

I don’t answer.

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