Pseudologia Fantastica.

Sitting on the train Belle thumbed the top of the manuscript in her tote bag. She was allowing herself, in brief glimpses, the luxury of imagining that this might be the one. This might be the publisher that sees her novel, that elusive stumbling debut into the world of fiction, as something worth sharing with the world. It wasn’t the thought of the money or being on The Times bestseller list that made her heart flutter and gallop between solid beats, it was the thought of having her words consumed by people just like her who thirsted for fiction, who would beg, borrow and steal for it.

We will shortly be arriving at Euston Station, where this service terminates. Please ensure you have all your personal belongings with you when disembarking from the train.

The pre-recorded voice jerked her out of a reverie in which she was popping open a bottle of champagne in celebration of being published. She ran her finger again over the manuscript, just to check it was still there and when satisfied that nothing had changed since the last time she checked it she gathered up her things and made her way to the doors of the train.

It was 11am and she was exactly four hours early for her appointment at Random House and as she stepped off the train she felt a pang of nervousness at being stuck in the heart of London without ever having visited before outside the confines of a school trip or family excursion. She looked left and right, attempting to discern the direction of the way out and abruptly turned left, straight into the path of someone moving in the opposite direction.

“Oh fuck! Sorry!” It was the voice of a man but Belle was too preoccupied with the fact that her bag had slipped off her shoulder and her manuscript was splayed out on the platform and was being mercilessly trodden on by busy commuters. She hurriedly reached out and seized it, clutching it to her chest and smoothing the ruffled pages down as if she were trying to console a child.

The man, she saw, was in the middle of gathering up the contents of her bag that she’d abandoned in reclaiming her manuscript. Her phone was still splayed out, the back had detached itself and the battery had made a bid for freedom and she scooped it up, tucking the ream of paper under her arm.

“I’m sorry.” She said, the rubble of her phone lying hopelessly in her hand. “I wasn’t looking where I was going. Or knowing, for that matter!”  The man smiled, close mouthed but a smile nonetheless that dominated his whole face. He was wearing a navy blue suit with a white shirt underneath, no tie she noted. He had the long, serious, handsome face of a man who wouldn’t look out of place in a Jane Austen novel, wearing a waistcoat and proclaiming how much he ardently admired and loved his beautiful Elizabeth.

“That’s alright, these things happen.” He dropped her purse into her bag and extended it to her. She looked down at the phone and then to the manuscript and offered him an apologetic smile.

“I have no idea how to fix this.” She tipped the phone into her tote bag and took it from him and then stuffed the manuscript in after it.

“Nothing important, I hope?” His voice was deep and smooth and she instantly warmed to him, smiling and shaking her head.

“No. Well, yes it is actually. It’s a manuscript but it’s only a back up copy. The publishers have one already.” She blushed at giving too much information than was needed.

“I haven’t held you up?” He asked anxiously and it was her turn to smile.

“No, not at all. I’m hours early.” He smiled again and this time it was open mouthed, his lips stretching past his teeth, his tongue pressed against his bottom teeth.

“Then you won’t object to allowing me to buy you a coffee, to say sorry. I’ll even fix your phone. No doubt you’ll need it.”

Belle hesitated. She may be twenty one and fully able to take care of herself but she was painfully aware of being in a strange city. Then again, he could turn out to be completely harmless and spending time in a coffee shop would eat up some of the wait until her appointment. And she did need her phone fixing.

  “Yes, okay.” She said and slung her bag over her shoulder, giving her manuscript a reassuring pat and falling into step behind the tall, dark, handsome fellow who had just offered to buy her a coffee.

***

 As they exited the station the man spoke again,

“I know a good coffee shop just around the corner.”  He pointed in a vague direction and strode onwards. Belle became conscious of the fact that his long strides, due to his impossibly long legs, were difficult to keep up with and she had to keep skipping along beside him in order to keep up. Just before they reached the corner he stopped abruptly and slapped his forehead as if he’d forgotten something.

“Oh! How rude of me!” He exclaimed. “I never introduced myself.” He ran his hand through his curly brown hair and then extended it to Belle in an awkward gesture followed by a phrase that sounded like he hadn’t used it in a while.

“Hello. I’m Edgar Thistle. Nice to meet you.” She couldn’t help but smile at the formality in which he introduced himself and the way his back had straightened. He’d suddenly become more business-like; his left hand was resting on his stomach against the done up buttons of his suit jacket.

“I’m Belle.” She reached out and shook his hand. His grip was firm, echoing the professional manner in which he had introduced himself but he still seemed awkward and out of place even amongst all the commuters of London who mirrored his attire.

“Like the fairytale? Like Beauty and the Beast?” He tilted his head to one side and an amused look crossed his face and Belle found herself smiling at him.

“Yes, like Beauty and the Beast. Now are we getting this coffee or not?” She said playfully and he nodded and turned as if remembering what his purpose was and striding on.

“It’s just around this corner.”

***

 Once they were seated and two black coffees bought Belle fished in her bag for her phone, or the wreckage of it anyway. She located the screen portion of it first, then the back cover and then the battery, and laid them out in front of Edgar.

“I hope it’s not broken beyond repair. I’m not very good with gadgets and suchlike.”  Edgar smiled lopsidedly as if repressing a laugh and picked up the phone and the battery with long, pale piano playing fingers. He slid the battery in and then the back cover with ease and then clicked the ‘On’ button.

“There you go,” he said, handing her the phone, “That should’ve done the trick.” He picked up his coffee and took a sip, glancing at her over the rim of the mug. She took the phone and turned it over in her hands, checking the screen and seeing everything in order she dropped it back into her bag.

“Thanks.”

“No problem. So,” He said, shifting in his chair and leaning forwards, “you’ve come to London with a book?” Belle nodded, surprised at his remembering her mentioning the manuscript. Unconsciously she laid a protective hand over the bulk in her bag,

“Yeah, it’s my first one. I’ve got a meeting with Random House to discuss it. Nervous as hell.”

“It’s a novel? Fiction?” He asked.

“Yes, it’s like a slice of life but poetic literature. Sort of Ray Bradbury-esque. Making the ordinary extraordinary.”

He couldn’t help but smile at the way this girl, this woman, conducted herself. At the mention of her book she had lit up and a passion had flared visibly inside of her. She had tossed her thick, long, brown hair back and leaned forwards, green eyes animated.

“Well you have to let me know when it gets published. I would very much like to read it.” Belle smiled and nodded, flattered by this man’s interest in her book. Had he been less receptive she would have been embarrassed at how eagerly she’d taken up the opportunity to talk about her book.

“Of course. And what do you do?” She measured the reaction at the man in front of her and saw him stiffen and even blush at the question. But he quickly gathered himself and leaned back, crossing his legs and taking another sip of his coffee.

“I’m an actor, for all my sins.”

“Oh? And how is that going?” She asked, rather bluntly.

“Fine, fine. Yes. A couple of jobs on the go.”

Belle smiled and a silence fell upon them in which both of them took a sip of their coffee and absorbed their surroundings. After about five minutes someone tapped Edgar on the shoulder.

“Excuse me? Would you sign this for my daughter?”

Edgar blushed visibly and nodded.

“Of course, of course.” He took the napkin from the woman. “What’s her name?”

“Abigail. So sorry to disturb you, it’s just that she’s a huge fan and she’d never let me live it down if I told her I saw you and didn’t ask.”

“Oh, that’s no problem. There you go.” He directed a smile at the woman and handed her the napkin. “Have a nice day and say hello to Abigail for me.”

Belle was silent for a second and Edgar, sat across from her, busied himself with his phone, obviously embarrassed at the exchange. Belle couldn’t help but ask.

“Are you a big deal?” She whispered, leaning closer and closing the gap between them. “Are you a celebrity?”  He grinned again, his smile becoming bigger than she’d seen it in the short time they’d enjoyed each other’s company.

“I could be a big deal,” He winked at her, “As for celebrity. I don’t know about that. I’ve been in a couple of television shows.” It was Belle’s turn to be embarrassed this time; her face turned a rather violent shade of red.

“How rude of me. I’m so sorry, I didn’t recognise you. I don’t watch a lot of television. Theatre, music and books are my thing.” He waved a hand dismissively,