Helen Fields - Perfect Remains

‘Jayne, don’t,’ he counselled her. ‘Elaine tried, God knows she begged for days, and it won’t work. There’s a plan, you see. Sometimes a human has to aspire to a life greater than the one they’re born to. I am more than the sum of my parts, as are you. The physical being is unimportant. Elaine’s finger will heal, pain is transient. It’s a conduit for progression, enlightenment.’

‘I see,’ Jayne said simply. He waited for more, but that was it. He’d won. For today he should be content with that much.

He was exhausted, drained by disciplining Elaine and all the cleaning. Locking the door on his way out, he heard a whisper, considered going back in, but decided not to. They would need time to get to know one another. It wasn’t until he reached the bottom of the stairs that his tired brain finally unscrambled the words he’d heard.

‘We’re going to die here,’ Jayne had said, in that plain way of hers.

Reginald King thought that smoked salmon and mushroom risotto would make an excellent choice for supper.

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