Crewel

strictly policed. Only the most important businessmen can travel between the four sectors; someone like my dad wouldn’t qualify. I’ve never been out of Romen’s city limits before today. I should be excited, but all I feel is a dull twinge at the thought.
    Cormac is lounging in a turquoise chair outside the powder room.
    ‘Ever been to a rebound station, Adelice?’ Cormac asks conversationally as he stands to greet me when I step back into the station lobby.
    I shake my head. I’m not eager to act like we’re friends.
    ‘Didn’t think so. It’s pretty rare these days for some citizens to get border passes.’ He smiles, and for the first time I notice a crease in his flawless skin. By ‘some citizens’ he means women and service workers.
    Cormac sets the pace, and I stroll with him along the periphery of the station. There’s a small booth offering shoe shines, a coat-check stand, and a little café. He gestures for me to follow him into the restaurant, and we’re led up to the second-floor mezzanine by a waiter. From here we can watch the travellers waiting for their rebound appointments in the great marble hall. Even though it’s busy, the sounds of travel – shoes clicking, complant conversations, rustling Bulletins – fill the space and bounce back across it. The roar of energy is nearly deafening.
    ‘Miss, I’ll need to see your privilege card,’ the waiter says, sneering at me.
    I glance down at my simple dress and realise I don’t even have my citizen ID with me, but Cormac speaks before I can make excuses.
    ‘She’s my guest. Do you need to see my PC?’ It’s more a challenge than a question.
    The waiter glances at him and the haughty smile evaporates. ‘Ambassador Patton, I apologise. I didn’t recognise you. I only saw the girl.’
    Something about the way he says the girl makes me feel dirty.
    ‘No need to apologise. You don’t get many girls in here, I imagine.’ He laughs, and the waiter joins him.
    ‘We weren’t informed there would be a retrieval squad travelling through, or we would have been prepared,’ the young man assures him.
    ‘It was a last-minute retrieval, so the usual call-aheads weren’t possible.’
    ‘So she’s a . . .’ He eyes me admiringly.
    ‘She is an Eligible. Treat her as you would a Spinster.’ There’s an edge of warning to Cormac’s voice, and the young man nods solemnly.
    He waits on me hand and foot, although I’m not allowed to order for myself. And as if a hovering waiter isn’t annoying enough, every man in the place stares at me. It’s the shameless gaze of the patrons that provokes a startling realisation. Glancing back at the bustling travellers, I see the outline of suits and fedoras. The only other woman in the station takes coats at the stand I noticed earlier. Apparently only men are allowed to eat here. I knew rebounding was reserved for important businessmen, but I never realised that even the station was segregated. I rub my hands on the hem of my shift, aware of how warm it is here.
    ‘Lecherous lot,’ Cormac says, and chuckles. ‘Actually, you don’t see many women out from behind the desk these days. Not without their husbands.’
    It takes a minute for me to realise he means me. I’m the woman out and about.
    ‘I’d suggest eating. I know you can’t have much left in you after that stupid medic screwed up. You would think they would know how much juice to give a 52 kg girl, and yet it’s always too much or too little. You’re lucky though – the Nilus Station has a great café.’ He tips his head back toward the kitchen door. ‘It might be a while before you eat again.’
    ‘I’m not very hungry,’ I say. My lamb chop sits untouched on the plate in front of me. Cormac’s meal is similarly neglected, for all his advice to eat, but only because he’s nursing a bourbon.
    Cormac leans against the table and looks at me. ‘I figured as much. Take my advice though, and eat something.’
    I think of the dining-room table and white cake sitting on it, the puddle of black blood under its legs, and shake my head. The only thing I’m hungry for is answers.
    ‘Eat, and I’ll tell you what you want to know.’
    I take a couple of bites, knowing I won’t be able to eat if he answers me first anyway, but as soon as I swallow, I turn my attention back to him. ‘Are they dead?’ The words come out flat, and in that moment I know I’ve lost hope.
    ‘Your father is,’ Cormac admits in a low voice.