““I’ve never forgotten that look, though it lasted only a few seconds. She seemed drawn to something in me, or in the scene I had unwittingly presented. Whatever I had been or done in the past was of no consequence to her, I sensed; what intrigued her lay in the present moment. And I now suspect she was doing what all novelists do when they stop to look at something. She was sizing me up to see if I could fit into her fictional world. Did I belong in her web of characters and plot? With a bit of touching up, could I be incorporated into some tale one day? Would I be of use? Lionel Wolfe-Valentine saw the potential for story in me, and I love her for that. ‘I’m Sabrina Bell,’ I said. ‘My mother lives across the valley.””