The Connoisseur

Chapter 31 - The First Steps of the Dance

Ring ring.

Sophia stirred from sleep.  It was half past eleven the next night.  She rolled over with a groan and seized her phone.  The name on the screen blazed out in the dark. 

She sat bolt upright.  She paused for a second before accepting the call.  She didn’t speak.

“Hello?”

She wondered where he was speaking from.  Yesterday, or the birth of the universe, or the end.

“Sophia?”

He sounded nervous.  She had a sudden apprehension that something terrible had happened, and could keep her silence no longer.

“Hey.  I’m here.”

“Good.  Good.”

They paused.  The night outside Sophia’s window was starlit and silent.

“Will you come through?” he asked.  “Please.”

She thought for a moment.  “Okay.  Give me a minute.”

She ended the call, climbed out from beneath the duvet and sat on the edge of her bed.  Her heartbeat had picked up, but it wasn’t that fast.  She wondered if she was dreaming.  Well, it seemed appropriate.

She put on her old, long nightie and a pair of flat shoes, and hovered by her bedroom door.  She found herself thinking about where, precisely, his house was; was it somewhere real, on a map, but hidden, or was it in some nether space? 

It’s on the other side of the door, said a voice in her head.  She opened it and went through.

The great, grand hall did not look the same.  Instead of blazing light and gold, her eyes were met by deep blue twilight.  Long shadows threaded across the floor, interspersed with the moonlight of a painting; purest silver, as if you only had to step in it to be somehow transformed.  She looked for Alexander where he usually sat, by the piano, but he was not there. 

Then she saw him, staring out of the window.  His face was lit by the full flush of the moonlight.  He wore a long jacket and waistcoat, but she couldn’t discern the colour of decoration.  She walked towards him, careful to make sure he heard her footsteps, but he didn’t turn to her. 

She joined him at the window.  A moment later, she felt his hand take hers.

“There’s nothing out there,” he said quietly.  “Have you ever noticed that?”

She looked out, and it was true: a lawn stretched only a little distance, before fading into the dark.

“I’d not thought about it,” she replied.

“Once I had a garden.  I grew tired of it and didn’t venture out there for some years.  When I remembered it, and sought it, it had gone.  This place had wiped it clean.  I tried to recall it, but it wasn’t the same.  And I knew then that this place has its limitations after all.”  He turned to her.  “I’m sorry, you don’t want to listen to my prattle.”

“It’s not prattle.  It’s fine.”

Sophia held his hand more tightly.  She began to laugh.

“What is it?” he said.

“Nothing.  Just, ‘prattle’.  The word.  It’s very you.”  She looked up at him.  “I’ve missed you.”

He smiled, but it didn’t last long.

“I have an apology to make,” he said.  “I’ve kept you waiting far too long.”

“That’s okay.  You had me worried, I admit.  Angry, too.  But we’re here now.”  She sighed.