The Connoisseur

Chapter 4 - The Doorway

The house opened onto a little stepped garden.  It was a cold, still December night, raked by orange streetlights.  Alexander stood at the bottom by the gate.  He wore a slim suit with no tie beneath his greatcoat, but he looked quite different.

“Oh.  You’ve...” Sophia wiggled a finger at her chin.

“Shaved?  Yes.  What do think?”

His groomed beard was gone, replaced by a strong jawline and cheekbones that could saw through wood.

“I like it,” said Sophia.  “Yeah, I like it.  Looks good on you.  I hope you didn’t change it for me.”

“I didn’t, no.  We’re going to a place where a beard would be distinctly out of fashion.”

Sophia brushed her hair away, a little embarrassed.  “And this?” she said, opening up her coat to show off her outfit.

Alexander smiled.  “Perfect.  You look lovely.”

He stood with his hands held behind his back.  Sophia wasn’t sure whether to advance down the stairs to him.  He made no attempt to come towards her.  She noticed that his feet were bouncing a little on the spot, and his lips kept shifting.

“So where are you taking me?” she asked, swinging her handbag a little.

“There’s something I need to tell you,” said Alexander.

Sophia noticed that her feet were bouncing too.  She brushed her hair away again.  “What’s that?”

“Something very important.  It may be – it will very likely be – quite a shock.  Not an unpleasant one, I assure you, but a shock.  It’s nothing to be afraid of.  In fact, it’s really quite wonderful.”

A smile rushed across his face, wide and irrepressible.  It was childlike.  Sophia couldn’t help but smile back. “What is it?  Tell me.”

“We’re going to start tonight’s events here.  Back inside your house.”

“Oh.”

“That’s not the surprise.  The surprise, Sophia Deveaux, is through your front door.”

Sophia glanced back towards the door.  “Why, is Julie in on this?  What’s going on?”

“Trust me.  Go back through.  I swear to you that you’ll have never seen anything like it.”

They stared at one another for an age.  His face looked different, but not his eyes.  They were compelling.

“Really?”

“Really.”

Slowly, she turned on the spot.  Her cheeks were flushed.  He hadn’t had time to do anything inside.  It was just her boring house.  It was just her boring door – plastic, white, little tacky ‘1’ and ’4’ numerals in dull metal.

She took the handle, thought about Julie’s inevitable mockery – ‘I said back before ten, Sophe, not ten past eight’. 

She glanced back at Alexander.  He nodded.  She pushed down, opened the door.

Within was the Palace of Versailles.

She slammed the door shut.  The world stood still.

“What do you think?” said Alexander.

Sophia clamped a hand over her hammering heart.  “Okay, okay, okay.  What the hell was that?”

A million thoughts blasted through her head, a million glimpses of that space on the other side of the door: immense, light, gold, glass, colour, flashing through her head like a film reel with one torn still on a stuttering repeat.  Her heart hammered against her ribs.