Lights; music; dancing and dancing and dancing. The several hours became one night, one single, sprawling memory that Sophia sealed away in the centre of her mind, like a diamond ring in a jewellery box. The shrinking candles; the quietening music; the goodbyes of her new friends in Bohemia; and Alexander’s goodbye in his impossible home, the house between history.
As she fell to sleep in her own bed, in her own time, she saw the streets of Prague, heard the music of Mozart, and felt Alexander’s kiss on her cheek.
*
We’re up all night to the sun
We’re up all night to get some
We’re up all night for good fun
We’re up all night...
Lunge – miss.
...to get lucky
We’re up all night to get lucky
We’re up all night to get lucky
Lunge – miss.
We’re up all night...
Lunge lunge lunge. Hit. Sophia’s phone alarm finally shut up.
She slipped out from beneath the duvet and sat on top of it, leaning against the wall. She rubbed at her eyes and looked around her bedroom. Thin, December light shone on the bare white walls and the wobbling wooden bookshelves. Pencils, textbooks and wires were scattered across the small desk, and clothes spilled from drawers and cupboards. The room smelled faintly of damp. It was all so plain.
Her senses caught up: sudden cold seized her bare legs, quickly spreading. She hugged herself tightly and lunged for a jumper and some warm leggings. She still had goose pimples long after she had put them on. She huddled up close to the wall, her knees against her chin, and spread the duvet over them.
She remembered everything. It was a few minutes before she realised she was breathless. Whenever she took a deep breath, the memories of Prague flared in her head like a flame suddenly gorged on oxygen. She could hear the orchestra, the cheering, the...
A car honked outside her window. She closed her eyes, laughed, and climbed out of bed.
Julie was sat on the sofa in their living room drinking coffee. She glanced at Sophia, her lips curling upward. “Morning.”
“Morning Jules.”
“There’s enough for another mug in the cafetiere if you want it.”
Sophia liked coffee, but not at the weapons-grade strength that Julie made it. “No thanks, I’m okay.”
“Alka-seltzer?”
“No.”
“Bloody Mary?”
Sophia laughed and walked into the kitchen. “No. Just normal breakfast, thanks.” She poured herself a bowl of cereal.
“He at least bought you a drink?” said Julie, now lurking by the kitchen door. “Tell me he bought you one teensy-weensy drink.”
“Nope. Not one.” Honey nut cornflakes – they didn’t make food like this in the eighteenth century, thought Sophia. “There was a free bar.”
Julie’s smile dropped. “Seriously? Where was that? Tell me immediately, I need to know these things.”
“All in good time,” mumbled Sophia with her mouth half-full of cereal. She escaped back upstairs to plot her cover story.
YOU ARE READING
The Connoisseur
RomanceSome lovers take you to the most romantic places in the world. Very few take you to the most romantic times in history. Sophia is living a normal student life - studying, drinking, acting in her spare time - when Alexander appears in her path. At...
