The Connoisseur

Chapter 16 - Lamplight and Snow

Five minutes to traverse fifteen centuries.  It could have been five seconds, had she not needed to change her Byzantine gown for a high street dress. When Sophia closed her bedroom door on the smiling Alexander, she put her ear to the wood.  She was sure she could hear him there, walking away towards his piano, or his library, or to another world – but when she opened the door again, she saw the landing, her brother’s bedroom door, and the twinkling of the fairy lights wrapped around the banister.

She closed it again and fell back on her bed, laughing for joy, gasping for air.  You are twenty-two, she told herself.  You are not meant to be dreaming of faraway lands, mythical princesses and love under a star-strewn sky.  For a moment, her happiness subsided – but then she noticed the soft-toy Ariel piled up with all her other childhood relics, and laughed again.

“Got one over on you, I think,” she whispered to the little mermaid.

*

When she opened her curtains the next morning, the scene dazzled Sophia – white snow struck by low sunlight blazing through an arctic-blue sky.  England in 2013, she decided, felt itself in competition with ancient Persia, and wanted her affections back.  The instant she stepped outside, wrapped in a thick scarf, gloves and bobble hat, her breath rising in clouds of vapour, England won.  The holly trees were red with berries, every front door had beautiful wreath and little white trails rose up from the chimneys.

She walked down the country lanes, covered by a canopy of bare alder branches.  When she was away from any houses, she began skipping down the road, giggling.  She stopped the instant a car came around the bend ahead.  When it had gone, she skipped again.

She soon came to the place she was looking for: a lonely fork in the road.  On one side was a large wood of coniferous trees, densely packed together, and on the other a long, bare field wreathed in white.  In the centre, between the two roads, was a beautiful wrought-iron lamppost.  Why it was there, she had never known: there were no houses nearby.  To her five-year-old self, there could only be one possible answer: it was the lamppost from Narnia, and the woods were filled with fauns, talking beavers, and White Witches seeking to banish Christmas.

Sophia sat on the stone wall at the edge of the field, and basked in her childhood memories.  They were glorious.

An idea came to her.  She reached for her phone and was surprised to find she had signal.  After fumbling with the keys through her thick gloves, she put it to her ear.

Ring, ring.

“Miss Deveaux.  A pleasure to hear from you.”

“Morning, Alex.  How’s things?”

“Wonderful, thank you.  I’m stood by the...”

“Sorry,” said Sophia, smiling as she stared out into the countryside.  “But this time I’m going first.”

“Really?  By all means.”

She told him how she could see individual snowflakes glittering in the fields; about the crack made by the little pools of ice when she pressed a boot into them; of the frozen spider webs, so beautiful she wished she could pick them up, carry them home and drape the house with them.  She told him about the lamppost.

“I’m afraid I’ve never been to Narnia,” said Alexander.

“That’s a shame.”

“I’ve been to Middle-Earth.”

“No you haven’t.”

“Well, New Zealand.  It was even more beautiful before the colonists came.”

“I can imagine.”  Sophia sucked in her lips, wondering what to say.  “Do you want to come to Narnia?”

“How so?”

“Come here.”  She stopped smiling.  “Pay me a visit.  I want to walk up a country lane with you.  Jump in the snow, step on the ice.”

There was a pause.

“Alex?”

“I’m sorry, Sophia.  I’m somewhat busy.”

Her heart sank.  “Oh.  Ok.”

“I’m sorry.”

“No, that’s fine.  Sure.”  She thought for a moment.  “Hang on.  Can’t you just finish what you’re doing, even if it takes you ages, and then pop up next to me in ten seconds?  You are a time traveller, after all.”

“Well, there is that,” said Alexander.  “But I’m trying to...goodness, I don’t want to congratulate myself too much.”

“Go ahead.  You can take it.”

Alexander cleared his throat.  “I’m trying to ensure my time matches up to yours.  How to explain it?  Ah – had you considered that between Mozart and Persia, I could have spent a whole year travelling, whilst you only had, what, five or six days in between?”

Sophia suddenly felt uncomfortable.  “No, I hadn’t.”

“That’s not what I did, I assure you.  I had five or six days also.  As I said, I’m matching my time to yours.  I’m not entirely sure why.  I suppose I don’t want to lose hold of you.”

Her heart swelled.  “Thanks.  I get it.”

“So I can’t come dashing through this moment, unfortunately.  But we can meet again soon.”

“I’d love that.  Sometime after Christmas?”

“Hm.  Is New Year too long to wait?”

“Ten minutes is too long to wait!”  Sophia laughed, then checked herself, coughing awkwardly.  “But New Year’s fine.  New Year’s great.”

“Good, because 1895’s a cracker.”

“See you then.”

It was only when Sophia was walking home ten minutes later that she realised how incredible the situation was.  She imagined what the conversation would have sounded like to a stranger, and laughed all the way home.

*

Frozen English countryside or a late summer night in Persia?  I'm not sure if many people would agree with Sophia that England wins, but I'm one of them :)  I think she's finding everything wonderful at the moment, though.  Can that last? You'll find out...

The music is Britten's Ceremony of Carols, which I listened to whilst writing the chapter.  It's completely gorgeous but so Christmassy at the same time, and the performance in the vid is amazing.  Listen to 'This Little Babe' from around the 7:30 mark - the skill on show is crazy.