The Connoisseur

Chapter 23 - Stripped of Masks

During the next morning, Sophia didn’t think much about her meeting with Alexander.  She spent the day in the lab preparing samples for upcoming experiments.  When she was working, transferring cells between tiny glass plates using syringes, she thought only of getting the procedure correct.  Alexander popped into her head when she was waiting for the apparatus to analyse the samples, but the moment it finished, he was gone again. 

Only after lunch, and increasingly so as the day drew to a close, did he really intrude on her conscience.  Images of Persia and Prague, sunkissed and moonlit all at once, distracted her from the samples, followed swiftly by ideas of new places to go with him: to the Parthenon in ancient Athens; to cherry blossom orchards in some mythical Japan; to medieval Iceland, to hear the sagas from the mouth of the skalds themselves.  As the photometer measured the luminescence of her test substances, she imagined meeting Audrey Hepburn on the set of Breakfast at Tiffany’s and Shakespeare behind the scenes at the Globe.

It was all so tempting.  She could make it so easy for Alexander, if she wanted.  I forgive you, now let’s kiss, and vanish forever into a starlit dream.

Don’t make it easy for him, Sophia.  Don’t do that to yourself.

*

He was waiting for her outside the cafe, illuminated by a streetlight.  At first she hardly thought it was him: he wore jeans and a t-shirt beneath a casual jacket, with a blue scarf.  He could have been anyone.  As she approached, she thought of all the people around her, oblivious to the meeting of two time travellers in their midst.  It made her feel strangely distant from them.

He didn’t see her coming.  She stood a few feet behind him and cleared her throat.

Alexander span around.  “Oh.  Hello.”

“Hi.”

They hovered on the doorstep.

“Come on then,” said Sophia, leading the way. 

The cafe was small, quaint, and quiet.  There were lots of secluded seats in little nooks, and the smell of roasting coffee beans and end-of-day pastries found its way to each of them.  Sophia and Alexander stood in the queue, staring at the list of drinks.

“Um,” said Alexander, as they approached the front, “Which one is normal coffee?”

“God, you sound like my Dad.  Americano.”

“Thank you.”

They didn’t speak as they waited for their drinks.  When they were served, they found a quiet corner.  Sophia stirred her cappuccino, and waited.  Alexander seemed to be doing the same.

“So you don’t know much about coffee shops, then,” she said at last.

“No.  Not modern ones.  All these syrups and something-ccinos.  I’m more au fait with the Viennese ones in the 19th century.  They do the most wonderful...” 

He tailed off.  Sophia was content to wait this time.

“You’d think I could stop myself showing off, wouldn’t you,” said Alexander.

“I don’t know.  You’ve got a lot to show off about.”

Alexander looked up sharply.  When Sophia didn’t continue, he sipped from his coffee.

“This is going to be somewhat awkward, isn’t it?” he said.

“Yep.”

“Is there anything you want to ask me, or shall I try and explain myself?”