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𝑻𝑯𝑬 𝑷𝑹𝑶𝑭𝑬𝑺𝑺𝑶𝑹'𝑺 𝑵𝑶𝑻𝑬𝑩𝑶𝑶𝑲
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𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐘𝐄𝐋𝐋𝐎𝐖 𝐃𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒 𝐃𝐄𝐂𝐎𝐑𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐌𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐎𝐖 waved gently in the warm breeze. Golden rays of sunlight fell in a speckled pattern through the thick foliage of the surrounding trees while the mansion at the other side cast a long shadow over the grassfield.
The peaceful ambiance broke abruptly though, when the laughter of two teenagers ─ a boy and a girl ─ traveled over the landscape as they raced towards the river at the foot of the hill. The small stream of water in the distance sparkled like a silver line with stars while a lone, fluffy cloud floated through the stark blue sky above it.
Both of the siblings ran barefoot and the grass leaves tickled their ankles, but the girl hopped around on one foot for a few steps after her other had landed on a sharp pebble hidden in the grass. The boy laughed victoriously when he shot past her, taking the lead.
Rosaleen flipped her long, blonde hair over her shoulder, striking some strands out of her face as well while she stared at her older brother's back. She broke into another sprint and the fabric of her light blue dress billowed out behind her as it danced with the blowing wind.
Their surroundings shot past while the river grew wider and the sound of rippling water reached their ears as they ran off the hill with long strides, practically falling.
This time it was Rosaleen's turn to chuckle victoriously when Alexander lost his footing and tripped over his own legs. He fell down with a thud but due to his momentum, he rolled farther down the hill as well. Rosaleen ran around his rolling form, leaving him quickly behind, and with loud splatters, she sprinted into the riverbed. The cool water reached till over her ankles and drenched the first few inches of her dress, but Rosaleen didn't mind. She threw her hands in the air and turned around in the water to face her brother.
'I win!' she yelled excitedly. Her chest heaved up and down from the aftermath of the sprint and she quickly lowered her arms again to rest her hands on her knees as she bent a bit forward.
Alexander groaned and pushed himself back on his feet when he had finally rolled to a stop. Several grass leaves stuck out of his wavy, blond hair, making it look even messier than usual. His locks glistened with the same golden glow in the sun as his sister's, but Rosaleen's eyes resembled the rough waves of a storm at sea, whereas Alexander's looked like the sharp rocks on which the ships got smashed against.
'You are heartless,' Alexander started, feigning his pain by laying a hand on his chest, 'running past me like that, I could have broken something.'
Rosaleen giggled between her panting and she walked out of the river again, straightening some wrinkles out of the skirt of her dress. 'Well, broken bones or not, you must help with the dishes tonight.'
She flopped down in the sand and stared at the cloud in the sky, her hair spread elegantly above her head that rested in the palm of her hands.
Alexander laid down next to her as well, one of his legs propped up as the calf of his other one rested on his knee. He had rolled the sleeves of the red plaid shirt till over his elbows and he twirled absentmindedly a dandelion between his thumb and index finger.
The afternoon summer's sun beamed down on the siblings, and with the calming sound of the rushing river and sweet-voiced songs of the birds in the trees, Rosaleen felt her eyes growing heavier. Before she could close them completely, though, her wandering mind imagined the lone cloud as an aeroplane and she was instantly wide awake.
'Do you think dad is all right?' she wondered with a small voice, and out of the corner of her eye, she saw her brother stopping twirling around the dandelion.
Alexander sat up straight, focussing his gaze upon the cloud as well like he knew exactly what had sparked her train of thought.
'Of course,' he said as he tried to sound more confident than the anxiety gnawing in the back of his mind.
Rosaleen relaxed by hearing those words and she moved around a bit to find a more comfortable position to lay in the sand. Still, as she dozed off, she couldn't help but to think of their father; flying around in his aircraft to battle the War that raged on beyond the countryside.
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𝐑𝐎𝐒𝐀𝐋𝐄𝐄𝐍'𝐒 𝐅𝐎𝐎𝐓𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐏𝐒 𝐒𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐃 𝐇𝐎𝐋𝐋𝐎𝐖 as she wandered through her grandfather's mansion. Behind the gigantic windows on her left side, the sun slowly sank below the horizon, and her shadow falling onto the mahogany coloured floor became taller and darker.
She walked across a painting of a beautiful forest and she paused in her steps for a moment, trying to observe it more up close but her own shadow and the surrounding darkness made it rather hard to do so. She thought she could see some animals between the tree trunks, but she couldn't tell for sure.
Rosaleen hummed in herself, walking towards the windowsill that stood opposite of the painting. As she sat down on the cold stones ─ her legs folded underneath her and one of her shoulders facing the glass ─, she took out a piece of parchment and spread it over the sill. With a pencil in her hand, she followed the drawn lines of the self-made map of the mansion until she found the part she and her brother had stopped this morning since Mrs Macready had shooed them outside in her stern, Scottish voice.
The middle aged woman was the head of the housekeepers in professor Kirke's mansion and the siblings had quickly realized when her stark blue eyes spit fire behind the oval-shaped glasses, they better do as she tells.
They had spent all day outside but now with the twilight setting in, Rosaleen couldn't think of a reason why she shouldn't pick up where they had left off. Without her brother though, since Alexander got stuck helping with the dishes.
Rosaleen frowned slightly as she drew the hallways she had taken so far, and she tapped with the other end of the pencil on the parchment while pondering about the question if she should mark the painting on the map as well. A part of her really did want to observe the painting in daylight ─ even in the descending darkness there was something about it that called to her ─ but she still decided against it. She probably wouldn't forget the place anyway now that she had drawn the hallways.
She jumped up from the window sill again and continued her way through the mansion, occasionally stopping to add the hallways, stairs and chambers to the map.
Most of the doors were locked, but to her delight, the most beautiful door she had ever seen, opened without making a sound. The gold coloured hinges moved smoothly and the dark wooden doorpost was carved with roses, irises and daffodils, decorating the ends of the swirling stems.
As Rosaleen walked underneath the doorway, she moved her hand over the carvings but the sight beyond the door caused her jaw to drop completely. She stood in a round music room with several bookcases that reached till the ceiling. The leather bindings of the books looked old and the gold letters on the spines had cracks in them, some even large enough to make the whole letter unreadable. In the middle of the room stood a grand piano and the black varnish shimmered in a faint orange hue as the last rays of the setting sun fell right onto it; precisely through the arched window in the opposite wall.
Rosaleen tried to contain a squeal but the high-pitched sound left her lips nonetheless as she closed the door behind her and caught sight of the life-like lion carved into the wood on this side of the door. Gold paint accentuated the lines and she could almost sense the majesty of the lion radiating off it.
She hadn't seen all of the mansion yet, but she was convinced she had stumbled across her favourite room already. Her heartbeat sped up from excitement and joy rushed through her veins, making her fingers a bit shaky as she lit the oil lamp on the side table next to her. With the lamp in her hand, she walked towards the nearest bookcase to read the book titles in the dancing light. Most of the books contained sheet music, she noticed, but there were some titles she did not recognize. She slowly walked through the round room, her fingers brushing over the book spines and carrying the oil lamp at eye height to make out as much as she could now that the sun had completely disappeared below the horizon. The only light source came from the lamp and the darkness fell over the room like a starless night.
Rosaleen figured she should probably get back to the living room, but as she walked closely past the grand piano, she couldn't help herself and sat down on the leather stool. She clapped open the fall with one hand, revealing the white and black keys and she carefully put the oil lamp in front of her on the closed wing-shaped lid. The light of the flame danced over the keyboard while Rosaleen's hands hovered over the keys. For a moment, she hesitated ─ who knew when the piano had been last tuned? It could be off-key ─ but then, while taking a deep breath, Rosaleen lowered her hands and struck a C-accord.
The warm tone echoed throughout the room, reverberating against the walls, and a pleasant shiver ran down her spine. The acoustics of this room were beautiful, and the piano sounded even better than the one in her family home back in London.
She straightened her back and though it had been a while since she had last played, her fingers remembered every movement as if it had only been a few days. Her fingers moved over the black and white keys in their very own dance, the melody filling the dark room and a smile tugged at the corners of Rosaleen's lips.
If she closed her eyes, she could vividly remember the evenings when her mother used to play this very same song. She could see her sitting behind the piano, her blonde curls dancing around her shoulders as she let the melody fill her whole body. The vision of her mother though, turned into the heartbroken expression of her father when Rosaleen had proudly turned around after playing her mother's favourite song without a fault.
A sob forced its way up through her throat and it left her lips painfully as she quickly opened her eyes again. She tried to drive back the memories, but she lost the melody of the song instead. She struck the wrong key with her left ring finger and she withdrew her hands as if she had been stung by a wasp, pressing them tightly against her chest. A hot tear ran down her cheek and her surroundings blurred together from the other tears she fought to keep in.
'Rose?' The door next to her opened and her brother stepped inside the room.
She quickly wiped away the escaped tear and glanced at Alexander with a faint smile.
'That was beautiful,' he said softly, and even in the darkness, Rosaleen could sense the empathic look he gave her.
'I made a mistake,' she retorted, nodding at the keyboard while she rested her hands in her lap.
'Before that, then,' Alexander said, and he made his way over to the grand piano. He leaned with his under arms on the wing and now in the orange hue of the oil lamp, Rosaleen could really see the concern swimming in his dark eyes. She averted her own eyes from his and stared at her folded hands, the muscles still trembling from the painful memory.
'You know,' Alexander started, 'father never meant for you to stop playing.'
Rosaleen lifted her shoulders in a half-shrug.
He sighed and straightened his back again before walking around the piano and sitting down next to her, at her right side. She scooted a bit over to make more room for him, but still refused to meet his gaze.
'Do you remember that four-hand piece we used to play?' he asked, and she grinned before she could stop herself.
'A better question would be if you still remember it,' she said, giving him a sideways glance only to see him rolling his eyes.
'I may be a little rusty, but I think I can manage.' He cracked his fingers and positioned his hands on the keys. Rosaleen followed his lead, and he counted till four out-loud for them to start at the same time.
After the first few notes though, it became clear Alexander was more than a little rusty. His rhythm was nowhere to be found and Rosaleen chuckled as he struggled to gently press the keys with his stiff fingers. False notes drifted through the air and the wrong kind of goosebumps appeared on their arms.
'Stop, stop it.' She laughed and smacked his hands away from the keyboard as he stubbornly tried it again. 'That was horrible,' she said between fits of laughter.
He shoved her shoulder with a knowing smile. 'It made you feel better, though.'
Rosaleen smiled as well. 'Thank you.'
He nodded and rose up from the stool. 'Come, let's go to the living room. It's warmer there.'
Though it was mid-summer, the old mansion could become quite cold as soon as the sun disappeared; the temperature inside and outside dropping noticeably.
Rosaleen stood up as well and she leaned forward to blow out the oil lamp. However, when she wanted to shut the fall again, her eyes fell upon a small book at the far end of the keyboard. It had a brown leather cover with a silver coloured hing to keep it closed. Curiously, she picked it up and closed the fall with one hand, careful to not get her fingers between it. She turned the book around in her hand while following her brother out of the room. It had no title on its spine and she slightly gasped for air when she opened it and saw a cursive handwriting on the pages.
'What's that?' Alexander asked, looking back over his shoulder as soon as he had heard her surprise, and he immediately noticed the book in her hands.
Rosaleen tried to read some words but the hallway was too dark to make out anything. 'A journal?' she answered in an uncertain manner.
She closed the notebook with a soft thud and sprinted past her brother, excited to get to the living room where there would be more light to read the handwriting.
'Not so fast,' Alexander exclaimed, picking up his speed as well, but by the time he had rounded the corner, Rosaleen had already disappeared. Her speed never ceased to amaze him. He sprinted through the hallways and after a few more turns and some small stairs, he reached the living room where his sister already sat in the armchair in front of the hearth. The notebook lay open on her lap and her eyes flew across some of the handwritten lines as she flipped through the pages.
'Finished reading?' Alexander joked as he sat down on the brown leathered couch, not far away from the armchair.
'It's called The Magician's Nephew,' Rosaleen said, looking up from the book and her green eyes sparkled. 'It is about Diggory Kirke and Polly, finding a magical land called Narnia. I think our grandfather wrote a story with himself as the main character.'
Alexander, however, pondered about the name of the magical land. 'Narnia,' he muttered, a frown appearing between his eyebrows. 'It sounds strangely familiar.'
'It does?'
'Yes.' He rubbed the back of his neck, staring in the dancing flames of the fire at his side and like a flash of lightning, it suddenly came back to him. 'Mother once told me about it, as a bedtime story.'
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