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.
It didn’t come easily. After showering and dressing she didn’t have the answers. The heating in her small room was too much, and it was a beautiful winter’s day outside, bright and bleak all at once. The cold air would clear her head.
After dodging Julie and escaping the house, she walked to the nearby park and found herself a bench. Sometimes, when she needed to retreat, she would go to the botanical gardens, full of secret paths and exotic trees. This park was very different: flat, muddy, and close to the noisy road. Children cheered and whooped as they played on the rusting swings close to her, and a football match was taking place on the other side of the field. Most of the men were a little worse for wear around the waist. Good for them, thought Sophia, reminding herself to go for a run soon.
She let the chill creep into her coat sleeves and collar, and she thought. Where could Alexander have taken her? It had to be somewhere classy, somewhere with a free bar. Perhaps a fancy opening or a private event. But it couldn’t be here in Crossham; the town was too small to hide an event like that, and Julie would go sniffing for details.
The story formed in Sophia’s head: Alexander had taken her to a private opening at a gallery in the city. It was very him. Of course, it wasn’t the sort of event to be advertised openly on the web; that would nip Julie’s investigations in the bud. The rest she would bluff. Easy.
As she left her bench and walked from the park, a quiet voice in her head wondered how easy it would be for the next date, and any more after that – but then her head filled with images from the past, places they might go, wonders they might see, and she laughed aloud, spinning on the spot when no one was looking.
*
“Kim was so right,” said Julie, filling her flatbread with more shawarma and piling on the hummus. “It’s like a kebab, but respectable.”
“And you can drink wine with it,” said Roz.
“Jules drinks wine with all her kebabs,” said Adam. “I’ve seen you, coming out of Abrakebaber at three in the morning with a doner in one hand and a fresh bottle in the other. I think they have a supply of pinot grigio for her behind the counter.”
“One cache at every takeaway,” said Julie. “You’ve rumbled me.”
Sophia smiled. She and her friends were eating together at San Polo’s, the town’s new Lebanese restaurant, to celebrate their run at the theatre and the end of the autumn term. The food was wonderful, the light spices sizzling in the smell of the restaurant and just tickling the tongue when she ate, but she couldn’t help feeling that something was missing. It wasn’t the flavour, the atmosphere, or the company.
“Sophe?”
Sophia snapped around, smiling at Roz. “Sorry. Miles away.”
“You okay?” said Adam. “Nothing wrong with yours, is there?”
“Oh no, the food’s fantastic. I’m just...you know.” She shrugged. “End of term, end of the run. All that.”
“It was a great run,” said Roz. “You all three were fantastic. I mean that. So don’t be too downhearted.”
Sophia smiled at her. “Thanks Roz.”
“It’ll probably be the last time we’ll star in anything here,” said Julie. “We should let the undergrads have their fun with the leads.”
“You two can be the grand old dames of the company,” said Adam. “Sitting in the wings with your Oscars, bossing the leads around.”
“I hope not,” said Sophia.
“I do,” said Julie.
Sophia giggled into her wine glass.
“We had some great responses,” said Roz.
Julie smirked at Sophia. “One of us definitely did.”
A quick shiver rattled up Sophia’s spine. She put down her glass and stared at her plate.
“How so?” she heard Roz say. “Come on, anything interesting?”
Act, thought Sophia. Her head filled with music; the first crashing notes of the opera. Act.
“Maybe,” she said.
Her friends were silent. She could only hear the chattering at other tables and the chink of cutlery.
“Shall I tell them?” said Julie.
“No, no.” Sophia lifted her head, forcing a smile. “Do you remember the guy in the pub, after the first performance? Big coat, whisky, congratulated us.”
“Yeah. What about him?” said Roz.
Adam leaned forward. “You gave him your number afterwards didn’t you? In the street?”
“How did I miss this?” said Roz. “Things have moved on from that, I take it?”
Sophia raised a calming hand. “We’ve been on two dates. Nothing more.”
“Oh come on, ‘nothing’?” said Julie. “You should have seen your face yesterday morning. You were lit up.”
“Oh god, was I?”
“Yeah. Don’t worry about it, it was sweet!”
“Really? Sweet? Eugh.”
“Well it was. Those are the facts. Speaking as a psychology graduate, after taking in all the evidence, I can only say that you are one loved-up girl.”
“Oh shut up,” said Sophia, brushing her hair out of her eye as the other three laughed.
“So is date number three on the cards?” said Adam.
“I don’t know. He hasn’t got in touch since Friday night.”
“Date number three,” said Roz. “Big moment. You and Michaela only became an item after date three, right Adam?”
“Yep.”
“Took you and Leanne more though, didn’t it?” said Julie to Roz.
“Four or five. Leanne hadn’t quite come out when we first started dating. She needed a bit more time. Number three is still important though.”
“Go on then,” said Sophia. “Why?”
“You haven’t heard Roz’s famous dating advice?” said Julie. “I thought everyone had.”
“It’s new to me.”
Roz turned to face Sophia. “Date one is ‘do I fancy you?’ Date two is ‘yes, I do fancy you.’ But date three is ‘do I fancy you enough?’”
Adam and Julie made impressed noises.
“Such wisdom,” whispered Adam. “Truly she is the Buddha of dating.”
Sophia smiled, laughed, and acted the part well. She only noticed that she was acting once the conversation changed topic. She realised that her smile was false, her responses measured and carefully chosen. Shouldn’t I be happier, she thought? She felt a sudden urge to tell them everything, to blurt it all out at once – time travel, Mozart, Prague, coaches, palaces, beauty, beauty, beauty.
And Alexander. Did she like him ‘enough’?
A picture on the wall caught her eye. It was nestled away amongst broad landscapes of modern Mediterranean cities, a lone painting amongst many photographs. It showed a couple in a vaguely Arabian-looking bedchamber; the woman was stood, telling something to the man as he lay back on the bed, watching. Sophia guessed what it was: the storytelling queen from the Thousand and One Nights, telling her husband tales to stave off execution. It was a fantasy, of course. She knew that.
Take me there, thought Sophia. Take me to her.
***
Now comes the hard part for Sophia - how to explain all this! Do you think she'll be able to bluff her way through? How long can a relationship last when she has to keep a secret this big? Please vote and comment if you enjoyed the chapter and have any thoughts.
I should think most of you know what the Youtube vid is, what with the near 200m views it's got. It is of course Sophia's alarm, Get Lucky by Daft Punk. A little different from Mozart...