“Every night—as long as I’m in the building.”
“Everynight? Then why haven’t I heard them before?” he asked, a slight challenge in his voice.
“You have. I just… told you that it was the radio.”
He quirked an eyebrow.
“You’re saying those were the voices of fictional characters I was hearing?”
Aurelia nodded, then said, “I’m sorry I lied to you, but it seemed safer to say that instead of the truth.”
He sighed.
“The truth being that you have nightly conversations with fictional characters.”
She waggled her head, suddenly uncomfortable at having to make the admission so boldly, but said, “Yes.”
“What am I supposed to do with this information, Aurelia?”
Oliver looked genuinely confused.
Raising her eyebrows hopefully, she offered, “Believe me?”
They’d reached a mutual accord for an hour, agreeing to wait for Antonia and Julia to get back to the flat before returning to the topic of Aurelia’s big reveal. Oliver had retreated into the bedroom to unpack, leaving Aurelia to pace between the living room and the closed bedroom door, feeling that while his verdict may have been delayed, it was still very much up in the air.
Antonia and Julia came home in holiday moods, soaked from what had become a downpour and laughing after an enjoyable afternoon in the city on their own. Aurelia felt a pang of envy to see how happy they were when she was still at odds with Oliver. It made her wish she could speed up time and get to tomorrow, so that he already would have heard the characters and been done processing that Aurelia had been telling the truth.
Julia went into her room to dry off, while Antonia took Aurelia aside to ask how things had gone. Speaking in whispers, Aurelia told her that Oliver didn’t believe a word, and that Antonia and Julia would need to tell him everything they’d seen in order to help corroborate it all. Nodding solemnly, Antonia went to change too, then came back into the living room and signaled to Aurelia to summon Oliver.
Grateful to her big sister for taking charge, Aurelia knocked on the bedroom door and slowly opened it. Oliver was sitting on a chair in one corner of the room, with Biscuit at his feet. He was leaning back, his elbow on the armrest as a hand rumpled his hair.
Aurelia walked over to him and took his hand in hers, then gently ran her free hand through his hair, arranging it back into place.
“Antonia and Julia are here,” she said quietly. “Can you come out and hear what they have to say?”
He assessed her for a moment, eyes scanning her face.
“What are they going to tell me?”
“Well, they’re going to tell you about the characters.”
“They are? You’re sure?”
“Yes. They know I’ve told you and they want to help me. Us.”
Oliver continued to look at her, either trying to read her or waiting for her to relent and say it was all in good fun. Aurelia held his gaze, waiting.
“Alright,” he said, standing reluctantly. “I’ll have a listen.”
She took his face in her hands and kissed him, then looked into his eyes.
“Thank you.”
34
Somehowitwasn’tAureliaor Antonia who swayed Oliver into believing the fantastical story Aurelia had told him, but Julia.
Her enthusiasm about the characters—characters from books she hadn’t even read all the way through—and the stories she told Oliver about them seemed to crack his disbelief. Antonia’s stoic retelling of what she’d seen and heard, including her initial anger toward Aurelia for telling what she’d thought was a whopper of a lie, had also helped. It seemed to validate his own doubt while also showing him that someone very rational, who had a daughter to worry about, already accepted the unbelievable story he was now being asked to believe.
