11
That night, Aurelia had been able to get down to the shop at midnight without waking Julia.
She chatted with the characters as a group for a few hours, but then took the opportunity to speak with Jane alone when Rochester settled himself into the armchair to talk with Peter.
Jane didn’t like leaving his side, but when she saw him comfortably chatting with Peter, she seemed more willing to move around the shop on her own.
She and Aurelia walked upstairs and sat together on the window seat.
They’d been talking for nearly an hour, with Aurelia gathering details she could use to pique Julia’s interest in Jane’s novel, when Aurelia heard a voice coming from the other end of the mezzanine.
“What are you doing down here?”
Aurelia looked up to see which of the characters was talking, but there was Julia, standing in the doorway that led to the flat.
Aurelia’s mouth fell open at the sight of her.
“Julia! What—how did you—you’re here?”
Julia started walking toward her and Aurelia stumbled to her feet, her eyes racing around the shop as she waited for the characters to disappear back into their books. But they were still there, looking at the newcomer.
“I’m standing right in front of you, Aunt Aurelia,” Julia said, the sarcasm thick in her voice. Even in the wee hours, she seemed to be able to conjure up that teenage tone with zero effort.
“Yes, but how are you—why didn’t—”
Aurelia felt caught out, as though she’d been found doing something she shouldn’t be doing.
Again, she looked around at the characters, trying to process what was happening.
The few times Oliver had come into the shop after midnight, the characters had vanished instantly, yet here Julia was and here they were.
Had something changed? Or was it something about Julia?
“What can you see right now? Me and what else?”
“A bunch of people dressed in weird clothes.” Julia looked around and then amended her observation. “Old clothes, I guess. What is this? A fancy-dress party? Why aren’t you dressed up? Why didn’t you invite me?”
“You can see them?”
“Uh, yeah.”
“Okay,” Aurelia said, still disbelieving. She thrust a finger out and pointed it at Jane. “Who’s sitting just there?”
“Aunt Aurelia! I don’t know—it’s some woman. Hi,” she added, giving Jane a slight wave.
“Hello. Are you Julia? Aurelia told us you were visiting.”
“That’s me. I’m here for a month.”
“You—you’re talking to her?” Aurelia asked, amazed. “You can really see her? Hear her?”
“Yes, and I see a bunch of other people down there, too. You’re being rude, by the way.” She raised her eyebrows at Aurelia and then turned back to Jane. “What’s your name?”
“Jane. Jane Rochester.”
“Seriously? That’s so weird! I’m reading a book right now about someone named Jane and someone else named Rochester.”
Jane was about to speak, but Aurelia cut her off, not yet ready to have her worlds collide. She didn’t know what was happening but knew she needed time to figure it out before Julia realized that Jane Rochester was actually Jane Eyre Rochester.
“This is a private… after hours… book club—meeting—thing,” Aurelia spluttered. She looked to Jane, nodding as though to convince her, as well. “Why don’t you head back up to the flat and I’ll meet you there in a bit.”
“That’s alright, I’ll just wait for you here.”
Julia plopped herself down on the window seat and Aurelia’s mind suddenly boggled at the stark contrast between Jane’s sedate brown dress and Julia’s tank top and sleep shorts.
That wasn’t the only contrast; Julia’s calm acceptance of finding her aunt chatting with a bunch of people in the shop after hours stood out against Aurelia’s frazzled state of panic.
“No, you know what—I’ll come up with you,” Aurelia said quickly. “I’m tired, I’ll leave everyone to it.” She pulled Julia up from the seat and started tugging her toward the flat.
“Don’t you need to let them out? Close up?”
“No, they know how to let themselves out. Could you make sure to lock up and turn out the lights?” Aurelia called down to the characters, as if such a thing were even possible.
She mouthed sorry to them as she stuffed Julia through the door and closed it behind her.
Aurelia started up the stairs, but Julia stood at the bottom.
“That was abrupt.”
Aurelia turned back to look at her.
“It was abrupt. Good vocab word.”
“How often do you have that book club—or meeting, or whatever it is?”
“Um, it depends. Not that often.”
Aurelia started up the stairs again and this time Julia followed her.
“Jane Rochester,” Julia said, trying out the name. “It is weird, isn’t it?”
“How do you mean?”
“Aunt Aurelia! Stop being annoying. You know what I mean—Jane Eyre, Mr. Rochester.”
“A lot of people like that book. I told you, it’s a classic. I’m sure there are loads of girls named Lizzy Darcy because their parents liked Pride and Prejudice.”
“Is Lizzy someone from Pride and Prejudice?”
“Yes, the main character, as it happens. You’ll meet her soon enough.” Aurelia paused and then added, “When you start reading the book.”
Julia rolled her eyes and shuffled back to her room.
“Goodnight,” she called out as she shut the door behind her, apparently done with their conversation.
At the sound of the door latch clicking into place, Aurelia’s face became a mask of shock and surprise. Oh my god! she mouthed to herself. Had that really just happened? Had Julia just walked into the shop, introduced herself to Jane Eyre—Jane Rochester—and sat down to have a chat?