The Music Box: Chapter Twenty-Three

Mr Crouch was growing quite animated now, Emily noticed. He was speaking in great, passionate arcs which his hands would trace, spinning and pointing and sweeping his arms in gestures that illustrated what he was trying to explain. There was certainly no stopping him, she could see he had tapped into a vein of passion and urgent belief intrinsic to his very essence.

“Perhaps the saddest thing of all, the greatest tragedy, is knowing that we are all born with access to this world, it is there for the taking. We could shoot for the stars and travel far beyond them, discover things that would amaze and astound even the most imaginative of souls. As children we wander often into this world and are delighted to discover its hidden secrets, to venture fearlessly into wondrous places that nobody else seems able to follow.

“But it's never long before we are warned not to visit there, it’s declared off-limits if we wish to be accepted in this withered little kernel and we are warned - under pain of ostracision and worse - to quit our daydreaming, pull our socks up and get on with life in the ‘real world’.”

Mr Crouch let out a small peal of laughter, though it was without a skerrick of mirth. This seemed to have been welling up in him for some time. Emily saw he seemed almost visibly relieved to have got this all off his chest - she was reminded that he must have very few people with which he could talk.

“I decided, very early on, that I would not listen to these warnings,” he said, his voice far more subdued, his attention coming back to Emily. “I found nothing in this world that came close to the one at my fingertips, why on earth would I turn my back on it?”

He hung and shook his head as though in sympathy, but Emily was unable to tell if it was for everyone else or for himself. He began idly flicking through his book again.

“I have devoted my life to this wider world,” he continued. “I have sought ways to open the doors that lie locked in-between, to widen our boundaries and allow what I can to seep through. I have made discoveries the world of science could never hope to dream about, gained insights the world’s most renowned philosophers could never comprehend. I am tempted each and every day of my life to pass through one of these doors and never return. Only one thing has ever held me back.”

At this, he quickly clapped the book shut. His eyes had been bright and glassy and Emily knew that as he described it he was off in this realm beyond, but with this last admission they darkened and he seemed to come crashing back to earth with a resounding thud. Emily was thoroughly overwhelmed, yet nevertheless felt a thawing in her appraisal of this strange man. Throughout his speech he had undergone so many transformations, loomed in such stark and shadowy peaks, she was surprised that he now seemed simply himself. She realised she was holding her breath, waiting desperately to hear what had been holding him back, hoping to discover what this single line that had been left dangling with such tantalising promise would snare.

She needed to know so badly she had forgotten about anything and everything else, even the music box had left her mind for the first time since she had seen it. But the closing of the book seemed to signal, too, the end of his admissions.