Time Is Magic

TIME IS MAGIC

Time Is Magic. Is it? If it is, we should be able to move freely within it, to go forward and back at will. If only we could find the key - the spell - the formula - we would be able to roll about in Time, choose what Time in which to live our finite lives at this moment, and what Time the next moment ... or, at any rate, another moment. It should be possible; it really should.

There is somebody-or-other's theory about Time being interlocking circles of parallel universes. Was it Wittgenstein? Stephen Hawking? Is it possible there truly are parallel universes, and could they interlock? If so, it might explain the divergences of memory. When two witnesses of, say, an accident, describe what they saw, and - as so often happens - the descriptions vary considerably, could it not be that the first witness saw it in one universe's Time and the other saw it in another?

Or, looking at things the other way round, could it be that Time is a function of our own consciousness and not something external at all? Could we ourselves be the originators of Time, the generators of it? So that when, fearful of being late, we pray desperately that somehow Time will be stretched so that we arrive in Time, and it does ... or it appears to have done so because it is just not possible to drive that distance on that road in the Time it has taken us. But perhaps it is actually our consciousness of what we understand Time to be that has kept us within our concept of the Time available.

We live in a three-dimensional world; we see material existence in terms of height, width and depth; but what if Time is just another dimension so that actually we see things in terms of height, width, depth, now, then and to come? Which, in a sense, we do of course: each moment that passes is future, present and past, in that order, isn't it? According to our everyday understanding, it cannot be anything else.

So she mused, thoughts flashing across the screen of her mind as she gazed at the figure kneeling at her feet. If she accepted his proposal the enormous sapphire and first-water diamond ring would be hers. But would its acquisition condemn her to a life of obedience and acquiescence? Or would it release her into a world of love and freedom?

She looked at his bowed head, at the dark hair curling at the nape of his neck, and she cupped the back of his head with her hand, stroking the lovely shape of it. He looked up, his hazel-brown eyes veiled. She couldn't tell what he was thinking. The hand holding the jeweller's box cradling the ring in soft satin, shook. He blinked, the long dark lashes momentarily sweeping the curve of his cheekbones. The beginnings of a smile bent the outer edges of his lips upwards.

She wished passionately she could go forward in Time, to three or four years hence. She wanted to see them at home, together, comfortable with each other, with a child - or two. She wanted to know what might lie ahead. Of course she knew the future would not be easy; he was quite a bit older than her, and his duties as heir to the firm would at times take him abroad without her; but she thought if she knew he loved her - loved her, come what may - she thought if she had that security, she would be able to cope with the arduous official entertaining and the occasional separation.

Suppose she turned him down? Time Is Magic: for an instant she saw herself married to another man, rich enough, perhaps not very bright but very loving. She saw them together in a garden with small children and dogs, laughing, playing, happy in each other's company, relaxed and confident. She saw them older, with a teenage daughter, still happy. She saw them in old age, in armchairs by a fire, dogs at their feet; and she watched, in timeless fascination, as the man, now craggy-faced and grey-haired, reached out his right hand and took her left in his - and she saw how the engagement ring of bright rubies swung loose on her aged finger. The instant passed - and the figure at her feet still waited for an answer.

He smiled up at her. "Is it such a surprise?" he asked. "You must have guessed the way things were heading - didn't you?"

Yes, she supposed she had, if for no other reason than frenzied speculation in the media. She stroked her index finger around his cheek, tracing the outline of his lips. He kissed it in passing, and she found herself longing for this Time to stretch, for her to have Time to make the right decision. She couldn't keep him kneeling there for much longer, could she? His knees would go numb ... but it was difficult. It was hard to separate his status from him, the man, the person inside the romantic image, the public figure.

She tried to see behind the smile and the questioning eyes. The veil seemed to have lifted a little - and suddenly she had a sense of withdrawal, of him moving away from her, and she knew with immediate certainty that the rumours were true: he had been in love with someone else and she had rejected him. How that must have hurt! She felt pierced with distress on his behalf; she wanted to comfort him, to soothe his wounded pride, almost to mother him, but of course that wasn't possible: it would be more than his dignity could stand.

But in that moment of knowing, Time drew aside and Magic showed her what could come: the loneliness of being second-best, the constant awareness of his love for that other woman even the birth of sons would not obliterate, the temptation of other men's attentions and then - a black oblivion. She shuddered.

"Someone walked over your grave?" he asked, grinning up at her. "Was my proposal that bad?"
"No!" Instinct made her hasten to reassure him. "No ... it was just ... nothing at all."
Surely if she was kind - generous - loving ... the chilling prospect she had just glimpsed could be avoided? If Time really is Magic, if she became everything to him that the other woman wasn't, surely she would, in the end, become his Queen of Hearts?
Only Time would tell.
She accepted him.
He got to his feet and slid that great ring onto her finger.
She vowed to herself she would do everything she could to make him love her. To obliterate his shame at the dismissal by that other woman.
Besides ...
She grimaced privately to herself at the unaccustomed honesty she was allowing herself.
Besides ... in her heart of hearts she knew she had never meant to turn him down. She so ... SO ... wanted to be a Princess. A real one.