milliways_bar | (no subject)

"That's a lovely hat," Anne says, cheerfully, coming up behind her. "You do such nice work, Phil."

"Anne, hello!" beams Phil. "It is quite nice, isn't it? It used to have a bit of blue ribbon on it, but I thought it was just ghastly, so I have taken it upon myself to improve its sad condition."

She gestures to the other chair, "Do join me, Queen Anne, and tell me everything that you've been up to."

"'Everything' has been studying, mostly," Anne laughs, seating herself and putting her tea down on the table.

"I'm afraid I have no exciting news for you, Phil. How are the victims?"

"No news at all? Things must have been dreadfully dull around here, which I thought was quite impossible."

She flings the hat down on the table somewhat carelessly. Luckily, it seems to miss the tea.

"The victims? You must mean the boys back home. What a marvelous nickname! I shall have to be careful now or I just know I shall start calling them that to their faces, and then how mad they would be! Well, perhaps. They are all quite willing victims, after all." She grins, "And they are fine, although Alec is quite displeased with me at the moment, well, as much as he can be anyway. I agreed to let Alonzo take me to Alice Greene's party next week, and so he's been moping about, poor fellow."

Anne laughs, and picks the hat up to look at it admiringly.

"I suppose they'd have to be fairly willing," she says, smiling at Phil, "to trail after you as they do. Poor Alec, I do hope he'll recover."

Said oh so seriously.

She's joking.

"Oh, I'm sure he'll be just fine. He's quite sensible like that."

Phil sighs, "Sometimes, I wish he were romantic enough to do something truly crazy when I break his heart, like throw himself off the bell tower or something."

Anne's eyes widen, and she looks up in concern.

"Why, Phil! What a terribly heartless thing to say! I understand wanting romance, dear, but wishing he'd throw himself off a bell tower is a bit much even for me. And what do you mean when you break his heart? You say that as if you already know you will."

"Oh, no, Anne. You really take me much too literally, dear."

Phil grins with a shake of her head, "I never said I wanted him to throw himself from the tower, only that I wished he were romantic enough to consider it. If I knew he would do something like that he must truly love me the most, and that would make this whole decision so much easier, don't you know."

Such a practical use for romance, after all.

"And as to knowing I shall break his heart, well, I can hardly know that now. But," she looks solemnly at her friend, "it's a distinct possibility that I might, and one must be prepared for all sorts of circumstances."

"It must be nice to know you have the ability to break someone's heart," Anne says, a little wistfully, "though I'm not at all sure I'd really want to, even if I could."

"Oh, it is nice," Phil says cheerfully. "Knowing that someone will do just about anything for you. Men may have most of the power in the world, but when it comes to hearts, we have complete control."

It's Phil's version of early feminism. With tea. And frilly hats.

She pauses and thinks for a moment and then says, a bit more soberly, "But no, it's not any fun when it actually happens. It can be quite devastating, really, even if you don't like the fellow even a little bit. I may be frivolous and a flirt, but do try not to hurt anyone. Have you never broken any hearts, Anne?"

Anne shakes her head, laughing.

"No, never. How could I? A little, skinny red-headed orphan girl with freckles that will simply never go away and eyes too big for my face? I'd be terribly surprised to hear I'd broken anyone's heart, Phil. My friend Diana, on the other hand, has wreaked havoc with the hearts of Avonlea boys since we were little girls."

"Anne Shirley!" Phil says incredulously, "You know perfectly well that you are absolutely lovely. You may have freckles, but not that many, and besides, you have such a pretty nose, most people don't even notice. And your hair really is sort of auburny right now, you know. Trust me on this, Anne, dear. I can assure my complements are one hundred percent honest."

And then, a little quieter, "I'm sure you've broken hearts and never even realized it, Queen Anne."

Anne looks rather taken-aback for a moment, and then laughs brightly.

"Oh, Phil, you are a dear. And I will happily return your compliments, for you really are the prettiest girl I ever saw."

She pats her friend's hand affectionately.

"Well, I suppose it is possible, although you'd think I'd have noticed, really. After all, it would have had to be someone I know, wouldn't it? But it's nicer to think that I haven't, really."

"Am I? Thank you, Anne. I rather think so myself, sometimes, you know. Of course, it's rather hard to tell here, since people dress so...differently"

Is that a man in a dress over at that table? No...

"And I think it's more than possible, dear, and that you haven't noticed at all. Your Gilbert hasn't even looked twice at me, you know."

Anne's smile is very wry.

"Would you want him to?"

She isn't jealous. Oh, no.

Just curious.

Phil smirks at her. Jealous? Anne? Of course not.

"Why wouldn't I want him to? He's charming, smart, funny, and he's very handome, isn't he? Surely you've noticed that, Anne. Besides, you've already said you're simply chums."

Mockery? Phil? Never.

"But never fear, Anne, he'll have none of me, even if I did my level best, which I won't. You'd leave me so far behind in that competition that I'd simply fall away into oblivion. I suppose I should be frightfully jealous of you, but instead I'm just desperate to see you completely happy."

Anne only shakes her head at her, laughing with some bemusement.

"Phil, you are the dearest creature in the world, but I'm afraid you never seem to make very much sense. And yes, Gil is all of those things--charming and handsome and funny and smart, but--but he's Gil. I couldn't possibly--that is, he'd never--it isn't like that."

Really.

Phil does not laugh at poor, flustered, oblivious Anne. No, she doesn't.

She does smirk, though.

"Whatever you say, Anne. But I think that perhaps you need to pay better attention to such things. You wouldn't want it to just pass you by, would you?"

She shrugs, "Of course, when we go to Redmond, you're sure to meet heaps of college fellows who will likely fall head over heels for you, so it may be well that you're waiting."

Anne's laughter is very bright.

"And prove Rachel Lynde right? She doesn't approve of university--says I'll just be filling my head with nonsense and flirt with all the boys instead of studying.

"Besides, there's Bran. And although you and Ruby Gillis both seem able and willing to keep beaux on a string, and all of them crazy for you, I think I prefer just one in his right mind."

A little voice in the back of her mind, however, niggles at her to say that perhaps she still isn't quite sure that Bran is a beau, but she pushes it firmly away.

Phil laughs too. She can never be serious for very long.

"Your Rachel Lynde sounds a good deal like my mother. She'd be perfectly happy if I just stayed at home and left my brain just the way it is. But Father so wants me to go, and I could never disappoint him. I really think if he wanted me to go to the moon, I'd try to find a way to do it."

"Oh, they both sound lovely," Anne says, wistfully. "Just like how I imagined my parents would sound, although Mother was a teacher as well, so I think she would have wanted me to go to university.

"Matthew was terribly proud that I could go to university, and I longed to go for him and for Marilla, as well as for myself, really. I'd have done anything in the world for Matthew. He was the first person to really want to do anything for me, you see."

"They are, and I love them dearly. I'm sure your parents would be tremendously proud of you, Anne."

She puts two and two together, what with Anne saying "orphan" a few minutes ago.

"Matthew and Marilla are...the people you live with in Avonlea then?"

"Oh, I do hope so," Anne says, earnestly. "I often imagine what they might think of everything I do and all the people that I know."

And her eyes grow soft and her smile very fond.

"Yes, Matthew and Marilla Cuthbert. It was a mistake, really--they'd wanted a boy, but the asylum sent me instead, and they kept me anyway. They are the dearest folk in all the world, Phil, and I do miss them so, especially since...well, it's only Marilla and me, now, at Green Gables, you see. Since last summer."

"It sounds like you've had two whole lives, one in Bolingbroke and one at Green Gables. It's a very romantic story, you know. It's so very suited to your dramatic personality. I just love it!"

But it's not all romance, is it?

"I'm sorry about Matthew. You must have loved him very much."

"O-oh," Anne falters, coming back to herself, "well, I wasn't really ever in Bolingbroke, Phil, except to be born there. I never lived there, you see."

She recovers, however, and smiles, thinking of Matthew--shy, gentle Matthew who had been the first person to want her to stay.

"I did," she says. "I was so starved for love, and he let me love him. He was the best and kindest of men."

Her smile turns more cheerful.

"Someday I hope I can meet your folks, Phil. They seem lovely."

Phil beams. Serious conversations are tough. But cheerful? She can do cheerful!

"And so you shall, dear Anne, you shall indeed! When you get home--and you will dear, make no mistake--when you get home, you will come and visit me and I shall show you off to everyone. What fun we will have together. Oh! And then I'll be able to introduce you to Alec and Alonzo, and you must -must- help me choose!"

"I'll do nothing of the sort," Anne says firmly. "You must learn to make up your own mind about that, Philippa Gordon."

She laughs.

"But I will happily come and visit you, never fear, although I suppose you are used to a rather more active social life than the one I lead in little Avonlea."

"Oh, but Anne, I so desperately need your guidance" Phil ~~whines~~ says. "I know that your judgment must be absolutely impeccable on matters of romance."

Well, actually, when you think about it...

"Or perhaps not. But we shall have a marvelous visit all the same."

She smiles at Anne, "Oh, very likely my life is much more social, and we shall be extremely busy. My father calls me his social butterfly, and I'm not a bit ashamed to admit that the name suits me to a T. Depending on the season there could be parties or events or jamborees almost every evening."

"I'll look forward to it, then," Anne says, laughing. "I do so enjoy parties and dances and meeting all sorts of enjoyable new people. And in return, Amy and I would like to cordially invite you--although it's dreadfully early, I know--to a Christmas party here, in our room, this December. So mark your calendar, social butterfly! We'll be very disappointed if you miss our party, small though it may be."

Phil is absolutely giddy.

"A party here! How wonderful. Of course I accept, and gladly! Christmastime is the very best time for being with friends, and any and every gathering is worth attending. But yours, of course, will be extra-special, for you are my very newest friends, which gives you a special place in my heart. You must let me know when it is and I shan't miss it for all the world."

"We certainly will," Anne promises. "It won't be very large, I'm afraid, since our room is really quite small, but we'll do our best. And it isn't for a while yet, of course. We wanted to be able to spend some of Christmas with our friends here, just as you said, Phil!"

She beams.

"And one day we'll all be at Redmond together, and what a marvelous time we'll have!"

"So it will be a small and intimate affair, which can certainly be quite preferable to a big party, whether you are a social butterfly or not," Phil says with a slight hint of self-mockery, "I'm sure it will be lovely. Would you like me to bring anything? My mother's recipe for chocolate cake may just be sinful it's so delicious."

She laughs brightly.

"Oh, I haven't looked forward to college this much since...since ever!"

"When we start planning it, I'll be sure to let you know," Anne laughs.

"Although...if your cake is so very good, I think I can safely say that it would be very appreciated if you would bring it."

"I shall await the date with baited breath," says Phil with a twinkle in her voice.

"And my cake really is quite good. I admit that I am really a dreadful cook. Everything I make turns out horribly wrong. EXCEPT for chocolate cake. It's the only thing I can do properly, and it turns out marvelously, I must say."

"Cakes generally do," Anne says, wisely, "as long as you don't try to flavor them with liniment instead of vanilla."

"Flavor with...oh Anne! How dreadful!"

Phil laughs aloud, glad to have found someone who shares her habit of cooking mishaps.

"Well, the first time I tried to roast a chicken I didn't take the feathers off. I was ten years old, and determined to do it myself. I suppose I thought they would just...fall off in the oven. It was, obviously, a complete disaster. I was so ashamed, I refused to go into the kitchen for a month after that."

Anne laughs with her.

"I think Marilla truly despaired of ever teaching me to keep my head out of the clouds while I was cooking, but I did learn my lesson, and I'm quite a good cook now. Even the most vivid of imaginations wasn't able to get rid of the taste of that liniment."

"Anne, I think that anyone who tries to keep your head out of the clouds for too long is going to be sadly disappointed. Lucky for me, though, I've no intention of bringing you back to earth. You're far more interesting and fun when your imagination is concocting fascinating new things."

People with imaginations really are that much more interesting, aren't they?

"Do you write them down Anne? I imagine you're a very talented writer? Will you study English at Redmond, do you think?"

"Certainly English," Anne says, and bites her lip.

"...as a matter of fact, I want to be an author. I've written a few short stories already."

Phil grins, "I knew it. I'll probably study mathematics, myself. I'm frightfully good at it. I'm much more for numbers than for words."

Because Phil's not a wordy person. Not Phil.

Her face brightens even more, "Have you? Will you let me read them?"

Fade out on the friends gabbing giddily into the night.