Distant Voices

by Barbara Erskine

‘So, madame, what do you think of the view, eh? Is it not beautiful?’ He had not looked directly at her, but who else could he be speaking to? It had to be her. There was no one else there.

  Startled out of politeness, she grimaced, ignoring this question. ‘Can you see me?’

  ‘But of course.’ He smiled.

  As well he might. It was hot at home now summer had come and she had retreated to the sewing room wearing only knickers and bra – for which small mercy she gave a quick prayer of thanks, she had so nearly succumbed to the urge to walk around the house naked!

  Embarrassed, she tried to resist the urge to wrap her arms protectively and disguisingly around her chest, and failed. She could feel herself blushing.

  ‘Are you really here, properly?’ It was a dumb question, but she was feeling severely rattled.

  ‘We are both here properly, madame.’

  She laughed. ‘Not necessarily.’

  He turned and looked at her at last. He had the most beautiful eyes. They ran swiftly and a little too professionally over her body, and then returned to do it again, slowly. Caressingly. She could feel her blush spreading.

  Casually he stood up and walked to the edge of the chasm, staring down at the falls. The sound of water was deafening around them. ‘So, are you suggesting that we are, or should be, improper?’

  She could hear the laughter in his voice above the roar.

  ‘No, I am asking if you are a ghost.’ It sounded crazy, but it was a crazy situation.

  He let out a huge guffaw of laughter. ‘I am if you are.’

  ‘I’m not a ghost!’ She was shocked.

  ‘No?’ He turned to face her, his eyes sparkling with humour. ‘But I think you may be a wraith, perhaps. Do you know the difference?’

  She shook her head.

  ‘Ah.’ He reached between the rocks to pick one of the delicate bell-shaped flowers which grew there and stood looking down at it. ‘I think it is a matter of relativity.’ He chuckled. ‘We must come here again to discuss it.’ He paused. She saw his glance run quickly over her again and Serena was agonisingly aware of her faded, non-glamorous elastic, well past its sell-by date – the kind of thing no French woman would be seen dead in – probably no Frenchwoman was seen dead in. He did not seem to notice. She saw his tongue run fleetingly across his lips as, smiling benignly, he stepped forward and ran his finger over her shoulder, lightly, causing only the slightest frisson, nudging one of the offending straps out of the way.

  His touch was only too real. But she was supposed to be out of her body. So what was her body doing here? It should be at home waiting for her. And it should not be showing or feeling the slightest interest in the presence of another man, however attractive. She did, after all, still adore Des.

  Serena bit her lip. She knew it was time to go.

  Before she lost all sense of reality.

  And shame.

  He was standing very close to her now. Smiling, he handed her the flowers.

  And that was it. The next moment she was sitting cross-legged on the sewing room floor.

  Her first thought was, ‘Bother!’ or a word to that effect. Her second was, ‘I must buy some new underwear; how could I ever let Des see me like this,’ her third was, perversely, ‘I wish I could tell him all about it!’

  But Desmond, she knew, would not understand.

  He would probably have her certified.

  He would probably have her burned at the stake.

  Better to keep it a secret. Just between herself.

  And the Frenchman.

  Looking down she found she was still holding the spray of flowers he had given her and she wondered what they were. Perhaps he would know. She could always return to collect some more. But perhaps not. It wouldn’t be fair to Des!

  Smiling, she stook up and, still wearing only her underwear, she wandered slowly downstairs.

  The Gift of Music

  The tennis ball hung for a second in the sky, dazzling white against the blue, and then with a smashing hit Kim had driven it across the net.

  ‘Ser-vice!’ The note of admiration in Fel’s voice was genuine. ‘How come you didn’t do that last time, honey?’

  She laughed. ‘Don’t think I wasn’t trying to!’

  She crossed the court and held her ball against the racquet ready to serve again. In front of her the ground was almost bare of grass. Each time a ball hit little spits of dust shot up. It was uncomfortably hot. She thought with longing of the cool porch and the iced lemonade, made with real lemons, waiting in the kitchen, and distracted by the thought served a double fault.

  ‘Deuce!’ Fel called. ‘Come on, I thought you were going to beat me.’

  ‘I can’t.’ She threw down the racquet, rubbing the palms of her hands against her short skirt. ‘Come on. I want a drink. I’ll race you up to the house!’

  She vaulted the net, laughing, as he collected up the balls. She knew it irritated him to leave the game unfinished and she liked teasing him by doing it. Fel was a meticulous man: that was part of his charm, but just occasionally he had to be shown that life could be unpredictable, as unpredictable as it had been for her when, in London, she had met the young American lawyer and within months had married him and found herself living in New York.

  They ran up the green lawn to the house and threw themselves down on two long chairs on the porch. ‘Well, who’s getting the drinks?’ Kim asked. She pushed her dark hair out of her eyes and glanced across at him.

  He groaned. ‘I’m having second thoughts about marrying you, woman. Marry in haste, repent at leisure. At this rate I shan’t have any leisure to repent!’ Levering himself up again he stood looking down at her. From above, her small neat head with its pointed chin and long-lashed hazel eyes looked strangely vulnerable and childlike. He reached out to touch her, just for a second, protectively, unable to stop himself and she smiled up at him, reaching out with her hand in his.

  Somewhere deep in the house the phone rang. Fel listened, distracted by it, then it stopped.

  ‘Ma must have answered,’ he murmured.

  It had been a risk bringing Kim up to Connecticut to meet Ma. That was why he had waited until they were safely married. He glanced over his shoulder towards the shadowy door. His mother was a strong personality. She liked to interfere, to run her children’s lives. His sister had escaped, and he had learned to negotiate from a safe distance. But Kim. Would Kim be able to cope with her?

  He grinned down at her again. ‘Ma likes you, honey. We did the right thing coming straight here to tell her ourselves that we’ve got married.’

  ‘I like her too.’ Kim stared dreamily across the rose bed towards the two great chestnuts which almost hid the next door house. ‘She’s nothing like I expected.’

  He grinned. ‘Nothing like me, you mean. That’s because I took after Pa. You’d have liked him, Kim. He was a terrific guy. My sister Penny is more like Ma.’

  Kim glanced up. Yes, there it was again, the troubled, preoccupied look she had noticed whenever he mentioned his sister. She wondered now if it was the moment to ask him about her, but already he was changing the subject. He released her fingers gently from his and went to lean on the verandah railing. He seemed to have forgotten about the lemonade.

  ‘I told Ma about you last night, Kim. I mean about your wanting to go to the music school.’ He frowned, scraping at the flaking paint with his finger nail. ‘She wasn’t too keen on that idea. She reckoned a wife ought to stay home and look after her husband.’ He tried to lighten the remark with a laugh.

  ‘Just as you do!’ she flashed. ‘What a coincidence! And I suppose she reckons that a wife should be kept barefoot in the kitchen. What is it? Kinder, Küchen, Kirche. That would be right up her street, I’ll bet. Straight from the old country. How archaic!’

  She swung her legs down and sat sideways on the chair, her face tight with anger and disappointment.

  ‘Calm down, Kim. She said nothing of the sort.’ Bracing himself against t
he railing, Fel looked at her. ‘Listen sweetheart. Of course I’d like you at home looking after me. What man wouldn’t? And I’d like kids – soon. I want a family and I’ve never made a secret of that. But you’ve never made a secret of the fact that you want to give up work to go back to school and train to be a professional singer. Okay. I knew the score when I met you and I asked you to marry me, knowing what you wanted.’

  She levered herself from the low chair and came to stand beside him, picking a cluster of rosebuds from the climber which circled the pillar and sniffing at them. ‘So why keep bringing the subject up? You make me feel a selfish louse.’

  ‘Kim!’ He put his hands on her shoulders and pulled her to face him. ‘That’s nonsense and you know it. It wasn’t me who brought it up. It was Ma. It’s natural she should care. She wants grandchildren.’

  ‘She’s got grandchildren, Fel.’

  He stared at her. ‘What do you mean?’ Imperceptibly his grip tightened on her shoulders.

  Astonished she saw there was anger in his face. ‘You told me that your sister had kids – when I first met you.’

  ‘I did?’ He dropped his hands and stared at her for a moment. Then he reached into his hip pocket for a cigarette pack. ‘I’d forgotten that,’ he murmured. ‘Did I tell you about her?’

  ‘What about her?’ She tried not to sound too eager. He had in fact told her practically nothing. But again he fell silent. He shook out the match and dropped it into the roses below. ‘I’ll get the lemonade,’ he said briskly and he strode into the house leaving Kim staring after him, nonplussed.

  She heard the tap of May Bernstein’s heels on the polished floor of the dining room inside the shuttered windows. The windows were open inside the shutters, leaving the room beyond comparatively cool in the dim light. It crossed Kim’s mind briefly that the woman had been eavesdropping but she shrugged. What if she had? She had to know the truth – that Kim wanted a career. And what business was it of hers anyway? Fel’s yes. May Bernstein’s – never.

  She held the already drooping roses to her chin and sniffed them sadly. What if she did have to choose? Career or marriage? Which would it be?

  She knew she could sing. Professor Bertolini had himself suggested she take lessons both from himself and at the music college. But what if after that she failed? No one could guarantee success. Would it not be better to choose marriage to the man she loved and who would give her a home and security and love?

  It wasn’t the fact of her working Fel hated. She worked now. It was more than that. He knew that music could become a rival if she were good; it could take over her whole life. And it was that which might threaten their marriage.

  ‘And I am good.’ To her embarrassment she found she had spoken out loud. She listened, but there was no sound from behind the shutters and then she heard Fel’s voice from the depths of the house. ‘Is that you, Ma? Come and have a glass of your lemonade. We’re on the porch.’

  They came together, their footsteps echoing on the polished wood floors and Kim heard May Bernstein’s rather petulant voice quite clearly, echoing a little as they crossed out of the kitchen into the hall.

  ‘That was Penny on the phone. Imagine! Suddenly she wants to know me again after all these years. And why? Because she wants help with those kids! And I told her. I can’t have them. I can’t Fel, can I? At my age? What would I do with two kids?’

  ‘Ma, you’d love them.’ Fel sounded distinctly uneasy.

  ‘So? And they’d kill me! Why the hell can’t his family take them? That’s what I say!’

  The screen door clattered open as Fel pushed through with the tray. On it were three tall frosted glasses and a jug of lemonade.

  May Bernstein was behind him. She was a short, stout woman with hair unnaturally dark for someone her age, aggressively waved. Her face had heavy features which lightened into charm only when she smiled.

  She smiled when she saw Kim. ‘My dear, but it’s so hot. I’m glad you stopped playing tennis. Have a drink. Fel, give the girl a drink, she’s wilting.’

  Fel had already poured out a glass. Tiny pieces of lemon pith floated in the cloudy liquid.

  Kim took it gratefully and began to sip, the ice balls banging against her lips.

  ‘What does Kim think I should do?’ May asked suddenly. She sat down heavily on a chair and held out her hand to Fel for a glass.

  ‘I haven’t told her,’ he said unhappily. ‘I didn’t want to burden her with family problems.’

  ‘And isn’t she family now?’ May looked indignantly at Kim. ‘You want to know, don’t you?’

  Kim nodded, dying of curiosity.

  ‘Well, I’ll tell you. My daughter left her beautiful home the first chance she got to go and live with a no good, weak-kneed drop-out of a man. Not marry mind you. Just live. And he’s paid her back by going off and leaving her, dumping his two kids on her. That’s all. And now she comes crawling home and she wants me to take the kids.’

  Kim looked bewildered. ‘You mean they’re not hers?’

  ‘That’s right.’ May’s lips tightened imperceptibly. ‘Their mother was a black girl.’

  ‘And she can’t have them?’

  ‘She’s dead, Kim,’ Fel interrupted gently. ‘The story is terribly complicated, but if Ma insists on dragging you in you may as well get it right.’ He shot his mother a challenging look. ‘Penny met Brad years and years ago, before she left here actually, and they had something really good going for quite a long time. Then things went a bit wrong. She went to Europe to work for a couple of years and when she came back she found he had married Val and they already had two babies. But she was very ill and the younger child was barely two when she died. She had no family to help and Brad turned back to Penny and of course she took on all three of them. But he started going to pieces. It was hell for Penny. All she heard about was his lovely dead wife and how he missed her. He never seemed to realise how much Penny loved him and how much he hurt her by talking about someone else all the time. Anyway, to cut a long story short he began to leave her – and the kids – for longer and longer intervals. He didn’t seem to be able to bear the kids near him – I suppose they reminded him too much of Valentine. Then about six months ago he left. And he left a note saying that Penny could keep the children or put them in a home, he didn’t much care.’

  ‘But that’s awful!’ Kim stared from one to the other, appalled.

  May opened her mouth to say something, but Fel got in first. ‘It sure is. Penny is at her wits’ end. She’s got a chance to go back to her old job and she’s due to go abroad again soon; she loves the kids but she can’t afford them or look after them on her own.’

  ‘But can’t the law make him –’

  ‘She doesn’t know where he is. Of course they could track him down, but meanwhile what happens to those two mites?’

  ‘And she wants me to have them!’ May tipped the last of her lemonade down her throat.

  ‘Can’t you?’ Kim couldn’t stop herself glancing at the big garden, thinking of the empty, echoing house behind them.

  ‘Nope. I’m not sentimental and I’m not well. You can’t hand over two children to someone, like two puppies and say, “Here, you have these, I don’t want them any more.”’

  Kim bit her lip. ‘How old are they?’

  ‘Four and five.’ Fel’s voice was abrupt. ‘Hadn’t you better go and take a shower and change, Kim? If we’re going to eat before we leave we’ll have to hurry.’

  She glanced from mother to son and nodded slowly. Fel’s face was dark with disapproval and his mother’s had become stubborn and malicious as her gaze came to rest on Kim’s face.

  With a sudden shiver Kim set down her glass. ‘I’ll see you later, when I’ve changed,’ she said, and she turned and went into the house.

  The water was like ice cold needles on her skin. She stood under it for several minutes feeling it beating on her closed eyelids, dragging her hair back from her forehead and cascading across her shoul
ders. Why doesn’t Fel try to persuade his mother to take them, she thought as she reached for the soap. God, I hope he doesn’t feel we ought to offer.

  The thought was still with her later as they drove back through the evening traffic towards the city. She glanced sideways at his face. He was humming gently with the car radio apparently concentrating on the traffic.

  ‘Does Penny want Brad back?’ she asked suddenly, as they drew up at a red light.

  ‘Do you mean does she still love him?’

  Kim nodded.

  ‘I think she does. But she must know it would never work even if he did come back. He’s changed a hell of a lot.’

  ‘You knew him?’

  ‘Oh yes. I introduced them.’

  Kim stared at him. ‘Then for God’s sake, don’t you feel a bit responsible?’

  ‘Why should I? People must work out their own destinies.’ He shrugged.

  ‘Not people of four years old, Fel!’ To her surprise she found her face was flushed with heat.

  ‘No.’ Fel’s voice dropped sadly. ‘And they’re lovely little kids.’

  ‘You’ve met them?’

  ‘Yep. I’ve known them since they were born. I kept in touch with Brad when Penny went away and I met his wife, Valentine. She was a lovely person. They knew she had cancer when they married. That’s why I could never forgive him for letting her have babies. They both knew she wouldn’t be there to look after them. Oh hell, Kim, the whole thing was a mess. She wanted children because that way she felt she could live on through them and of course he wouldn’t refuse her anything. I’ve never told Ma this. As she says, she hasn’t an ounce of sentiment. She wouldn’t even try to understand. Valentine was a jazz singer. She sang like an angel and she told me once that she was sure that her talent would survive in her kids –’

  His voice cracked as he spoke and Kim looked at him sharply. He was staring straight ahead, his knuckles white on the steering wheel.

  She was silent for a moment.

  She understood. She knew how Valentine had felt. She would have felt the same and suddenly she knew what her own choice would have to be if it ever came to it. And the winner would not be Fel. She closed her eyes tight and rested her head against the back of the seat.