The Golden Thread

by Monica Carly

  Chapter 12

  Finally the day of the ball arrived, and with it an atmosphere of mounting excitement. The weather, as Claudia had hoped, was clear and bright, and the gardens were looking their colourful best. No cloud appeared on the horizon to spoil the fresh beauty of the morning.

  Claudia was expecting Stefano some time in the early afternoon. He would come by train as he thought it might not be advisable to drive back after a night of ‘revelry’, as he put it. He would take a taxi to St Hilda’s College.

  Eagerly anticipating his arrival Claudia was ready in good time. She was not displeased with the reflection she saw in the mirror. Her hair which, most unusually, had benefited from a hairdresser’s skills, was pleasantly curled and shiny. The blue dress, on its hanger, awaiting the evening’s events, looked every bit as elegant as she had hoped. Her fellow students, unused to seeing Claudia at social events, were intrigued to see the man she had invited – especially when she volunteered that he was Italian and extremely handsome.

  When he did arrive the sight of him took her breath away, and all she could think of was one of Maria’s favourite words – amazing. He looked like a film star, and he was carrying a beautiful bouquet of flowers.

  ‘Oh, Stefano! They’re lovely! Thank you very much.’

  ‘Not nearly as lovely as my partner! Claudia, I have never seen you look so beautiful. And I very much look forward to the ball.’

  The evening, with all its promise of magic, was approaching, but first Claudia wanted to show her visitor a little of the glories Oxford had to offer.

  ‘Are you tired after your journey?’ she asked. ‘Could we go for a walk so that I can show you some of the local sights?’

  ‘That would be very good,’ he replied. ‘That I will like, and I will remember all that I see today.’

  They set off from St Hilda’s, and walked over Magdalen Bridge, pausing to look down on the river below where punts lazily made their slow progress through the water.

  ‘Look! Look!’ cried Stefano. ‘Are they not like the gondolas in Venice? Already I feel at home!’

  Continuing along the High Street they passed the glorious tower of Magdalen College and then turned right into Catte Street and Radcliffe Square, where Stefano gazed in awe at the circular, domed building known as the Radcliffe Camera. Claudia showed him the Bodleian Library on the far side of the square. Then she pointed out the University Church of St Mary the Virgin, Brasenose College and All Souls College. Stefano was clearly fascinated by it all. Using her Reader’s Card, she was able to take him up to the Upper Reading Room of the Radcliffe Camera and show him views of Central Oxford.

  ‘There’s one more place I would like to show you, before we go back, as I have a surprise lined up for you a little later this afternoon and we mustn’t be late.’ She took him further down Catte Street where they stood before the two halves of Hertford College and the ornate aerial corridor linking them.

  ‘There you are,’ she said. ‘That should make you feel even more at home. This is known as the Bridge of Sighs! Isn’t it a beautiful piece of architecture?’

  ‘It is lovely, but I think perhaps it resembles not so much the Bridge of Sighs in Venice but more the Rialto Bridge. We have a legend about our Bridge of Sighs, which I will tell you. It is said that lovers will be granted everlasting love and bliss if they kiss on a gondola at sunset under the bridge! But I do not think you could do that here, because there is no water!’

  Laughing, they started to walk back to the college, where Claudia fetched a basket from her room. Then they set off again.

  ‘Let me carry that for you. Oh, it is quite heavy! What is in this mysterious basket?’

  ‘Be patient. You will find out very soon.’

  ‘Where are we going?’ he asked. ‘You will tire me out before the ball starts!’

  ‘I don’t think so. I am going to give you a true Oxford experience.’

  She led him in the direction of the river, and towards the boathouse. He looked at the boats, and saw other students propelling them along in the water with the traditional long pole.

  ‘Is this what we are going to do?’

  ‘Yes. Do you think you can manage?’

  ‘It looks like a gondola, except there is no oar – only that funny long stick. Of course I can do it.’

  The man in charge of the boathouse gave him a quick lesson. He showed him how to hold the pole, and feed it through his hands.

  ‘Don’t forget to pull it out of the water before your hands reach the end or you’ll be in trouble. If you can’t get it out in time, let go, or you’ll end up in the drink as well! There’s a paddle in the punt for emergencies so you can always go back for it, if you do lose it.’

  In no time at all Stefano had mastered the technique and they set off, slowly winding their way along the river. They passed other punts, and Claudia, lying back in her seat, with plenty of time to appraise those in the passing craft, was in no doubt that she was being propelled along by the most handsome man on the river. She felt like a princess.

  Once they had reached a quiet section, she suggested that he stop, and opening her basket, she produced two glasses, champagne and strawberries.

  ‘I like your Oxford traditions,’ observed Stefano.

  They sat in the punt, the water gently lapping up against the boat, and ate and drank until the contents of the basket were gone.

  ‘Hm,’ murmured Stefano. ‘I feel so happy and the evening has not started yet. Will there be more champagne?’

  ‘Yes, and lots of other things. There will be dancing, of course, and an excellent supper. It’s going to be wonderful. Thank you very much for coming, Stefano. You have made an unforgettable ending to my time at Oxford. I shall always remember today.’

  ‘I also, I remember too. I am grateful that you ask me.’

  Today was not the day for correcting errors. She was not in the mood. They returned to the college and she showed him where he could change. At long last she was ready, and as she descended the staircase she saw him waiting for her in the hall below. Again a thrill of pride shot through her – in his evening dress he looked unbelievably handsome. What had she done to deserve an evening of such heady delight? He received her with Italian gallantry, bowing and kissing her hand.

  They passed through the hall to the spot where the college principal stood waiting to receive guests. Claudia presented Stefano and the principal held out her hand stiffly. On hearing the name of Claudia’s guest she asked politely, ‘Will you be in this country long, Mr Volpe?’

  Stefano did not release her hand. Bowing slightly, he looked her straight in the eyes, his face lit up by his irresistible smile. ‘I am here for two months only, thank you. And in this time Claudia has been so kind as to give me English lessons. But soon I come back to live in your lovely country.’

  Finally he released the hand, and the principal, a woman of renowned scholarly attributes and usually impervious to masculine charm, was actually blushing slightly, a warm glow diffusing her cheeks.

  Claudia and Stefano danced, they talked, they frequently sipped their drinks, and they danced again. The music became slower and dreamier. In the small hours of the morning they walked arm-in-arm round the garden.

  ‘Are you tired now?’ he asked.

  ‘Oh no, I could go on for hours and hours. I don’t want it ever to stop.’ She smiled up at him, her eyes shining.

  ‘Let’s go for a walk,’ he said and there was a note of urgency in his voice. ‘I wish to walk beside that river.’

  Claudia would have done anything he suggested. They set off, leaving behind the lively sounds of music and laughter, into the sharply contrasting quiet of the Cherwell river bank. The only sounds were the soft rustling of leaves and grass, disturbed by a light breeze. The trees swayed gently against a background of silvery light, as if they too had drunk of the evening’s champagne. The two young people strolled in the moonlight along the river path, arms round
each other’s waists. Under a dark, overhanging tree he drew her close, and kissed her.

  ‘Maybe we are not under that bridge, but tonight, bella Claudia, you are very, very beautiful, and I must kiss you,’ he whispered.

  ‘Oh, Stefano.’ There could be no mistaking his meaning. Racing emotions overwhelmed her, as they slid down to the grassy ground, where she gave herself up to an unfamiliar world of sensations.

  Afterwards he held her tight, kissing her hair, and murmuring how lovely she was. Idly she wondered what had happened to her blue dress, and the thought that this was how the original damage had occurred made her giggle. She was intoxicated, partly with wine, but mostly with love.

  Stefano was still speaking. ‘You will make very marvellous wife,’ he said. ‘Would you like to marry?’

  Sleepily she responded, ‘Yes please, darling, darling Stefano. Oh, yes, please.’

  ‘And then you make babies, doublequick, one, two, three, four – maybe five!’

  Claudia was just awake enough to object to this. ‘Not yet, my dearest, not yet. I have worked so hard, I must establish my teaching career first. Plenty of time for babies later.’

  Her head was resting against his shoulder, and sleep was overtaking her. She did not see his expression change.

  ‘I think, one day, you will make very lovely wife,’ he said, ‘for some lucky man.’

  But Claudia was asleep.

  Chapter 13

  The dream-like state Claudia now found herself in was not the best preparation for her Finals. She longed to give Maria a full account of the ball, and tell her what a wonderful partner Stefano had been. She longed to boast about the envious glances she had received from the other girls, and how even the principal had been impressed. Whether it was amazement that Claudia had produced a partner at all, or whether it was the shock of those film star looks, was difficult to tell. It had certainly been a moment of triumph.

  There had been no time to write a long letter home. Better to keep her memories safely stored in her mind and wait until she saw her sister. Claudia savoured the pleasure of describing in rapturous detail all they had done during that unbelievable twenty-four hours. Well, perhaps not quite all. The last part she might skate over a little. That was something private between the two of them – something to hold in a very special place in her heart. Some things were too deep for sharing, even with Maria.

  She began to apply herself to her revision. She must now make up for lost time and plan precisely how long she could afford to devote to each topic. She concentrated hard, and spent long hours at her studies, scarcely speaking to her fellow students. She knew she must be single-minded if she was to fulfil her potential. All her efforts, her hours of dedication to her work over the last three years, were about to be put to the test. If she could perform to the best of her ability she would have the distinction of being marked out for the rest of her life as an outstanding student of mathematics, and this would have a lasting effect on her career. She closed her mind to all distractions and gave herself to this vital undertaking.

  There was, however, one diversion she could not ignore. A letter arrived in that now familiar script. She tore it open – and then wished she’d taken more care to preserve the envelope. It was fairly short, but it expressed Stefano’s gratitude for the honour she had done him of inviting him to accompany her to the ball, and for giving him the opportunity to make Oxford’s acquaintance. He said he had loved seeing the architecture of the marvellous old buildings, declared that the river was beautiful and said he thought he had done the punting very well, like a native! Then he mentioned Claudia, saying how lovely she had looked and how much he had enjoyed dancing with her. He wished her well in her exams, told her that he would soon be returning to Italy for a short time, and signed himself ‘your grateful and affectionate friend Stefano’.

  A sharp pang of disappointment pierced Claudia’s soul as she read the letter. Where was the warmth and affection she felt she had a right to expect? She would almost rather he hadn’t written, so that she could have gone on cherishing the glow that had been inside her ever since the ball. Then she reminded herself that English was not his first language. He probably could not express his thoughts on paper as naturally as he could in speech. Yes, that was it. Feeling better, she put the letter away and returned to her studies. This did not prove as easy as she had hoped, as images kept flashing before her, and she had to deal with them firmly. In the end she managed to discipline the unruly part of her mind that wanted to linger on dark, wavy hair and warm kisses. That was a disruption to her concentration which she must subdue. Eventually she succeeded in doing so.

  At last the day dawned when her Finals were to begin. She went into the exam room and found that her first paper was exactly as she had anticipated. When she got up to go three hours later she knew she had completed it satisfactorily. This helped her confidence and as she faced each successive paper it was with the knowledge that she was dealing adequately with the demands being made on her.

  At last they were over, and so was her life in Oxford. All that remained was the waiting period before she would receive her results. She packed all her belongings, said goodbye to her fellow students, and left for home. Her heart lifted as she put her key into the front door. It was a Saturday so she knew her father would make a point of being at home to welcome her.

  She opened the front door and called out, ‘Hello, Dad!’

  Hugh came hurrying into the hall to embrace her.

  ‘Good to see you back. Well, how did it all go?’

  ‘As well as I could have hoped, thanks. I don’t think there were any major problems. Where’s Maria? Is she at work? When do you think she’ll be home?’

  There was a silence. Hugh hesitated, and she realised he was looking strained.

  ‘What is it?’ she asked. ‘What’s wrong?’

  ‘Come and sit down.’

  Then he told her the news. Maria was not going to be coming home. Maria had gone. She and Stefano had been married, very hurriedly, without telling anyone, and left for Italy where they would have a honeymoon, and then go to visit his family. Stefano had asked Hugh for permission to marry his daughter, but Hugh said he would not have agreed if he had known they were going to do it so quickly and secretively.

  ‘After all,’ said Hugh, ‘I know how much you would have loved to be at your sister’s wedding. You and I would both have liked to witness her marriage to Stefano and I can’t say how sorry I am she has done us both out of that pleasure.’

  Claudia felt as though her chest would burst as the strength of her emotions threatened to overwhelm her. She did not reply.

  Hugh went on, ‘I’m surprised at Maria. And I must say, I’m rather disappointed in her.’

  ‘So am I,’ replied Claudia, thinking that was probably the understatement of her life.

  Chapter 14

  ‘How are you getting on with your job applications?’

  Hugh meant well with his questions, unaware that they only exacerbated his daughter’s suffering. Just at the moment, Claudia found herself unable to contemplate presenting herself at interviews and talking enthusiastically about the delights of opening young minds to the joys of mathematics.

  She cursed herself for a fool for believing that Stefano would ever think of marrying her. She berated herself for allowing his sudden change of heart to drain her of all self-confidence. What difference had it actually made to her life? If you took that one day away, nothing had changed. She was now ready to proceed down the path that she had always planned out for herself. It was just that, for some inexplicable reason, it no longer held the same attractions for her.

  Claudia was forced to admit to herself that the world had suddenly become a very different place. Her state of mind was the antithesis of the euphoria she had experienced throughout the day and night of the ball. Then she had been dancing on air, her spirits rising as she exhilarated in the joy and thrill of every moment. Now she fel
t weighed down by a burden that would not move. Each new dawn was a living nightmare, the struggle to get out of bed each morning growing worse day by day.

  She went through the motions of living like an automaton. There was her immediate future that must be faced – she had to find a job. She compiled her CV, writing in the line requiring final examination results: ‘Not yet available – anticipated result based on previous examinations: 1st or good 2nd Class Honours’. She bought a Times Educational Supplement and scanned the columns for vacancies for maths teachers in the autumn term. Finding three in the locality near home, she sent for the application forms. When these arrived she sat down and painstakingly completed them, sending an accompanying letter stating why it had always been her objective to follow a career in education, specialising in teaching maths. She spoke of the pleasure to be gained from leading young minds through the processes of mathematics, helping them to reason problems out for themselves. She ended with the hope that each school would look on her application favourably, and then posted the necessary papers.

  Before long she had been offered interviews by all three schools. She accepted, attended on the appropriate dates, on each occasion doing her best to persuade the interviewing panel that she possessed the qualities they sought. She hoped she was sufficiently convincing for them not to be aware of the layer of inertia just below the surface.

  Believing maths teachers were in short supply she had decided not to delay her entry into the profession by taking a teaching qualification. Perhaps she had been overconfident – but she felt she knew instinctively how to put things across, and didn’t think she needed to waste a whole year being told how to do it. It seemed she had convinced the interview panel that she was capable as she was offered two of the three jobs. Mechanically she wrote her letter of acceptance to the school that was nearer to her home. Without any enthusiasm, she forced herself to read the curriculum, and start some lesson plans.