by Mary Wood
‘But you are a violinist, not an accountant! It’s so sad that you can’t find a position with an orchestra.’
‘There is a possibility; a friend I studied with is thinking of forming his own orchestra and he mentioned you; he knows you are a pianist. It would just be part-time for a while – well, mainly rehearsing of course – but he has a backer, so there would be a small payment for each musician. He plans to stage concerts, so there’s a chance we could gain popularity. I’m very excited about it, but I wasn’t going to say anything until after the baby is born, as you have enough to think about.’
‘Oh, that would be wonderful . . . Ooh!’
‘What is it, darling? Flora! Oh dear, what shall I do?’
As Flora clung to the railings of a house, pain clutched her like a vice, but she couldn’t help but smile as the usually calm Cyrus began to flap and panic.
‘I’ll run for a cab . . . but, no . . . I – I can’t leave you. Oh, Flora, why did you even think of coming out of the house?’
‘Free spirit, darling. No new baby was going to keep me from seeing my first child take the next step of her life. There, the pain has subsided and we’re nearly home. As soon as we get there, run for Rowena – she’s standing by, ready to help.’
‘Not the doctor?’
‘No, you goose, he’ll charge the earth and make a huge fuss. We women can sort this out. Don’t worry, darling.’
A week later, with their son sleeping peacefully in his cot, having arrived in the world, kicking and screaming, just an hour after they had reached home, Cyrus’s mother arrived.
Just a short time in her company explained to Flora how it was that Cyrus was so beautiful to look at, as well as being a beautiful person, because his mother was both of those things. Tall and slender, she was the picture of elegance, from her dark hair with hints of silver strands running through it, which she wore rolled back from her face with a centre parting, to her dainty feet, encased in slipper-type shoes that matched whatever she wore. On this September afternoon a pink frock fitted her shapely figure, and a flowing chiffon over-dress floated around her, giving the impression of a butterfly.
As they sat in the garden together, Flora felt dowdy in comparison, as her tummy hadn’t reduced much with the birth, and she’d had to wear one of the shifts that Rowena had made for her to wear during her confinement.
But then, better that than her nightdress, as should have been the case, because she really should be in bed, according to convention. New mothers were meant to stay bedridden for at least ten days. But thank goodness Olivia – as her mother-in-law had asked Flora to call her – did not stand on convention. She’d swept into Flora’s bedroom an hour ago with a bowl of hot water. ‘Up you get. Fresh air will do you more good than a stuffy bed, my dear. Wash yourself and dress, and I’ll get tea ready. We’ll be really naughty and sit in the garden.’
Flora ventured downstairs shortly afterwards.
‘That’s better. I haven’t seen you dressed before, and you look lovely, my dear. And don’t worry. I’ll keep popping in to take a peek at Frederick. Lovely name. Cyrus told me you called the baby after your brother, and that he will be known as Freddy. Poor Freddy: was he your only brother, dear? Are your parents still alive?’
‘Oh, Cyrus hasn’t told you?’
‘I asked him about you and your family, but mysteriously he said that I must ask you?’
‘Well, my story is a little strange, and he probably thought I should tell you what I want you to know. But I don’t mind you knowing. I think it best not to have any secrets. Freddy was my half-brother, born of an affair my father had . . .’
Olivia didn’t interrupt or react in any way; it was as if the way Flora’s father carried on was normal behaviour to her.
‘Anyway, it appears that my nanny wasn’t the only one my father was unfaithful with. He had an affair and another son, whom I’ve never met. When my mother found out, which must have been when that son was a few years old, as he is apparently older than my eldest brother, my father tried to make up to Mother, and I was the result . . .’
By the time Flora had finished her story, tears were running down her face. She hadn’t realized she still cared so much.
‘I’m sorry. But, well, I – I need to know something. You say that your brother runs a mill in the North and is afraid of losing it. This may seem a strange question, but are the shops your father runs haberdashery shops?’
‘Yes, do you know him?’
Olivia had turned deathly white and her hand shook as she put her cup down, almost missing the saucer, causing the high-pitched sound of china against china.
‘Are you all right, Olivia? Are you not feeling well?’
‘I – I . . . Oh dear, I think I’ve had too much sun.’ Taking a lace hanky from her sleeve, she dabbed at her eyes.
She’s crying! Olivia’s crying, but why? For some reason, Flora felt fear clench her. ‘Shall we go inside? It’s cooler in the front room, as it doesn’t get the sun.’
When Olivia stood, it was as if she had shrunk and aged. She had the look of someone who’d suffered a shock.
‘Let me help you, Olivia, hold on to my arm.’
Before Flora could take the outstretched arm, Olivia bent forward and was sick. ‘Oh dear. Oh, I’m sorry. How disgusting of me.’
‘No, you’re not well. You couldn’t help it. And nothing like that embarrasses me. I was nursing for a couple of years, remember? Now, hold my arm and let’s get inside, where it is cooler.’
The fear wouldn’t leave Flora as she settled Olivia in an easy chair and went to fetch a glass of water for her. Olivia’s symptoms were those of someone who had been exposed to too much sun, but that wasn’t the case. It wasn’t that hot today, and they’d only been outside for a short time. It seemed to be something that had been said that had upset her, but what? Did Olivia know the woman with whom Father had a child? How amazing that would be, as it could lead to her meeting her second half-brother. Maybe even becoming close to him, as she had done Freddy. But dared she ask Olivia? No, I must wait for her to volunteer the information, as I might upset her further.
‘Is that better? Maybe you could put something cooler on, once your legs feel steadier, or perhaps you would like to lie down?’
‘N – no, thank you, my dear. I’ll be all right in a moment.’ Olivia put her head back. More tears seeped out of her closed eyes.
‘Can you tell me what is upsetting you, Olivia? Sometimes it helps to unburden yourself, and I’m a good listener.’
‘Thank you, b – but no, I c – can’t tell you. I’ll be all right. May I have some time alone, my dear?’
‘Of course. Just call up to me if you need me. I feel more tired than I thought I would, so I’ll slip back into bed. I’ll take Freddy with me, so there’s no need to worry. Take all the time you need.’
Once in bed, Flora lay back on her pillow and went over the possibilities of why her story had upset Olivia, because she was sure it was what she’d said. Olivia had become very agitated after she had told her what Father did. It was as if it triggered knowledge in her – something she knew, but didn’t want to. Surely it must be that she knows who Father’s mistress is? But how do I ask her, without appearing very rude and intrusive?
There wasn’t a chance to talk the incident over with Cyrus until they were in bed. It was he who brought up the subject of his mother not looking well.
‘I think telling her about my family upset her.’ Flora related what had happened.
‘But why? Why should Mother be upset? I mean, any kind and caring person, as she is, would feel compassion for you, but to the extent of crying and actually being sick! I’ll have to talk to her about it. There must be something in what you said that worried her.’
‘It happened when she asked a little more about Father, and what his work was.’
‘This just isn’t like her. What on earth can be troubling her?’
‘Whatever it is, we need to give her
time. We want to help her, but clearly we can’t yet. I’m sure she will come to us when she can. Let’s not worry her any further, but carry on as if nothing has happened, until she feels she can talk to us.’
‘You’re right, darling. Yes, we’ll arrange a nice evening for her tomorrow tonight. We’ll have a good dinner, and then you and I can play for her. I want to practise something with you that I have written for the piano and violin. I have to go for a second interview at the bank tomorrow, which sounds hopeful, and thought you might find time to read the score and maybe have a little practice of it?’
‘Oh, the one I have heard you tinkering with? It sounded lovely. I will, I’ll spend some time on it. Clever you. I wish I could write for the violin. I have so many pieces for the piano.’
‘We’ll take a look at them one day, darling, and see if I can adapt them. Now, no more talk, I need to snuggle up to you. If I’m going to present my best tomorrow, then I have to get to sleep. And you, darling, are still in recovery, after giving me my wonderful son. And it will soon be his night-feed time, at this rate.’
His kiss awoke in her feelings she didn’t think she would feel this soon after giving birth, but she suppressed them. She could hear in Cyrus’s voice how tired he was.
Sleep didn’t come to Flora for a long time, as her mind went over possibilities. It even occurred to her that Olivia might be one of her father’s conquests; but no, if that was so, then Cyrus would have thought of the possibility. In any case, Olivia didn’t seem like the kind of woman who would have affairs. Why should she? She had been widowed for many years and could have remarried, but hadn’t done. It was all a mystery, but the most likely answer was that Olivia knew Father’s mistress. What an exciting prospect that was!
Although Cyrus tried to get Olivia to tell him what was troubling her, she wouldn’t. She only said that she needed to go away for a couple of days to sort out something very personal to her, which for the moment she couldn’t talk about.
This upset Cyrus, and for some reason further unnerved Flora, but they both knew they had to give Olivia the time she needed. So there was nothing they could do; they could only hope that Olivia felt better once she returned.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
‘Flora, I have a letter from our bank. I’m to go in to speak with the manager.’
Flora looked up from sorting the dirty linen. She’d filled the copper in the corner of the kitchen, set up the mangle and grated the soap in readiness, though she hadn’t relished the task, as she was feeling tired before she’d even begun. Wiping her brow with her arm, she looked up at Cyrus. ‘Oh, what can that be about? We’ve not spent money we don’t have, have we?’
‘I don’t know. We shouldn’t have, but the letter does say, “to discuss your current financial position”. Which sounds ominous.’
‘Oh dear, and we have Christmas upon us and I have put in a large order at the grocer’s, as your mother’s coming.’ Worry flared up in Flora. Yes, money was tight because, apart from the little they both earned teaching music and doing the odd concert with the new orchestra they had helped to form, the only other money coming in was Cyrus’s allowance. But with no rent to pay, they scraped by, especially as Olivia had taken over the payment of Alice’s school fees.
Thinking of Olivia, it still niggled at Flora that they’d never got to the bottom of why she had been so upset that day. She’d insisted that she’d had too much sun, or eaten something that hadn’t agreed with her, and they’d had to leave it at that. But the more Flora pondered over it, the more she was sure that there had been more to it.
Cyrus moved closer to her and put his arm around her. Feeling him close comforted her. She gazed up at him. He looked so much better now, as he’d filled out to his normal weight and was in a good place mentally. His nightmares had lessened, too. But now he had worry lines around his eyes as he frowned. ‘You look peaky, darling, you’re not overdoing it, are you? I’ll always leave what I’m doing to help you.’
‘I know, but I can manage. It’s just . . . well, it’s early days, but I think I may be pregnant again.’
‘So soon? Oh, darling, that’s good news, but do you mind? I mean, Freddy is barely three months old.’
‘No, I’m thrilled. All the children we are blessed with will be welcomed by me, and I know by you, too. I was made to mother your offspring, darling.’
‘Oh, Flora, my darling. I do love you so much. And now I want to show you how much.’
The usual sensations flared up and filled her with his love, as he gently took her breast in his hand. His lips brushed her neck, and she was lost. Taking her hand, he led her to their bedroom. There, they made love in a way that told of their abandonment of everything, no matter that it was morning, and the washing was waiting to be done. No matter that they had worries about money. For this moment in time, there were just the two of them, taking each other to exquisite heights in an outpouring of their love for one another.
As they lay quietly, both exhausted, their hands entwined, Cyrus looked over at Flora. ‘I’m so sorry that I haven’t been able to get employment yet. I really thought I would have got that job I applied for at the bank. It shocked me when they told me that I hadn’t been successful. I’ll make a renewed effort, and work in one of the factories, if need be.’
‘No, my love. I’d never have you doing that. Everything will be all right, I’m sure of it.’
‘I’m not so sure. This notice from the bank reads more like a demand for my presence. I feel something has gone wrong. I’ll pop in there this afternoon and make an appointment. I can only think that it has to do with my allowance, and that maybe the money from the will has run out. I’ve never given much thought to how long it would last; and lately, when I have, I didn’t want to trouble my mother about it. She seems to have enough on her plate. Anyway, if that is so, well, it will force my hand. I will have to find some work.’
‘But your writing is important. And your teaching and composing. As well as the work you do in preparing the concerts – all of that is important to who you are.’
‘I know, but none of it is more important than you and our children.’
Flora had dropped off to sleep in the chair when Cyrus came back from the bank the next afternoon – the first appointment he could get.
The morning had been a busy one for her, and Freddy had been fractious. But her worry wasn’t for him, as it was just a teething problem ailing Freddy, and she’d managed to soothe him and get him to sleep. It was Alice who was worrying her.
Alice had started a cough just over a week ago, and it was getting worse. There had been no soothing her, but eventually she’d dropped off, snuggled under a blanket on the sofa.
Flora had sat down for a few moments, intending to reread the letter she’d had from Mags. It had been addressed to her old address, and the new owners had dropped it off for her.
She’d felt a pang of guilt at not keeping in touch with Mags, but life had taken over. She’d never heard from Ella, but often thought of them both. Reading Mags’s letter had upset her a little, as she was going to marry Harold. Mags and Harold! Somehow Flora couldn’t be happy about it, especially as the letter said that Mags was sorry she couldn’t ask her to the wedding, but hoped they could continue to be friends and write occasionally to each other. It felt as though Mags had crossed over to the other side, though part of what she wrote denied this:
I’m always thinking of you, Flors. And it is jolly beastly the way your family treat you, but no matter how much I badger Harold, he just won’t agree to making things up with you. He says that everything is best left as it is. That you have made a life for yourself, and that’s that. He tells me you have two children now . . .
Just before she’d dropped off, Flora had thought that Cook was a double agent, and then she had smiled. None of it mattered to her now. She had all she needed in life.
‘Oh, did I wake you, darling? Sorry. Are you feeling all right? Is Alice all right?’
�
��Yes, I’m fine. And Alice is asleep. Though I’m hoping for good news from you, darling, as I think Alice needs to see a doctor. How did it go?’
In her heart, she knew. She could see by Cyrus’s face that he was even more worried than he had been before he’d left for the bank.
‘Not well. It was as I thought. The allowance stopped in September, and no one thought to let me know. Several of my cheques have been sent back. One to the grocer, I’m sorry to say. Last month’s account hasn’t been paid. And one to the coal merchant.’
‘Oh no. I’ve orders with them both. What are we going to do?’
Cyrus hung his head. ‘I don’t know. I just don’t know.’
Standing up, Flora went to him. His arms opened and enclosed her, and she could feel his despair.
‘We’ll think of something. There’s things we can sell, and there is the Christmas concert in the church hall – the tickets for that are going really well. And I can go to the pub and ask if I can play there again. I used to go down really well.’
‘If only they liked violin music, I would be there like a shot. But couldn’t you teach me those London songs on the piano? I hate to think of you going out at night.’
‘I don’t see why not, as they are all simple chords. And we’ll come up with more ways of making money, I’m sure. We just need to sort out something for the immediate future, so we can pay the grocer and the coal merchant and receive my orders for Christmas.’
‘I can pawn my watch, and my second violin.’
‘And I have that bracelet you bought me in Brighton.’
‘Oh, Flora, I love you. I’ll make a renewed effort, once Christmas is over, to get employment. Something must come up. I wish now that I hadn’t taken my discharge and had stayed as an officer.’