A Remembered Serenade

by Mary Burchell

  'Yes, you should.' She was instantly contrite. 'I ought to have remembered that you've had a beast of a day. And I'm terribly glad you took me out tonight. I wouldn't have missed this for anything.'

  'Really?' And when she nodded, he said, 'You're a nice child.' And then suddenly he smothered an irrepresible yawn.

  'You're dead tired,' she exclaimed. 'And no wonder. We'd better go now.'

  'Don't you want coffee first?'

  'No, thank you. And nor do you. You'll sleep better without it, and sleep is what you want.'

  He looked for a moment as though he might make some amused protest. But then weariness seemed to wash over him like a wave, and he murmured, 'If you're sure you don't mind.'

  'I don't mind anything, so long as you won't think I would try to muscle in on the Warrenders' week-end at your uncle's place.'

  'Forget it,' he said impatiently. Then he called for the bill and, having paid it, followed her out of the restaurant into the street.

  'Drive carefully,' she said, lightly touching his arm, 'and thank you for a lovely, lovely evening.'

  'I'm taking you home first.'

  'Indeed you're not.' She smiled up at him, 'You ought to be in bed now. And I'm getting this bus that's just coming along. It passes the end of my road.'

  'You're sure?'

  'Of course I'm sure.' She swung herself on to the platform of the bus, then waved and called back over her shoulder, 'Thank you again, and good luck for Wednesday!'

  She saw, as the bus swung round a corner, that he was still looking after her, with a smile that somehow warmed her heart.

  'I can't believe it all!' she told herself as she made her way to the front seat in the bus. 'I just can't believe it. Oh, I do hope Mother's still up. I just have to tell someone all about it!'

  Fortunately, her mother was indeed up. In fact, she came running into the hall as Joanna opened the front door, and it was she who first began to pour out an excited tale.

  'Joanna, the most wonderful thing! You'll never be­lieve it. Mr. Wilmore telephoned about an hour ago. What a nice man. A gentleman, as Georgina said. He wanted to speak to you—'

  'To me? What about?'

  'Well, I'm just telling you, dear, if you'll let me finish. I explained that you were out, of course, and he asked me to give you a message. He wants you to go down there the week-end after next—'

  'Oh, no!' There was more dismay than pleasure in Joanna's tone.

  'Wait a minute, that isn't all. He says the Warrenders will be there and he would like you to meet them—'

  'I've met them,' said Joanna dazedly.

  'Don't be silly, dear! Of course you haven't. I'm speaking of Sir Oscar Warrender and his wife—'

  'So am I,' murmured Joanna, but her mother went on. 'He said if it was not convenient for your aunt to have you he would be delighted for you to stay at the Manor. So I said immediately that I knew your aunt would be away—'

  'But she won't.' Joanna looked bewildered.

  'No, of course she won't. But I said she would. You don't suppose I was going to let you miss a chance like that, do you? You'll be staying at Wilmore Manor at the same time as the Warrenders - think of that! No one would believe that things could fall out just that way, would they?'

  CHAPTER THREE

  Joanna gazed at her mother in open dismay. As Mrs. Ransome had just said, no one would believe - least of all Elliot Cheam - that 'things could fall out just that way.'

  'I can't go, Mother,' she said rather distractedly.

  ' Can't go?' Her mother looked both astonished and annoyed. 'Of course you can go. It's the chance of a lifetime. What were you going to do the week-end after ' next that cannot be put off, for goodness' sake?'

  'Nothing. At least, nothing I can remember.' Joanna pushed back her hair from her forehead with both hands. 'It isn't that. It's - oh, let me explain—'

  'Well, come in and sit down first. I was so excited I just had to rush out to tell you at once. And now you're behaving as though I'd given you bad news. I don't understand you, Joanna. You never used to be tem­peramental and difficult. Being given this important role hasn't gone to your head, I hope.'

  'No - no, of course not,' Joanna followed her mother into the dining-room, where she was oddly touched to see a vacuum jug of hot chocolate and a cup and saucer standing at the end of the table.

  'I thought you might like a hot drink.' Her mother indicated the jug a little timidly, as though her daugh­ter had suddenly become so unpredictable that she might resent, rather than welcome, the attention.

  'Oh, Mother, how sweet of you!' Joanna smiled gratefully. At which her mother's face cleared and she looked like a child who was beginning to think that everything might be all right, after all.

  'Now tell me.' Mrs. Ransome sat back in her chair, an eager expression on her face. 'First of all, was it a good evening?'

  'Lovely, thank you.'

  'Even though you had to go with that horrid young man?'

  'He's not a horrid young man. And anyway, he had already given me one delightful treat.' She explained about being unexpectedly invited in to the dress re­hearsal, and how this had presently led to her being asked out to dinner.

  'Well, I suppose you couldn't refuse when he'd already been nice to you,' her mother conceded.

  'I didn't want to refuse.' Joanna was a little surprised to remember how eager she had been, on the contrary, to accept. 'We were getting on splendidly by then. He took me to a perfectly charming restaurant, and we were just enjoying our meal when - I know it sounds improbable - in came the Warrenders.'

  'Then you have met them? I thought you were making some kind of joke.'

  'No, I meant it literally. They came over to our table and Elliot - Mr. Cheam - introduced me and they were both very pleasant to me.'

  'Darling, what a delightful coincidence!' Mrs. Ran­some was enchanted. That you actually know them already! They'll be so pleased to find you too are stay­ing at the Manor, I thought you meant—'

  'Just a moment, it's not so simple as that,' Joanna insisted. 'They said - that is Sir Oscar said - that they were going down to stay with Elliot's uncle the week­end after next, and asked if he too would be there. Elliot explained he would be too much tied up with his new production and—'

  'What a pity you didn't already know you'd been invited. If you'd been able to announce that in fact you would be there it would have caused quite a sensation,' I declared Mrs. Ransome.

  'Yes, it would have caused no end of a sensation,' Joanna agreed rather grimly. 'Elliot would have been furious.'

  'Why? Just because he couldn't go too? What a dog in the manger! He's just as unpleasant as I thought, after all.'

  'No, he isn't. He's nice' Joanna stated firmly. 'But as I told you before, he has the idea that people try to impose on his uncle - to cadge things from him - be­cause he's so naturally kind and easy-going. Oh, he's a bit exaggerated about it, I suppose. In fact, of course he is. But it all stems from a genuine wish to protect some­one he's very fond of.'

  'I call that silly,' her mother replied impatiently.

  'Why not leave his uncle to look after himself? He's a grown man, isn't he? Not like a woman left all on her own.' And Mrs. Ransome glanced instinctively at her own pretty reflection in the mirror opposite her.

  Joanna abandoned any further academic discussion on this point and went on determinedly with her story.

  'When the Warrenders had gone to their table we naturally spoke a few words about them, and I asked if they knew his uncle well. He immediately looked with drawn and suspicious—'

  'I said he was unpleasant!' interjected her mother triumphantly.

  '—and asked why I wanted to know. If he hadn't been tired and irritable after a gruelling rehearsal I doubt if he would have reacted quite that way—'

  'Yes, he would. That's the way that kind of man does react.'

  '—but anyway, I snapped back in my turn, I'm afraid—'

  'And quite right too!'


  '—and said he needn't think I was trying to muscle in on the Warrenders' week-end at Wilmore Manor, be­cause such an idea had never entered my head, and I didn't behave that way anyway. He apologized then.'

  'And so he should!' declared her mother, 'And what a slap in the face for him when you do turn up.'

  'But I can't turn up! Don't you see,' said Joanna patiently, 'that's the point? The very fact that I took up such an indignant stand about being unjustly suspected makes this occasion, of all occasions, the one when I just can't go.'

  'But he won't be there.' Her mother looked obsti­nate.

  'How do you know he won't be there?'

  'You've just said he won't,’ With unerring accuracy, Mrs. Ransome dredged up from her daughter's story what she considered to be the one salient point. 'You said he told Sir Oscar he wouldn't be there because he would be busy with this silly play of his.'

  Joanna thought of saying that it was not a silly play - that, in fact, it was quite a brilliant play - but she knew that, in her present mood, her mother was deter­mined to find nothing good in Elliot Cheam and all his works.

  Instead she said slowly, 'It's true he did say he almost certainly couldn't be there. But then he'd be bound to hear about it eventually.'

  'Why? Does that poor old uncle of his have to give him an account of everyone who visits the place?'

  'No, of course not! These things come out in ordinary conversation. And I couldn't bear to have him discover that, after I'd taken up such a virtuous stand about being unjustly suspected, off I went and turned up there after all,'

  'Darling, you are adopting the most ridiculous atti­tude about it all,' exclaimed her mother impatiently. 'Who is this Elliot Cheam, anyway? Why should you bother about his views or let him dictate your actions? The invitation came from Mr. Wilmore to you - for a week-end that might give you the most valuable con­tacts in your career. And you're prepared to throw away this priceless opportunity because you're fright­ened of some disagreeable young man.' 'I'm not frightened of him.'

  'Well, you're behaving exactly as though you were. And what about Mr. Wilmore, come to that? How will he feel if you just throw back his invitation in his face?'

  'I wasn't going to do any such thing,' muttered Joanna protestingly. But she did look rather shaken. For after all, it was, as her mother said, the chance of a lifetime - and so very kindly meant. 'If I could some­how let Elliot Cheam know—' She was still speaking under her breath, but her mother caught her last words.

  'Why?' she demanded scornfully. 'Do you have to ask his permission before you dare to approach his uncle?'

  'No. It's just—' and then Joanna realized that they were back on the same circular track again, and that unless she put an end to the conversation they would continue with argument and counter-argument indefinitely,

  'I can't make a decision at the moment,' she de­clared, drinking the rest of her chocolate and setting down the cup with an air of determination. 'I'm too excited and - and tired - and bewildered with so much happening all at once. I'll have to think things over. If there's any way of accepting this wonderful invitation, I'll do so, of course. But I shall stay with Aunt Georgina. I couldn't possibly stay at the Manor.'

  'It would be perfectly respectable,' said her mother naively. 'With an elderly housekeeper and other guests and all that.'

  'Oh, Mother, you're a darling!' Joanna kissed her and laughed. 'I was not worrying about my repu­tation.'

  'No. You were just worrying about what that tire­some young man might think,' retorted her mother, 'I don't know why he has suddenly become so important to you, Don't get any silly ideas about him, will you? He doesn't sound at all the kind of person I should like you to get fond of.'

  'There isn't the slightest danger of that!' Joanna assured her. 'And anyway, I think he's a good deal involved with Sara Fernie, his leading lady. She's very good in this new play, by the way. You and I must go and see it some time next week. You would enjoy it.'

  'Well—' Mrs. Ransome, who adored the theatre, ob­viously found the prospect attractive, even if it would mean coming under the same roof as the despised Elliot Cheam. 'Let's see first what the reviews are like.'

  And on that she and her daughter bade each other good night and went to their rooms - Joanna at least to sit on the side of her bed in deep thought, divided between the overwhelming temptation to accept Mr. Wilmore's invitation at any cost, and the almost pathological fear of increasing Elliot Cheam's unfair suspicions.

  'There must be a perfectly sensible and civilized way of dealing with it,' she told herself. 'I suppose I could phone him—' But the idea of troubling him with her small concerns when he was so much involved in his own work would be ridiculous. And even more rid­iculous would be the implication that she thought him entitled to be consulted at all. There would be no way of putting it which would not sound as though she thought she needed his permission to go down to Wilmore Manor. And that would be the height of absurd­ity.

  Although she had argued each point in the recent discussion, she had not been unaffected by her mother's viewpoint? And, reflecting quietly now on her own, she did think that perhaps she had been showing an exag­gerated regard for what Elliot Cheam thought or said. After all, he was nothing to her.- At least - almost nothing. Except insofar as one preferred to have the good opinion of anyone one liked and respected - even moderately.

  'I'll work out a plan of action tomorrow,' she de­cided. 'Of course I couldn't miss a chance like this. And anyway, as Mother said, what about Mr. Wilmore's feelings? He might be really hurt if I refused his kind gesture.'

  That thought seemed to weight the scales much more heavily on the side of her doing what she was longing to do. And, on that cheering thought, Joanna went to bed and to sleep.

  Both she and her mother overslept the next morning, and Joanna had no time to do anything but snatch a hasty breakfast and rush off to the Colleges. Here she found that her singing teacher was not only still away but, according to report, likely to be so for some while. Consequently there had to be some change in her scheme of studies. Her singing lessons were, of necess­ity, transferred to another teacher - excellent in his way, but not at all temperamentally in tune with Joanna.

  This made her nervous and strained, for the re­lationship between singing student and teacher is always a very personal and delicately balanced one. And, when she came to a rehearsal of the opera during the afternoon, she was not at all at her best.

  'Nothing like so good as the other day,' the producer told her with a frown, 'What's the matter? Have you been slacking?'

  'A - a little, perhaps,' said Joanna, thinking guiltily of the free day she had enjoyed yesterday.

  'Well, don't,' he advised her grimly, 'It shows.'

  She went home rather chastened, to find her mother still making such happy plans about the proposed week-end that she realized she must take a stand one way or the other. And why should she not go, anyway? She was certainly not feeling in a mood to pass over any chance of learning more about her part and once more confounding the producer with her inner know­ledge !

  'I shall phone Aunt Georgina right away,' she de­clared.

  'Why? I've already arranged for you to stay at Wilmore Manor,' replied her mother plaintively. 'You'll make me look silly if you show that Georgina will be there to put you up, after what I said.'

  'Nothing like so silly as we should both look if we let your story stand and then Mr. Wilmore happened to run into her over that week-end,' retorted Joanna. And she went to the telephone and dialled her aunt's number.

  Mrs. Ransome watched with some anxiety while Joanna talked to Aunt Georgina. Then gradually, as the drift of the conversation began to come clear to her, she smiled and looked rather as a very nice kitten might have looked when a bowl of cream turned over unex­pectedly in front of it.

  'You won't believe it—' Joanna slowly hung up the receiver - 'but Aunt Georgina is going to be away that week-end.'

  'I'm not a bit surprised,'
replied Mrs. Ransome, who had her own very personal brand of superstition. (For instance, she always read What the Stars Foretold, but only believed the bits that promised what she wanted.) 'It is Meant to Be,' she added contentedly.

  'It's nothing of the kind,' replied Joanna rather crossly. But then, as though something stronger than herself impelled her, she picked up the receiver again and dialled the number which Mr. Wilmore had left with her mother.

  Mrs, Trimble's voice answered. But she fetched Mr. Wilmore immediately when she realized who was speaking. And in a few moments Joanna found herself explaining how truly happy she was to accept his in­vitation and that, since her aunt would be away, if he really meant he would like her to stay at Wilmore Manor-He really meant that, it seemed, and he hoped Joanna would come down on the Friday evening.

  'There's just one thing, Mr. Wilmore,' she began. But when his courteous voice said, 'Yes?' she lost her nerve and just added some triviality about not having any very formal evening wear,

  'My dear child, that won't be at all necessary!' he assured her, 'It will be an entirely informal week-end. When the Warrenders come here they like to relax completely. I can't even promise that he will agree to hear you sing, though I have some hopes of persuading him to do so.'

  'Oh - oh, thank you,' gasped Joanna, as fresh vistas of delight and terror opened out before her. Then she rang off and said, breathlessly, to her mother, 'It's all arranged,''

  She worked very hard during the next few days. But she was not entirely happy with her singing lessons, for her substitute teacher showed little interest in her. Indeed, since Martha Singleton, the other Fiora, hap­pened to be his star pupil, it was perhaps under­standable that he found Joanna of secondary importance.

  What did make her very happy was that when the reviews of the new play came out on Thursday morn­ing, they were uniformly good.

  'We must go!' her mother declared, forgetting her hard feelings against Elliot Cheam. And Joanna made it her business to go to the theatre during her lunchtime, where, however, she found a good many others had had the same idea, and there was a long line of people already waiting.