by Rosie James
Upstairs, Alice re-worded the advertisement, trying to make it sound as attractive as possible, hoping it would interest a suitable person. She sat for a moment, chewing the end of her pen. She had actually been feeling quite jaunty lately, and she knew why. For one thing – the most important thing – she and Sam had been assured by the private specialist they’d visited that there was no reason why they shouldn’t produce children. That they were fit and healthy young people, but that sometimes – for reasons not understood – there could sometimes be a long delay. He’d said that in the past, two of his patients had waited ten years before having children – yet both had gone on to have more than one child, even after that long delay.
And as Alice had listened to him, she’d suddenly remembered what Dora had “read” in Alice’s teacup just before her wedding. That there would a “delay”…nothing serious…just a delay. That morning in the doctor’s rooms, the word had resonated in Alice’s consciousness, and although she knew it was utterly ridiculous to give Dora’s readings even a second’s thought, hearing it spoken by a distinguished medical man had given the word enough gravitas to ease Alice’s mind. To give her hope that she was not going to be the last person on earth carrying the Watts genes. And he had not said that it would never happen, merely that it was a “delay”.
But the other, more important reason for her current lightness of heart was that she was late. Again. Two months had gone by – and she was just into her third. Sam knew, but they’d agreed not to discuss it until they were sure.
And Alice was sure. She felt that cosy, secret feeling inside that she’d been longing to feel…
Perhaps her delay was coming to an end at last. But be patient, be patient, she told herself over and over again…only time will tell.
Chapter Twenty-Five
August 1952
‘I wish you didn’t worry so much about everything, Evie,’ Max said, ‘we’re not exactly committing a cardinal crime, are we…’
‘No, I know,’ Eve said, slipping her hand into Max’s as they left the house to get in the car and drive over to Pulteney Road, ‘it’s just that mother and father have been so…so good about everything…and I hate this feeling that I – that we – are being devious.’
‘Well then, let’s just keep to the house-buying project,’ Max said. ‘Your parents are so interested in that, perhaps we won’t get around to anything else.’
Eve made a face. ‘Max, you know very well that the matter always so close to their hearts is music…performing concerts – theirs and ours,’ Eve said. ‘It’s highly unlikely that the conversation won’t get around to that, and then all I’ll be doing is desperately trying not to let the cat out of the bag.’
‘Well, maybe you should,’ Max said. ‘Come out with it, and see what happens.’
Eve shuddered. ‘No. No, I don’t want to do that,’ she said. ‘I mean, as far as I’m concerned this is going to be a once-only event, and as soon as it’s over that’ll be the end of it. For me, I mean. What you do afterwards, Max, is up to you. My parents are not your keeper.’
Max glanced across at her as they drove through the light traffic towards Eve’s parents’ house. ‘And they’re not yours, either, Evie,’ he said soberly. ‘I realize that the relationship between the three of you has always been…well…very traditional, shall we say – while my parents, when they were alive, never ever put any pressure on me to behave in a way that suited them, rather than me. In fact, to be honest, they didn’t care what I got up to.’ He pulled up slowly as the traffic lights turned red, then – ‘Don’t misunderstand me, Evie – I think your parents are lovely, absolutely lovely…and they have always been very kind to me…but it really is time that you grew away from feeling that everything in your life must be adapted to please them. After all,’ he went on as they drove away again, ‘if we lived away from your home town they’d probably never know – and would never need to know – how we spent our spare time. It’s hardly an illegal activity that needs to be kept secret,’ he added, ‘it’s that you feel they would be upset if they knew about it.’
Eve sighed as she stared out of the passenger window. It was all very well for Max to say all that, but she had grown up in an atmosphere of respecting her mother and father to the extent that she had always striven to please them, and to do everything of which she knew they would approve. And Eve was sure that they would simply not understand this new element of her life…they would not. How could they be expected to, with their distinguished past, their highly thought-of local – and erstwhile national – reputation?
Max glanced across at her and squeezed her hand briefly. ‘Look, Evie…let’s just not mention it at all, darling,’ he said. ‘Let’s keep on talking about our two concerts, and leave it at that. When they’re in the audience at the Pump Room next week it should be enough to satisfy them that their beloved, saintly daughter is staying strictly between accepted lines. And anyway,’ he said, ‘I’ve brought with me the estate agents’ stuff about those houses we looked at last week – that’ll keep them going, won’t it? And actually, later, I could drive the four of us up to Lansdown to see the one we really liked, and ask their opinion. We might not be able to go inside because we haven’t made that arrangement, but at least we could show them the outside to give them some idea of what we’re looking for.’
‘All right,’ Eve said quietly. She knew that Max was speaking sense. She was thirty years old and a married woman, no longer living with her parents. Whatever she did should be up to her now, not to them. But having been an only child to older parents had always meant that she must bear more than the normal share of emotional responsibility for them…that whatever she did, their feelings must come first. Besides which, she loved them both, very much, and wouldn’t do anything to upset them. Eve would never forget those dreadful hours after the Blitz when she’d thought they might have been killed, and that she would never see them again. And they had been so good about Max’s divorce – their acceptance of his situation had exceeded all her hopes and expectations. And they had given her a wonderful wedding day, a day to remember, in spite of the fact that it had been held at a register office.
They arrived at the house and Max pulled the car up slowly outside. Before getting out, he looked across at Eve. ‘Now then – carefully does it. Relax, Evie.’ He smiled at her. ‘D’you know, I just feel it in my bones that we are about to be treated to some of your father’s wonderful scones,’ he said.
That afternoon, Eve’s parents were in a particularly jolly mood, the tea table groaning with all the usual treats, and as Ellen Miles stood to hand around the butterfly fairy cakes for everyone, she said –
‘Now, tell us what’s been going on? It does seem such a long time since we saw you – though you were here a couple of weeks ago, weren’t you?’ She glanced at Eve and Max. ‘How’s the house-hunting going – and have you had any offers for Newbridge, yet, Max?’
Max shook his head. ‘Not serious ones, Mrs. Miles,’ he said. ‘But the agent said it’s only a matter of time…the houses in the area never take long to shift. And we’ve been looking around for something else.’ He drank from his cup. ‘As a matter of fact, there’s a really nice property in Lansdown which we both like – don’t we, Eve? – and wondered if you’d like to drive up with us later to have a look at it.’ He glanced at Eve’s father. ‘I’d be glad of your opinion, Mr. Miles,’ he added.
‘Oh, I should be careful with Lansdown,’ Ellen Miles said warningly. ‘I know it’s a lovely area, but that place has a climate all its own, doesn’t it, Frank?’ She paused, remembering something. ‘You see, Max, we used to visit friends up there at one time, and I always found it jolly cold. They didn’t seem to notice it, but I do remember having to keep my cardigan on – even in warm weather.’
‘I’d certainly like to see the house with you later, Max,’ Frank Miles said, gratified to think his opinion might be of value. No one asked him much about anything any more – in his view, once you
reached a certain age you became invisible – and apparently irrelevant to life in general.
‘There was a rumour that the house at the end of our road was coming up for sale,’ Mrs. Miles said, spreading some butter on her scone, ‘and I tried to find out about it, but it died a natural death, I’m afraid.’ She threw a smile at Eve. ‘Wouldn’t it be lovely, Eve, if you and Max bought that one and came to live just a few doors up? I mean – not right next door, that would be a bit close – but five doors along would have been all right, wouldn’t it? Like old times,’ she added.
Presently, they finished eating, and Eve’s mother stood up. ‘Now – why don’t you two go in and have half an hour on the piano,’ she said. ‘and give us a foretaste of what we’re going to hear next week?’ She started to clear the dishes. ‘You’ve told us what your programme’s going to be – beautiful choice, all of it – and it would be so nice to hear you run through some of it here, as a special family pre-view.’ She smiled at Eve and Max. ‘Are we allowed?’
‘Of course you are,’ Max said, standing up as well, and pushing his chair back in place. ‘We practise all the time without the music, of course,’ he said, ‘ but if we need to borrow a copy of yours, I imagine we’ll have no trouble finding it in your extensive library!’
Doing as they’d been asked, Eve and Max went into the drawing room, and listening from the kitchen, Eve’s parents soon heard the familiar strains of the well-known compositions which they themselves had performed so many times in their careers.
Mrs. Miles stopped what she was doing for a moment. ‘You know, Frank,’ she said slowly, ‘I had a really bad thought just before I went to sleep last night.’
Frank Miles glanced at his wife as she handed him a tea towel. ‘I don’t believe you are capable of a bad thought, my dear,’ he said lightly.
‘Oh but I did have one,’ Ellen said. She paused. ‘You see, what struck me was that if it hadn’t been for the war, Eve and Max wouldn’t be married. It could not have happened, could it? I mean, if Max hadn’t had to go overseas for all that time, his wife wouldn’t have been unfaithful to him and he would still be with her, wouldn’t he? Obviously, he and Eve knew each other well, as colleagues,’ Ellen went on, ‘but that was all. And now to see them both so happy together…so absolutely perfect for each other… I mean – just listen to that. Music, distinguished music, is a privilege to hear – and to perform…it binds people. As you and I know only too well, Frank.’
‘I have to agree with you,’ Frank said, as he added a freshly wiped plate to the pile. ‘And if it had been up to us to choose a man for our daughter, Max would have been top of the list.’
‘But what made me feel guilty just before I went to sleep,’ Ellen said, ‘was that I actually felt pleased that we’d had that war – and that’s awful isn’t it? People lost their lives, and terrible things happened, and all I was thinking was – thank you, Hitler, for the war…thank you for paving the way to make our daughter so happy…so contented. The only thing we’ve ever wanted for her. To be happy.’
And it wasn’t just that, Ellen Miles thought as she finished putting all the crockery back into the cabinet. If it hadn’t been for the war, they would never have met Alice and Fay, nor the lovely Foulkes family…they’d never have been at both those weddings, different occasions, but both so special, so heart-warming. And – something else – would there ever have been the chance for her to use all that material upstairs at last? Because doing all that needlework for Alice had been one of the most fulfilling times in Ellen Miles’s life. She had gloried in the task. And it hadn’t mattered to her at all that the white, bridal gown hadn’t been worn by Eve. In fact, making up the gold brocade had been just as rewarding, just as satisfying, and on the day, their daughter could not have looked lovelier. Her happiness had outshone the dazzling gleam of the fabric.
Not only that, producing those very special garments had inspired Ellen to make her own outfits for the occasions – and she’d also made Eve’s going-away dress and coat. It had been a roller-coaster of happy fulfilment – and, thank goodness, there was still more material for who-ever-knew-what, that might lie in the future. Eve’s mother loved creating beautiful things, and since her music career had long since faded into the past, it seemed that she had been reawakened into producing beautiful clothes, which used to be that other joy in her life.
Ellen sighed at her own thoughts. All those incidents…and co-incidences…
None of them would have taken place at all if it hadn’t been for the war…
Presently, Mr. and Mrs. Miles joined the others in the drawing room. Sitting down on the comfortable sofa opposite the piano, they gazed over at Eve and Max who’d just finished playing.
‘Well, thank you for that,’ Eve’s mother said, ‘they’re going to be wonderful concerts next week. And all fully-booked I think you said, Max?’
Max grinned. ‘Well – partly because of where we work, it’s easy for the word to get around,’ he said easily. ‘Having friends in the trade can be useful! But apart from that, the public loves to come to anything at the Pump Room.’ He glanced at Eve. ‘We’re looking forward to it, aren’t we, Eve?’ Max had taken his place in one of the big armchairs, Eve preferring to crouch down on the rug in front of the ornate fireplace where, today, a huge jug of wild flowers took precedence.
‘Course we’re looking forward to it,’ Eve said lightly.
‘I was just saying to father what a wonderful thing it is that you are both so bound up in music…good music,’ Ellen said. ‘You cannot beat all the time-honoured classics, can you, and everyone loves hearing them, time and time again. I know it takes time to perfect them,’ she went on ‘but what a privilege it is to be able to perform to the standard you’ve both achieved.’ She smiled across at her daughter and son-in-law. ‘And you have got many, many years ahead to go on getting even better…and to increase your repertoire,’ she added.
After a minute, Frank Miles spoke up. ‘What about that little holiday you were hoping to have next month?’ he said. ‘To Spain, I think you said, didn’t you, Max?’
Max nodded. ‘Yes – that’s right. To Barcelona,’ he said, ‘but it’s only for a few days,’ he added casually. ‘And we’re going with a small group of our friends, so it should be fun. We’re looking forward to it, aren’t we, Eve?’
Eve nodded briefly, then – ‘Why don’t we go up to Lansdown in a minute, Max, and show Mother and Father that house? I’d love to know what they think of it.’
Ellen was still thinking about Spain. ‘We did very little performing on the Continent, didn’t we, Frank?’ she said. ‘There was always plenty of work at home! But…Barcelona…what draws you there, Max?’
‘Well…it’s a very interesting place – the capital of Catalonia,’ Max said carefully, ‘full of museums and art galleries – we’ll be able to see works by Picasso and Miro, and there’s a giant basilica which we really must visit – La Sagrada Familia designed by Antoni Gaudi.’
‘How lovely,’ Ellen said, clearly impressed.
‘But of course there’s a lovely beach as well, where we can relax – and the weather is perfect for almost the whole of the year. It’s going to be culture, sun, sea, and sand.’
‘Well, that sounds a perfect place, then,’ Frank Miles said. ‘Something completely different.’ He glanced at Max. ‘How many of you are going?’
‘Ten of us,’ Max replied quickly, glancing down at Eve who had her head down, and sitting with her arms around her bent knees. ‘And I’m sure we’ll be visiting the local tavernas from time to time! Won’t we, Eve?’
Eve suddenly sat up straight and looked across at her parents. ‘We will certainly be doing all that,’ she said, ‘but the main reason we’re going, Mother and Father, is that we’ve been asked to perform at a local venue there, where one of our friends has connections. That’s why we’re going to Barcelona.’
Ellen leaned forward, her eyes sparkling. ‘A concert? You’re going to be performin
g a concert! Where is the venue?’
Eve didn’t hesitate. ‘It’s a taverna, mother, a Spanish public house,’ she said bluntly. ‘Apparently the Spanish love to provide music for their customers while they’re all drinking and eating, especially music they can all join in with.’
‘Yes – but – what sort of concert will you be performing?’ Ellen asked. ‘It doesn’t sound to me as if ours would quite fit with that requirement.’
Eve didn’t look at Max as she replied coolly. ‘No, it wouldn’t fit at all, Mother. What we’ll be providing is a…is a new style of American music…’
Frank sat forward with interest. ‘Go on,’ he said. ‘What’s it all about?’
‘It’s about current, popular music, and a piano doesn’t feature at all,’ Eve said calmly. ‘There will be two guitars – lead and bass – a saxophone, and a set of drums. And a singer. That is the ensemble.’ And before either of her parents could interrupt, she went on – ‘It’ll be amplified – so very noisy – but it’s exciting! And such fun!’ She swallowed. ‘I’m going to be playing the lead guitar – remember me telling you that Max taught me the guitar? Max is the saxophonist, and he is brilliant! And the singer –that’s Rod – he really knows how to put the pieces across!’
There was silence for a few moments, then Frank Miles said – ‘You’ve never mentioned any of this before, Eve…’ and she cut in –
‘Because it hasn’t affected me, Father,’ she said. ‘Max and his friends have been doing this together for a long time…it’s their hobby. I only became involved a couple of months ago because the chap playing the lead guitar has hurt his hand and won’t be in action for ages. And they’ve had this booking in Spain – it’s a friend of one of the group – for many months and didn’t want to cancel it and let them down. So, Max asked me if I would stand in, just this once. And…’ Eve lifted her chin slightly, ‘I thought – why not? Music is evolving all the time, it always has, and always will. And to go abroad with a crowd of friends and have fun…and see somewhere different, do something different…I thought, yes, I will do it. I’m sorry if you think it’s…beneath me…but I won’t be doing anything to be ashamed of – I can promise you that.’