by Bell, Julia
“It’s coming along really well,” she said, ladling a spoonful of porridge into my child’s open mouth. “But I’m not showing anyone until the bride has given her full approval.”
We had already received the invitation, the date set for the sixth of November. Would I be pregnant then? I stopped sponging my neck and thought of the next few weeks ahead of me. Then I tried to dismiss it from my mind. I wouldn’t think about it, I decided, I would do what I had to do and think only of going to the academy. I reached for the towel and placing it round me, stepped out of the bath. Lifting Danny from his chair, I undressed him and put him in the water. He squealed with delight and splashed around.
“He’s a proper little mermaid, isn’t he,” I said, smiling, as I quickly dried myself and pulled on my dressing gown.
“You mean merman,” said Nan. She pushed me out of the kitchen. “You go and get dressed and I’ll see to my nephew.”
I picked up my nightgown and headed for the door, but paused to watch her kneeling by the tub and trickling water over him from the sponge. His giggles followed me up the stairs.
In my room I peeped through the curtains. It was going to be one of those sparkling days that often come at the end of summer and the beginning of autumn. The trees were starting to turn that glorious shade of brown, gold and orange and very soon the leaves would flutter down covering the ground with a carpet that would crunch under my boots. I opened the wardrobe and took out my tangerine dress trimmed with white buttons. It had long sleeves, buttoned at the cuff and I thought it quite a suitable gown to take luncheon in. I brushed my hair and pinned it in a neat bun on the nape of my neck.
By eight-thirty I was ready and downstairs in the hallway, pinning on my hat and slipping my brown pelisse over my shoulders. Soon I was kissing Nan and Danny goodbye and then it was out of the house and to my first lesson. There was a chill in the air and I shivered.
Over the last four days I had come to admire Mrs Holland’s attention to detail regarding my ‘agreed duties’. It seemed that everything had been considered, even my commitments had not been forgotten. I had written the timetable for the next few weeks in my diary, in cryptic form just in case Nan chanced to take a look. I realised that I would have to change some appointments but otherwise there was no great problem with my routine. The time would pass and then I could resume my usual pattern of working. I made my way to Melissa Fleming’s home and after being shown into the parlour by the maid, I waited for my pupil while I lay out the sheet music ready for the lesson.
The lesson was as I expected. Melissa had a high-pitched voice that grated on my nerves, but I gave her some scales to sing and then she flung herself into the ballad Did You Not Hear My Lady with enthusiasm. Melissa always tried her best, something I was eternally grateful for. It was such a shame that her best just wasn’t good enough.
From there, I went to Francis Pelham’s home. Francis was a newly acquired pupil from my recent advertisement in The Times and had a great deal of potential as an opera singer. Although his voice was starting to break, I hoped he would make a wonderful tenor when he was older, if his parents agreed to continue his lessons. He proved to be a joy as he had diligently practised everything I had told him to. The ornamental clock sitting on the mantelpiece told me that I must leave immediately if I was to get to Ealing for twelve-fifteen.
“What do you think of the songs of Gilbert and Sullivan, Mrs Asquith?”
The works of W S Gilbert and Arthur Sullivan had taken London by storm, but as a potential opera singer, I had brushed off their work as ‘trivial’.
“You need to concentrate on the classics, Francis,” I said.
“I think The Mikado is wonderful and I’ve been practising one of the songs. May I sing it for you? I’d really like to know what you think.”
I frowned as I shuffled the sheets of music into a tidy pile and placed them in the pouch. “I really must go. I have an appointment at twelve-fifteen.”
“But that gives you lots of time,” he insisted.
I smiled at how the young have a different perception of time than adults. I sat back down on the piano stool. “Very well. Let me hear you.” He stood up straight and began to sing A Wandering Minstrel I, while I listened carefully and smiled. He was enjoying himself and loved singing every note. At the end I clapped my hands in delight. “Francis, that was wonderful! I think I’ll have to listen to more of your songs next time I come.”
“I’ll practise another one for my next lesson,” he said eagerly.
I left the house in a hurry and was soon on top of the omnibus bound for Ealing. As I travelled, I slipped off my wedding ring and put it in a small velvet bag I had made from some leftover material that Nan had. I then placed it carefully in my music pouch. I had ceased being Mrs Isabelle Asquith and was now Miss Isabelle Pritchard. My heart started beating wildly the nearer I came to my destination.
The little maid showed me in and Mrs Holland met me in the hallway.
“I hope I’m not too late,” I said breathlessly. “My last pupil insisted on giving me a recital.”
“No, my dear. You’re just in time,” she smiled, taking my pelisse and hat and placing the leather pouch on the small table by the hat stand. “Would you like to go into the parlour. Luncheon is nearly ready.”
I opened the door, my mind on when the gentleman would arrive. He would probably leave it until the last possible moment, I thought. But as I entered the room, I stopped abruptly. Standing by the cabinet, that obviously contained alcoholic drinks, was a man, his back to me. He was pouring himself a drink and as I stood there waiting, he slowly turned to face me.
My first impression was that he was smartly dressed in well-cut, good quality clothes. Tall with light brown hair, I realised that he was much younger than I imagined. He must have been in his thirties and that surprised me. Why I thought he would be older I couldn’t understand, since his voice had been that of a young man. I suppose I had assumed that only an older couple would devise such a plan.
He gave a slight bow and crossed the room towards me. “Miss Pritchard, we meet at last,” he said, taking my hand and kissing my fingers.
I inclined my head and tried to smile. “I’m pleased to meet you, although you have the advantage of me regarding names.”
He also smiled and it was pleasant to see. I saw that his eyes were almost turquoise in colour and quite outstanding especially when he did smile, since then they seemed to light up.
“I was thinking about that and I wondered if I could call you Isabelle? It seems so formal to call you Miss Pritchard. And you may call me Karl if you wish.”
“Karl? Is that your name?”
He shook his head. “No, but at least it’s a name.”
“Then I shall call you Karl,” I murmured.
“Would you like a drink?” he asked, gesturing towards the cabinet.
“A sherry would be nice.” He poured one and passed it to me. I sipped a bit and then said, “Have you travelled far?” He didn’t answer. “Oh dear, I suppose I can’t ask you questions like that.”
“I’m afraid not.”
“And yet you know such a lot about me.”
He held his glass of brandy against the front of his waistcoat and studied me. “I know you are twenty years old. You were born in Wales and you lost your mother when you were fourteen. Your father was a mine owner and was killed in a tragic accident. I know you teach music for a living, but…”
“But?”
“I know nothing else about you.”
“You know enough.”
“Those are only the bare facts. I don’t know the important things. What you like or dislike. What interests you have. What your dreams and desires are. I don’t know what makes Isabelle Pritchard the person she is.”
“Would you like to know?”
“Yes, I would.”
“Why?”
“Because I feel it’s important to know as much as I can about the mother of my child.” I turned my
head away, aware that a scarlet flush had spread into my cheeks. “Does that embarrass you? I’m sorry. I don’t want to make you feel uncomfortable.”
I glanced back at him and took in a breath, trying to steady my palpitating heart. “Well, you have the time to discover all you can about me.”
Mrs Holland appeared to tell us that luncheon was being served.
“Shall we go into the dining room,” he said, offering his arm. “Perhaps after we’ve eaten you’ll sing for me.”
I threw back my head and laughed. “Not in a million years.”
The meal was very pleasant, sitting in Mrs Holland’s beige dining room and ‘Karl’ proved to be quite interesting. We talked about everything, but tried to keep away from anything personal. Politics, religion and science were discussed, but then we came to the arts.
“Do you like the theatre?” he asked, as he poured me another glass of wine.
“Yes,” I said slowly. “Although I don’t go often.”
“I went to the Lyceum last week to see Ibsen’s A Doll’s House. It was very good.”
“I saw the Merchant of Venice last year.”
“You enjoy Shakespeare?”
“Yes, but Macbeth is my favourite. It’s full of dark desires, ghastly deeds and madness.”
He laughed softly. “You obviously have many admirers to accompany you to the theatre.”
I fluttered my eyelashes at him and clicked my tongue. “I have many friends.”
“I can’t catch you out, can I,” he smiled.
“I suppose you go to the theatre with your wife?”
“Yes, I do,” he said without hesitation.
“Have you been married long?” He looked down at the tablecloth and grinned, but didn’t answer. “May I ask how old you are, then?” He still didn’t answer, but kept on smiling. I decided to go back to our former topics of conversation. “Do you like opera?”
“I go very rarely,” he sighed.
“Why?”
He sat back in his chair and pursed his lips. “I’m not very keen on listening to large ladies bellowing at the top of their voices.”
“Not all opera singers are large,” I said indignantly.
“In my experience they are.”
“Well, perhaps you are choosing the wrong operas.”
“What would you suggest?”
“Mozart, Verdi, Rossini.”
“You know your opera, Miss Pritchard.”
“I’m a music teacher.” I smiled enigmatically.
“Mrs Holland has a wonderful piano in the parlour,” he said, leaning forward in his chair. “Why don’t you sing some of your favourite arias. You might be able to persuade me otherwise.”
I wagged my finger at him. “Oh no, you don’t.”
“Why won’t you sing for me?”
“I told you I charge one shilling and sixpence an hour for singing lessons.”
“Cheap at the price,” he grinned, reaching into his pocket.
There was a gentle knock and Mrs Holland appeared at the door. “Sorry to interrupt you, sir. But it’s two o’clock.”
Karl pulled his watch from his waistcoat pocket and looked at it in alarm. “Goodness me, where has the time gone.” He rose to his feet. “I’m very sorry, my dear Isabelle, but I must go.” He came round to my side of the table and took my hand. “Farewell until we meet again.”
I watched him follow Mrs Holland out into the hallway and heard their muffled voices as they discussed something I couldn’t hear. I licked my dry lips and took another gulp of wine. The next time I met Karl, it wouldn’t be just for luncheon.
I heard the front door close and Mrs Holland came back into the room. I stood slowly.
“Well, what do you think, my dear?”
“He seems a pleasant gentleman,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady. “What did he think of me?”
“He thought you very charming and very interesting. Did you enjoy your luncheon?”
“It was excellent, Mrs Holland. Thank you for taking such trouble.”
“Not at all. It was a pleasure.”
“I suppose I ought to leave too.”
“There is just one more thing to do and that is discuss your next visit.”
“My next visit,” I whispered.
“I want to show you something if you’d like to come with me.”
I followed her out of the dining room and was surprised when she started up the stairs.
“Where are we going?”
“Just follow me.” At the top, she led me down the corridor, past the small bedroom where she had examined me and to the room at the very end. She opened the door. “In you go, my dear.”
Puzzled, I did as I was told and found myself in a very pleasant room decorated in cream and lilac, with rich lilac velvet curtains at the window. It had a wardrobe, dresser and dressing table as well as a washstand with a huge basin. An armchair was placed by the fire with a small table to one side of it. A beautifully patterned rug partially covered the varnished floorboards. On the double bed was spread an exquisite satin quilt. The sheets and pillowcases were of the same satin, but with a frill round the edges. I swallowed with difficulty. I knew what Mrs Holland was showing me.
“I understand,” I murmured.
“It overlooks the garden,” smiled Mrs Holland, walking across to the window and tenderly running her hands down the curtains. She indicated the fireplace. “The fire will be lit, of course, since the weather is turning rather chilly.” I didn’t answer. “Is it to your liking?”
“It’s a beautiful room.” I felt like choking.
“You will come up here after your luncheon at a time that suits you. All you must remember is that the gentleman…”
“He wants me to call him Karl.”
She smiled. “In that case, I shall call him Mr Karl. Please remember that Mr Karl must leave by four-thirty. I suggest that you come up first to get changed.”
“Changed into what?”
She patted her chin with her forefinger. “For modesty’s sake, bring a nightdress and a dressing gown. And your toilet things.” She gave a bright smile and glanced around the room. “You will have time to change and then he will follow you. But after Mr Karl has left, you must stay in bed.”
“Why is that?”
“I want you to rest, perhaps sleep for a while. Then I shall wake you and bring you hot water so you can wash. And then we can have afternoon tea together, before you leave to go your own way. Now, are you happy with those arrangements?”
I nodded and then my nerves got the better of me and I started giggling. “You seem to have everything organised right down to the last detail.”
She squeezed my hand. “It must seem that way. But there’s a lot of money at stake here, not to mention the hopes and dreams of a lady who deserves to have those dreams come true.”
As I left the house, I thought of my dreams and hopes. If in due course, when my dreams came true, I would probably look back on all this as being worth it. But at the moment, I had to concentrate on meeting Karl in two days’ time and a quiver of trepidation surged through me.
CHAPTER SEVEN
The following day was Sunday and we went to church, but that particular Sunday I felt very unsettled. I cuddled Danny on my knee until he finally fell asleep, his thumb in his mouth and looking so sweet in his sailor suit that Nan had made for him. My mind drifted and I couldn’t concentrate on the sermon.
Was it wrong what I was doing? Perhaps I should save my money and pay my academy fees through my own means. I could apply for the scholarship next July and perhaps this time I might be successful, but then I sighed and realised that by July I should be through this and I could enrol as a student in my own right. I glanced around at the other members of the congregation and shuddered. How appalled they would be if they knew what I intended doing. So would Nan and Gwilym. God help me if they ever found out.
Stephanie and her fiancé were sitting just in front of me and she turned round
and gave me a bright smile. I would have a chat with her when we were outside. She was to marry in that same church and Nan had nearly finished her dress and had already started on mine. I was to wear a pale blue velvet gown with a matching hat trimmed with blue ribbons and silk flowers. I was looking forward to following my friend up the aisle; I wanted her to be happy so very much.
Gwilym came for luncheon and I watched in amazement as he stuffed pieces of beef into his mouth.
“You look as though you’ve not eaten for ages,” I laughed.
“The food is awful at the hospital,” he said. “I only get a decent meal when I come here.”
I fluffed his hair and he rebuffed me. Afterwards, he sat on the floor and built a bridge with Danny’s bricks and then chuckled as his nephew found great pleasure in knocking it to the ground and then asking him to rebuild it.
I slept badly that night and wasn’t very eager for the one lesson I had that morning. It was with Charity Reynard and it was one of the lessons I had had to rearrange. I spent the hour in a state of numbness and played the piano without thinking, my mind distracted. I let Charity croak away and didn’t bother correcting or instructing her.
“Are you unwell, Mrs Asquith?”
I stopped playing. “No, Charity. Why do you ask?”
“It’s just that I finished singing but you went on playing.”
“Did I? Oh dear, how silly of me. Time for me to go, I think.” I collected up my music and then went into the hall for my hat and pelisse. Charity had trailed after me. “I’ll see you next week, then,” I said to her, as the maid opened the door for me. I picked up the small valise I had left by the hat stand.
“But don’t you want me to fetch Mama for your money?”
I stared blankly at her. “This lesson is for free.” I left her with her mouth open.
I caught the omnibus in a daze and watched the houses and shops move past me as though I was in a dream. Only the clip-clop of the horses’ hooves impinged on my thoughts. I tried not to think of my husband. I tried not to think of my child or Nan. I tried not to think of anything.
By the time I reached the house in Gibson Place I might as well have been a woman walking to the gallows. My mind was paralysed with shock and as I knocked on the door, I was shaking with fright. Would Karl feel the same, I wondered. Somehow I didn’t think so. He was a married man while I had been a widow for nearly two years. Not that he knew that. But it had been a long time since I had…Daniel’s darling face floated into my mind. No, no, I cried inside my head. Go away husband of mine and rest in peace. The maid opened the door.