Songbird

by Bell, Julia

  Gwilym chuckled. “Well, I remembered all your books were sold when the house in Cwmdare had to go. And I know how you loved your books.”

  “Yes, that was sad, but necessary. I couldn’t trek a cartload of literature to London with me.”

  He nodded. “And you had to sell all your jewellery too, if I remember.”

  “I did, but I needed to get as much money together for my journey here and also to help Nan pay the bills until I collected some music pupils together.”

  “Why have you given up teaching?” We had stayed on the floor and he leaned back against the couch, watching me through half-closed eyes.

  “I’ll just go and see how the turkey is coming along,” said Nan and I caught the warning glance she sent in Gwilym’s direction.

  “What do you mean?” I asked, feeling uneasy.

  “You said that even when you become a student at the academy, you would still need to teach to pay your way. But you’ve not done that and I just wondered why.”

  I shrugged. “I decided to concentrate entirely on my studies. I didn’t want any distraction.”

  He watched Danny for a moment, busy with his wooden fort and toy soldiers. “How are you paying your bills?” he asked quietly.

  “Oh, I’ve put money aside.”

  “Did the ladies academy in France pay well?”

  “It was good money.”

  “Enough to pay your bills for the next two years?”

  “Mmm. More or less,” I said, trying to sound casual.

  “What was the name of the headmistress?”

  “Pardon?”

  “The name of headmistress at this ladies academy?”

  I blew out a long breath. “Mademoiselle Paradis. Jacqui Paradis.” I forced a laugh, relieved that I still remembered her name.

  Nan came in from the kitchen. “I’ve done the vegetables. So, we can eat between twelve and one, if you wish.”

  We nodded together.

  “Sounds wonderful,” I said.

  “Issy likes her gifts,” said Gwilym dryly, pulling himself up onto the couch. “But I’m surprised with all the wonderful stuff she’s been receiving.”

  I saw Nan’s shocked expression and she gave the merest shake of her head.

  “What’s going on here?” I snapped. “If you have anything to say, then come out with it and stop this stupid little game you’re playing.” I sprang to my feet and glared at them.

  Nan turned away in embarrassment. “Leave it Gwilym. It’s Christmas Day for goodness sake.”

  Gwilym stood also and the three of us faced each other. “Perhaps we could go for a walk?” he suggested quietly.

  I nodded and we went into the hallway and collected our coats. Nan watched us, frowning.

  “All right, Gwilym, out with it,” I said, as we followed the streets of Hammersmith, our destination unknown.

  He glanced about him. “I tried to ignore the gold fob watch you started wearing…”

  “That was from the mother of one of my pupils,” I said vehemently. I was starting to believe my own lies.

  “All right, but then you bought me the most expensive stethoscope on the market.”

  “Don’t you like it? I’ll take it back if you wish.”

  He shook his head and then gestured towards a cast iron bench by a small grassy area. “Let’s sit down, shall we.” We took our seats. “No, Issy, I love my stethoscope and I’ll use it for many years to come. But I just wondered where you found the money.”

  “It’s rather rude to ask that about a gift you’ve received.”

  “I know, but it worried me.”

  “I used my savings,” I said quietly.

  “And last Christmas when you treated us to the theatre and the dinner dance. I...we, since Nan feels the same way, were rather concerned.”

  “I don’t understand why. I had the money so I spent it.”

  “And then we come to your little jaunt to France.”

  I felt my mouth drying and I licked my lips. “It turned out to be the wrong decision,” I said lamely.

  He studied me while an uncomfortable silence fell between us.

  Finally he spoke. “I might as well tell you. I’ve met this headmistress of yours.”

  “Have you? When?” I blinked in horror.

  His voice was low and his hazel eyes grew darker. I could almost feel his anger. “Nan doesn’t know this but I went to France last June and found myself in the area of Rennes. I decided, on the spur of the moment, to pay you a surprise visit at the academy. I met Mademoiselle Paradis and received the startling news that she had never employed a music teacher by the name of Mrs Isabelle Asquith, but she had been accepting letters on behalf of a certain lady with that name. Are you going to tell me what’s going on?”

  I stared down at my gloved hands. I would not cry I told myself firmly. Mademoiselle Jacqui Paradis had been very indiscreet, but there again, she wouldn’t have known the reason why I needed my mail diverting.

  I glanced up to see Gwilym staring at me with a look I had never seen before. I shook my head and shuddered. “It’s got nothing to do with you,” I said.

  He ignored me. “And then you arrive home in possession of some expensive items.”

  “What expensive items?”

  “A beautiful walnut jewellery box, a silver brooch and an exquisite gold and diamond pendant.”

  “Who told you…?” A lump came to my throat. Nan must have told him, only she would go into my bedroom. “They were birthday presents.”

  “Birthday presents? It makes me wonder who gave you them!”

  “This is not fair, Gwilym.” I jumped to my feet and he stood with me. “I’m a grown woman and I have the right to live my life as I feel fit and be entitled to my privacy. I’ll not be judged like this.”

  He put his hands on my shoulders. “But the thing that really sticks in my craw, Issy, is that you tell a barefaced lie about winning the scholarship to the music academy.”

  “But I…I did.”

  “Oh, but you didn’t!” His eyes seemed as black as coal. “I treated a patient who is studying at the academy and he informed me that of the three students that were chosen last July, there was only one woman. With fair hair and blue eyes and only eighteen at that.” I didn’t know how to answer him and stared down at his boots in desperation. His grip tightened on my shoulders. “You have a lover, haven’t you? No doubt a married man who has made you his mistress and he’s been supplying you with cash and buying you expensive gifts. You went to France to be with him and obviously he’s now paying your academy fees. Who is he?”

  I lifted my face and he could see everything in my expression. What he had surmised couldn’t have been further from the truth and yet how could I deny it without incriminating myself?

  “Yes,” I whispered. “I have a lover. And he’s paying my academy fees.” Nausea washed over me.

  His hands dropped to his side, his expression contemptuous. “You little fool! Haven’t you learnt anything about life? He’ll use you and then when he tires of you or finds someone else, he’ll discard you like a pair of old slippers.”

  I narrowed my eyes at him and spat out the bile that was churning inside my gut. “Perhaps I’m using him. After all, it’s a way to get my academy fees paid.”

  In one quick movement, he raised his hand and slapped me across the face, sending me reeling to one side. When I regained my balance I could taste the bitterness of blood on my lip. His expression of utter loathing was dreadful to see.

  “I’m disgusted and disappointed with you, Isabelle. I saw what you were up to with Felix Russell and I felt repugnance then. But this! This sickens me! I thought you had more pride in yourself.” He turned to go and then called over his shoulder, “Give my apologies to Nan and tell her I won’t be joining her for Christmas luncheon. I can’t stomach the company.”

  I watched him walk away and although I called after him, he didn’t stop or turn round. Gwilym and I had rarely argued, even as
children. But that was the first time he had struck me. And now that it had happened, I knew that a wide chasm had opened up between us. My deeds had come home to roost. I made my way home, my tears freezing on my cheeks and agonising emptiness filling my heart. I knew that Gwilym would never understand how desperately I wanted to sing, to become part of the opera company at Covent Garden. My ambition had made me blind to everything else. And now, I had to let him believe that a lover was keeping me, because the real truth was too awful to imagine.

  It was a terrible Christmas.

  PART TWO

  THE OPERA SINGER

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  I seemed to be sitting in Mr Andrew Perry’s office forever. As the director of the theatre he felt it unnecessary and undignified to be punctual for an appointment, especially with one so low as a potential member of his cast. And I was at the bottom of the pile when it came to his time. Eventually, he made an appearance and swept into the office as though he had Father Time chasing him.

  “Did I keep you waiting long?”

  “Not long, sir. Only two hours.”

  He smiled and I found myself looking at a man in his mid-thirties with greying hair and blue-grey eyes that seemed full of mischief.

  “We’re rehearsing for a production of Aida and things aren’t going too well.” He held out his hand and I went to shake it, but then realised he was asking for the letter I was holding. I passed it to him. It was from the academy extolling my virtues and talents. He sat down and his gaze swept over it briefly. “I see you graduated with honours and the academy highly recommends you.”

  “I worked hard, sir.”

  “I’m sure you did. You’re a mezzo-soprano?” I nodded. “Stand up please.”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “I want you to stand up and turn round so I can take a look at you.”

  “What does my appearance have to do…”

  “Mrs Asquith, if you wish to join my theatre then please do as I say.” Feeling uneasy, I rose to my feet and slowly did a 360-degree turn, my cheeks flushed red. “Not bad. You have a good figure and no doubt you’ll look presentable on stage.”

  I began to feel indignant. The academy had taught me posture and deportment when singing in front of an audience.

  “Would you like to see my teeth, sir?” I said sarcastically.

  “And you have a sense of humour too. Good! You’ll need it.” He jumped to his feet. “Right, follow me.”

  I tried to but his long legs seemed to stride down the corridor at an incredible speed. I ran to keep up with him. I followed him past the dressing rooms and the wardrobe mistress’s workroom, the smell of the greasepaint forever in my nostrils, past all the paraphernalia that was the backstage of a theatre, trying to avoid ropes and pulleys and weights that threatened to strangle me or take off my head. The people we passed ignored us and went about their business as if it was quite normal to see the director racing through the theatre with a fledging opera singer close behind. We finally reached the stage and I followed him to the centre. What I saw made my mouth drop open in surprise.

  In front of me was the auditorium, the long rows of plush seats like sentries standing in straight lines, the balcony above me and the boxes to the side. Below me was the orchestra pit. I had been to this theatre a few times as a member of the audience but it was the first time I had stood on the stage and seen it from this angle. My heart began to beat faster with excitement and I imagined performing in front of people who had paid a parlour maid’s weekly wage for their tickets and were dressed to the nines for the occasion.

  “I want you to stand there and sing for me,” said Mr Perry, jumping down the few steps from the stage to the auditorium. “I’ll be listening so give it your best.”

  “But what shall I sing?” I shouted at him.

  “Whatever you wish.”

  “Without music?”

  “No time for music,” he said, making his way up the aisle and selecting a row. He made himself comfortable on a seat in the middle.

  I looked around at the people who seemed engrossed in their various activities and took a huge breath. This was the opportunity I had been waiting for, but what should I sing? A carpenter started sawing somewhere behind the curtain at the back and then the sound of hammering came from right above me. It would have to be something loud, I thought with a grimace, or he wouldn’t be able to hear me. And then I remembered my time in France at Chateau St Julienne. I remembered my twenty-first birthday.

  Everyone stopped working in surprise when I started singing the Marseillaise and then they grinned with amusement. I ignored them and went on singing. I had only sung the first three lines when Mr Perry rose to his feet, slipped out of the row and made his way further up the aisle to the back of the theatre. I went on singing. And then he became absorbed in conversation with someone who had just come through the double doors. After that, he signed a few pieces of paper that a secretary had brought to him. I began to feel annoyed, but continued singing.

  When he walked to the side of the theatre and disappeared through the exit, I kept on singing. He hadn’t told me to stop so I didn’t know what to do but carry on. Suddenly he appeared at my elbow.

  “You can stop now, Mrs Asquith.” He quickly looked around and spied a young girl standing in the wings, watching me curiously. “Ruth, come here.” The girl sauntered across and as she walked towards us, she seemed to be scrutinising me from head to toe. “Take this young lady to the dressing room and familiarise her with the routine.” He turned to me. “The pay’s not good and you’ll have to start in the chorus. But providing you’re not looking for fame for the next twenty years, I think you’ll fit in with our happy little band. Rehearsals start at ten tomorrow morning, so don’t be late.”

  I inclined my head. “Thank you, Mr Perry,” I said breathlessly. “I’ll work hard.”

  “You certainly will,” he laughed, as he strode away.

  I glanced at the girl called Ruth. She was small and dark haired with almond shaped eyes of chocolate brown. She gave me a bright smile.

  “The Marseillaise, eh! Very clever. Did you know his grandmother was French?” She didn’t wait for an answer. “And he’s right. The pay’s lousy and you’ll definitely work hard.”

  I grinned. “What about the part about not looking for fame for the next twenty years?”

  “He’s right about that too.” She held out her hand. “Ruth Procter.”

  I shook it enthusiastically. “Isabelle Asquith.”

  “I see you’re wearing a wedding ring. How does Mr Asquith feel about you going on the stage?”

  “He would absolutely love it if he was alive to see it.”

  Ruth grimaced. “Sorry. Me and my big mouth.” She took my arm. “I’ll show you round and then perhaps you’d care to join me and Diamond at the tearooms? We always go there after rehearsals.”

  “Who’s Diamond?” I smiled.

  “Another lost soul in the chorus,” she laughed. She led me backstage and along the maze of corridors. “Her real name is Diana, but she thinks Diamond sounds more like an opera diva. I’ve told her it doesn’t but will she listen? Not on your life.” I tried to remember the route we were taking but soon became lost. Suddenly, Ruth stopped at a door painted red. “This is Signor Bartoli’s dressing room. You never go in there.” And then she stopped at another door painted green. “And this is Signora Zuchetti’s dressing room and you must never go anywhere near this door. In fact, keep out of her sight completely unless you really can’t help it.”

  “Why? Isn’t she nice?”

  Ruth blew out a breath. “She’s a nasty piece of work and likes to lob missiles at us poor chorus folk. She treats us as though we’re something she’s just brought in on her shoe.”

  I couldn’t help giggling. “She sounds awful.”

  “Good singer though. Big woman. Like Katisha in The Mikado, she can kill a man with a blow from her fist.”

  I clicked my tongue. “Don’t tell me you
like Gilbert and Sullivan?”

  “Love them! Diamond and I are always singing songs from their shows.” I couldn’t hide my shock. “Don’t look like that. You’ll be surprised how many of us do. But not when Mr Perry is about. He frowns on it.” I didn’t like to say that I agreed with him. We had reached another door. “This is our changing room. Welcome to bedlam.”

  I stepped through to see about fifteen girls trying to get ready to leave for their afternoon away from the theatre. The place was filled with noise and laughter as they scrambled into coats and rammed hats on heads. Some were still sitting at the long table against the wall, with mirrors positioned so that they could put on their makeup for the performance. The room seemed to empty very quickly with shouts of ‘goodbye’ and ‘see you tomorrow’.

  “Whatcha!” said a voice from the end of the room. “Who’s this then?”

  Ruth smiled and took my arm once more.

  Diamond Ward turned out to be a large, buxom girl, who had, I was later to find out, a heart of gold. She and Ruth had been friends since joining the theatre two years previously and yet they were very different. Whereas Ruth wanted to succeed in the opera world, Diamond simply wanted to find a wealthy husband.

  Later, at the tearooms, I discovered that Ruth had been one of the fortunate few to win a scholarship with the academy. She was a soprano and when I finally heard her sing I knew she was destined for higher things than the chorus. Diamond was a contralto and had sneaked into Covent Garden through the back door. Mr Perry had heard her sing in a small theatre in Torquay and had actually invited her to join his company. It was one of the rare occasions when he had been charitable enough to bend his rules.

  Diamond’s ambition to find a wealthy husband was taking just as long as Ruth’s desire to be an opera diva. Many gentlemen would wait at the stage door and quite a few of the girls would have supper with them. And Diamond had been amongst their number, but she had never found one that really appealed to her. Plenty of time, she told me firmly, she was in no hurry. It seemed in the opera world, everything took time. It was going to be a long and arduous journey and here I was, right at the beginning. But as I listened further, I was filled with excitement. It would be an interesting journey and it looked like I had made two good friends from the start.