by Paul Kelly
Chapter Twenty-Three
FIONA sat watching William’s face as he was trying to read something on her kitchen table. She knew he was unaware that she was watching him, but she liked what she saw and the more she began to know more about William Bright, the less she felt she understood why he had fallen for her mother. Fiona wondered what it was that turned him on as she could certainly never be to him what her mother had been. Maya Broomfield was an extrovert who carried her heart on her sleeve and her boobs in a tight and high-slung bra. She was vulgar and outspoken often to the point of being insulting, but she apparently didn’t care. Fiona knew she could never be like that. She could never call William the names that her mother called him and she wondered if perhaps she should, so that he might be attracted to her as he was to Maya, but she blushed at the thought of William with the thong her mother had bought him and how Maya had to put it on correctly for him when he made a mistake and had it on the wrong way round. She closed her eyes and her cheeks burned when she thought that she might call him Bollocky-Boy ... but she knew that could never be and that there must be some other way to win William Bright’s affections ... but what?
She continued watching William at the kitchen table until he closed the book he was studying and stuffed it into his pocket before he left the kitchen and strolled nonchalantly into the lounge.
“Interesting read?” Fiona called out after him and he turned around suddenly seemingly thinking he was the only person in the room.
“Quite, he said, but it was obvious he had no intention of telling her more.
“Cuppa?” she asked, hoping to get him to talk more, but he shrugged his shoulders as if he couldn’t have cared less.
“Yes, if you’re making one, O.K. but don’t do one especially for me,” he said and Fiona smiled. He had said more than a few words to her and that made her happy, especially as it seemed his stutter had completely gone from him . . . she noticed, particularly since the death of Maya … It was an improvement and she hoped for better things to come as she filled the kettle, but William paid more attention to the little book which he retrieved from his pocket; the one he had found in Maya’s flat. That book drew more attention from William than Fiona’s tea making …
He opened the book slowly and turned to the first page. It was alphabetical and the name ABBOT, appeared in large bold letters with a telephone number by its side. The second page showed the names of BARRAS and BERTRAND, which made his screw up his eyes in wonder ... He never knew that Maya had so many friends and he wondered if they were all male ... The names seemed to jump out at him as a warning of something or other, but he wasn’t sure what they meant or what use they would be to him now that Maya was with him no more, nevertheless they all had telephone numbers by the side of the names ... and he flicked through casually to another page with the alphabet M. MURPHY, MOFFAT, SHARMA ... could that last name be a foreigner . . . and why was S included with the Ms, he asked himself as he imagined the first two, with the initial M could easily be Irish, but he had never heard of anyone called Sharma before. Perhaps this person named Sharma had a Christian name beginning with M and then it donned on him . . . that these names were the names of the people who came to Maya for dental attention and he considered his curiosity to be superfluous . . .nevertheless William closed the book gently, as if within its covers, together with the various names he had seen there were many memories that he should cherish, since they were associated with his late lover and he decided that one day not too far off, he would telephone one or two of the names ... just out of curiosity and to ensure that he knew all that was necessary in the little book, apart from his own entries which he knew so well. He wanted to know what they had and could give to Maya that he didn’t have and couldn’t give to her . . . if they were just friends and not in any way visitors to the dental practice.
The following day he had an answer to his enquiry at the Royal College of Music when he was asked to attend for an interview the following Wednesday week. William was excited ... If he could gain entrance there, he could start up his school to teach violin.
Meanwhile, he glanced again at the letters he had found in Maya’s bedroom. Should he burn them …or should he continue to read? After all he knew what was in those letters better than anyone else, since he had written them himself, but somehow when he read them again, they could have been written by any lover to his beloved. The words did not seem familiar if the sentiments tore at his heart.
“My dearest darling ... You know you are the most beautiful person I have ever met in my entire life ... Doesn’t that sound as though I am nearly one hundred years of age and have lived through an eternity . . . but truly my darling, you ARE my life. You are everything that means anything to me and anything or anyone else is a mirage; a dream, but not as pleasant as the dream I am now having of being with you in the next hour where I will tell you again, face to face, my sweet, how much I love you. How much I adore you and always will.
William blushed visibly and put the letter down by his side. He had signed it, ‘Your own Bollocky-Boy’ ... claiming it to be his own to Maya, even if he found it hard to imagine it was …and he looked out into the kitchen to ensure that Fiona wasn’t anywhere around.
Chapter Twenty-Four
THE DAYS soon passed and he went for his interview at the Royal College, but William was nervous and afraid that he would start to stammer again. He sat in the waiting room and his mobile rang, just as he was preparing his voice for stammering and he thought it best not to think too much about his problem, hoping it would go away naturally … It was Fiona on the phone …
“William, are you alright? I wanted to come with you but you had left before I got up. I thought you said the interview was not until eleven o’clock this morning,”
It was Fiona’s voice he heard and a Commissionaire who was standing by the door beckoned him to turn his mobile off.
“They are not allowed in here Sir ... Take it outside if you want to use it, but not inside.”
William moved hastily to the door and told Fiona she should not telephone him until the interview was over and then he would phone her and let her know how he got on, if he had any news at that time. She understood, but still insisted that she should have come with him and he shook his head as he put his mobile back into his coat pocket.
That afternoon, when he came back to the flat, Fiona was waiting anxiously to hear his news.
“Everything seems fine,” he said, “They gave me a test and I think they were rather surprised at how I played, considering I only had a very amateurish tutor.” Fiona clapped her hands and danced around the kitchen floor as the kettle screamed for her to make the tea.
“Were you able to speak to them alright, William ... I mean . . .”
William anticipated her question and assured her that he didn’t have a stammer and that everything went well in that direction.
“I’m going to take you out to dinner this evening as congratulations on a wonderful achievement and I don’t want NO for an answer ... understand?” she cried and threw her arms around William, but he did not respond to her as she had hoped he would and she felt rather foolish, however he accepted the invitation and told her he would be pleased to have dinner with her and the smile on his smooth face made her think that perhaps as the evening wore on, there may be a difference in his mood.
They dined that same evening at a famous Italian Restaurant . . .
“You seem very quiet this evening, William?” she said as they were enjoying their meal together, “Is there any way I can help?” . . . but William lowered his head still more and looked away.
“I ... I ... I ‘m thinking of going into the Royal College of Music only because I want to start a school and teach violin lessons, but suddenly now when I am so very close to going there, I feel so inadequate. I’ve never been very bright, Fiona. ... How will I fare at the college when I am so ...
so stupid in other ways?”
Fiona stretched her hand across the table and touched his fingers.
“You play beautifully William, so what more do you want? The college would never have given you any consideration if they thought you weren’t good enough, so put those worries from your head and look forward to something that will create a great interest in your life.”
“But ... but me ... a music teacher. Don’t you want to laugh at that?” he asked and she pressed his fingers still more.
“You play beautifully and if you teach others to play that way, nothing could be more perfect.” Said Fiona, but William stared past her and studied a plant that stood near their table.
“This dessert is absolutely wonderful,” he replied to throw off his embarrassment and Fiona felt the world was her oyster since William had actually entered into a full conversation with her and was actually interested in her opinion of what he should do … most importantly of all … and the stutter had disappeared …
The following morning a letter arrived offering William a place in the Royal College of Music where in order to obtain a teaching certificate, he would have to enter a three year’s course before he could obtain his degree, but this delighted William more than he could say. He could commence his course in the August of that year and he stammered a little with excitement as he staggered all around the lounge talking to himself. Fiona had left to go to her work at the veterinary practice. He was alone in the flat and he biffed the air as he jumped with excitement.
Fiona was delighted with the news when she came home that evening and decided to go to the off license to get a bottle of champagne when she remembered that William didn’t drink. They had lucozade instead, but he talked incessantly and that was champagne enough for Fiona.
The following morning, William was beside himself with renewed excitement after a restless night’s sleep. He thought again of Maya and of the life he led with her and wished she had been with him then to tell him how pleased she was with his achievements. He knew she would be as thrilled as he was . . . as she was always telling him he had wasted his time doing anything but playing the violin and then a sudden dark thought overtook him ... He thought again about the little book he had found in Maya’s flat. The book with all those names in it and he took it out to look through it again. Opening it at random, the name Cramner stood out in bold letters on page C …as the only name on the page and he studied the telephone number for a few moments before the mad idea came to him that this woman or man was only a phone call away and he could find out more about him or her if only he could connect with him or hr in this way. He played with the idea, thinking it would be of little use to him to know anything about this person now that Maya had gone, but the thought persisted with him until he lifted the telephone and dialed the number he saw in the book.
A few minutes passed before a woman answered and for a second William was pleased. Perhaps he had read more into this book than was there . . .Perhaps this was a Mrs. Cramner who had attended the dentistry when Maya was there …
“Hello ... I would like to speak to you about a friend of mine. I think you knew her. Her name was Broomfield, Mrs. Maya Broomfield. She is a dentist,” he said, but the lady on the other end of the line assured William that she knew of no ne by that name and she had never visited a dentist by that name either …
“You are Mrs. Cramner ... am I right?” he asked, but she answered that she wasn’t and that her name was Woolwich, Mrs. Della Woolwich.
“Oh! I am sorry, I must have made a mistake, please forgive me,” William apologized, but before he could put the telephone down again, the woman interrupted.
“I think you may be talking about my brother. He lives here with my husband and me. His name is Clive Cramner. Can I give him a message for you or would you like his office phone number?”
William was stunned at how easy it was to connect to someone, even if as obliquely as he had done on this occasion and he took the telephone number of Mr. Clive Cramner’s office.
“Hello ... Good morning, I would like to speak to Mr. Cramner, Mr. Clive Cramner, if I may,” said William trying to make his voice sound a little deeper than it was and a man answered with a very assured and self righteous tone, which shook William for a second as he listened more carefully into the phone.
“Yes, this is Clive Cramner ... what can I do for you? You know we have several options on kitchen furniture for this month only.”
William was stunned.
“Well ... well, sir, I wasn’t thinking of kitchens actually. I think you may know a friend of mine, a Mrs. Maya Broomfield.” he said, but there was an immediate silence on the telephone when William said that as Mr.Clive Cramner suddenly coughed and the voice changed.
“Maya ... You know Maya ... but what do you want with me,” the man asked, “I … I thought ... I thought ... Who are you and what is your name?”
“My name is Bright, Sir ... William Bright, but that really doesn’t matter, you see, I would very much like to meet you and talk about some things that might interest you.”
“Are you a policeman ... a lawyer or something…?”
“No, just a friend of Maya’s but she spoke about you to me,” William lied. “Quite a lot actually and I thought it would be nice if we could meet.”
William giggled as he covered the telephone with his hand. He was amazed at how this new excitement in his life; like making curious phone calls, eliminated his stammer completely. Perhaps he had found an uplifting science in his life after all …
“Well, I’m not sure that I could make it, old boy,” said Clive Cramner. You see I’m up to the eyes with this new kitchen project and it does take up a lot of my time.”
“Oh that is a pity. I am sure Maya would be disappointed if she knew I had missed you.” William went on and then a sudden idea crossed his mind. It was a bold one and could have misfired, but he took the chance.
“Maya thought it would be nice if we could all meet together. You know just the three of us for a meal or something …” he said, but again there was a long pause on the phone before Mr, Cramner answered and his reply shook William to the core.
“The last time I did this with Maya, the bloke was a bloody tranny and I didn’t like that at all ... I’m totally heterosexual, old boy and make no mistake, but I do like a little diversion now and again, if you know what I mean ... You’re not Bertie, by any chance, are you?”
William could not believe his ears as he stood with the telephone in his hand gazing at the earpiece.
“No, I’m not Bertie. My name is Bright, William Bright, so ... we can meet then, yes?” he said and his voice was beginning to feel weak as the man on the other end suggested a meeting place and William grabbed a biro to make a note of the place.
“O.K.” said William repeating the instructions he was given by Mr. Cramner “9.0pm on Wednesday next … Outside the Bull and Bush ... Mansfield House. I’ll be there. S ... s ... s ... see you then.”
William put the phone down and scratched his head. He could not believe what he had just heard and when he thought again of Maya and the love they shared between them he became angry. He knew he could never forget Maya, no matter how much he tried. She was HIS LOVE and nothing would ever change that, but he sat down and cried when he thought again about the Cramner fellow ...and the ‘tranny’ named Bertie . . .
Chapter Twenty-Five
WILLIAM waited until nearly twenty past nine on the agreed Wednesday when he had arranged to meet Clive Cramner, but there was no sign of him and William began to think that Cramner had taken him for a ride and that he would avoid meeting him regardless of the anxiety that William thought he had instilled into him. After all, Cramner could have thought William to be the police, even when he had told Cramner that he wasn’t. Who believes who these days, he thought as he decided to return to Fiona’s flat and call it a
day of defeat, but hardly had he decided to do that, when he heard a shuffling noise coming from a shop doorway nearby.
“Is your name Bright?” a voice asked and William stopped sharply in his tracks. He turned to face the person who had spoken to him to discover that the man looked much younger than he had thought he might be from the time when he had spoken to him on the telephone.
“Yes ... Are you Clive Cramner?”
The man stood still without answering for a few moments and then he came closer to where William was standing.
“I don’t know what sort of game you’re playing, mate, but I only know Maya Broomfield from one of her other acquaintances and I don’t know her that well, so what do you want?” he said and William stood back thinking for a moment that Cramner was going to hit him; he was so aggressive in his manner.
“I just wanted to know more about your friendship with Maya, as she was a very good friend of mine too,” said William and Cramner raised his eyebrows at William’s statement.
“You say was a good friend …” Cramner looked closely into William’s face as he spoke. “Don’t know quite what you mean by that,” he went on and William stood back even further away as Cramner’s eyes were blazing.