Music from Home

by Geraldine O'Neill

  “She’ll be fine,” Diana said, “and I’m sure Maria will encourage her to keep up her practice. She said the teachers are always praising Stella, and have said she has a great future in ballet.”

  “I’m glad to hear all that, especially with all the money we spent converting a spare bedroom into a mini-studio for her.” Jane sighed. “And of course I do know that Maria would only have Stella’s best interests at heart. It’s Stella herself who is the problem. She’s her own worst enemy. At least she’s eating a bit better at the moment since we threatened to take her to the doctor.” She paused. “It’s that damned Tony is to blame for everything. He’s like a black shadow hanging over her life. She has never been the same since she became involved with that boy.”

  “Have you ever thought,” Diana ventured, “that if you allowed Stella to see him openly, maybe it would all fizzle out? You often hear of that happening.”

  “We’ve discussed it from every angle, but both Richard and I think she would just become more attached to him if she were to see him regularly and, if it didn’t fizzle out, we would find it hard to stop it then.” She sighed. “We’ve even thought of sending her abroad for a year – to one of those finishing schools in France or even Switzerland.”

  “Finishing school?” Diana said. “Good Lord – do they still have them? I thought they had died out.”

  “Well, it was only a thought. We don’t really want to send her away.”

  “And it’s probably not a good idea when you’re so worried about her eating problems. You don’t know how she would be away from all her family and friends.”

  The conversation halted as a customer came in and came over to the desk.

  “Oh, if only life were simpler!” Jane said quietly. “If only Stella were simpler.”

  When at last the shop door closed behind Jane Maxwell, Diana and the girls set to unpacking the boxes with the psychedelic Love label, so they would be ready for sale the following morning. Each item of clothing was unwrapped with much anticipation, then every inch of it examined and admired before it was hung carefully on the rack. By the time the shop was closed, all three assistants left with a bag each of items from the new collection, bought with a good staff discount. Diana had quickly tried on a short chiffon dress, with panels in pink and black and with long sheer black sleeves. She was slightly unsure about the length as it was shorter than she usually wore – a good four inches above her knee – but she got such an overwhelmingly positive reaction from the girls that she decided to wear it to the restaurant that night.

  When she got home, she took half an hour to put her feet up and watch the evening news, then she went upstairs and ran a bath. She pinned her long red hair up to keep it dry, since she had already washed it that morning, then had a long leisurely soak. When she got out she dried herself and then spent a few minutes rubbing body lotion all over her skin, finishing off with a few drops of Chanel No 5 applied behind her ears, on her wrists and between her breasts.

  As her hands moved over the different parts of her body, her mind automatically moved to Leo and she wondered if and when there would be any physical intimacy between them. She was not a naïve young girl and, although both she and Leo were Catholics, there had been a definite change in general attitudes towards sex and freedom in the last few years. Many people their age were now making their own decisions about relationships outside of marriage regardless of what the Church and other people thought. There was also a growing belief among some couples that it made more sense to find out if they were compatible physically before committing themselves to marriage. And even though she would not have previously subscribed to that sort of thinking, there were certain events in recent years that had now made Diana reconsider those values.

  Diana was also very aware that Leo had been married for a number of years and had obviously been used to having regular sexual relations during that time. And, as far as she had been led to believe by Jane Maxwell, even though he had been the object of several women’s desires he had spent the years since his young wife died on his own.

  Her own physical experiences were quite different, in that they were more or less non-existent. Before Brian there had been one or two close encounters – one notable one when she had stayed the weekend with friends in a country house in Cheshire – but something had always held her back. She supposed it was the old-fashioned value of waiting for the right one. She had been almost sure that Brian was that person but, as time went on their relationship just never really developed either physically or emotionally, and they were almost like a distant brother and sister. By the end, she discovered that she hardly knew him at all.

  She put some hand-cream on, then went over to the hanger on the door for her dressing-gown. As she put it on she suddenly remembered the letter she had put in her pocket that morning. She took it out, then went into her bedroom and sat on the dressing-table stool to read it.

  There was nothing new. All the same things he had been saying on the phone for weeks and weeks. That he still loved her, that he had learned the biggest lesson of his life being apart from her, that he wanted to marry her and have a family with her. She read on and on – it was just more and more repeats of everything he had already said. She had told him when he last phoned that she had met someone else, and had hoped that might deter him. The tone of the letter told her that it had just panicked him and made him more determined to convince her that they were right for each other. And, although she had never made it explicit, he had referred to her feeling that perhaps he had not shown his feelings for her physically enough. And of course he hadn’t.

  She crumpled the letter and threw it in the wastepaper bin by her dressing-table. The thought of him making love to her now seemed ludicrous. That was something that would never ever happen whether her romance with Leo lasted or not . . . because they would never have any kind of relationship ever again.

  She pushed all thoughts of her ex-fiancé out of her mind and went over to the wardrobe where her new pink-and-black dress hung. Then, as she got dressed and made-up, the more she thought of the night ahead the more excited and full of anticipation she felt about seeing Leo and sitting in his lovely restaurant listening to him tell her about his day and all his customers.

  Diana parked the car just down the street from the restaurant and then carefully picked her steps over the damp cobblestones towards the door. As she got closer, she could see people sitting at the tables by the window. For a few moments she felt self-conscious walking in on her own, but she made herself lift her shoulders and take a deep breath as she pushed the door open.

  Leo, standing by the cash desk, looked over to the door just as she came in. He smiled at her as though surprised to see her and came towards her to kiss her on the cheek. He helped her off with her coat and gave it to one of the waiters. He then indicated the table in the corner where they were to sit, and as she wended her way through the tables towards it, Diana had to stop herself from grinning because she knew that Leo had positioned himself purposely near the door, watching and waiting for her.

  Diana sat back in the chair and smoothed the hem of her new dress down as far as it would go. Then she glanced at the perfectly set table, and smiled to herself. It wasn’t different as such from the others – the customary vase with small red roses, the tall crystal candlestick, but she knew he had picked the corner table for privacy, and had chosen the opened bottle of Chianti because she told him the last night she was in the restaurant that she liked the pretty, traditional Italian basket that it came in.

  Leo came back to join her, immediately complimenting her on her dress and her hair, and then he told her that she smelled lovely. They chatted about what they had been doing during the day and he said he had called out to the stable in the morning to have a meeting with Bella Maria’s trainer, then he had called back home in the afternoon to bring his other Maria a dish of lasagne. They talked then about the advantage of owning your own business, and how you could choose how to spend yo
ur time.

  “I suppose really that we mix home and work all the time,” Diana mused. “I often stay late if I’m working on something, and bring books home or go into the shops on a Sunday if I want to change things around.”

  Leo had agreed, and said that the restaurant had been his saving grace after Maria’s mother died, and how he had been able to bring his daughter to work with him if necessary. He then went on to tell her that Maria was much happier since finally telling her ballet teacher that she was giving up her classes for good. Diana listened carefully and said Maria had mentioned it to her as well, and that, in her own opinion, Maria was doing the right thing. She decided not to venture Jane Maxwell’s views on it as it wasn’t going to add anything helpful to the conversation and she did not want to give Leo the impression she was a gossip. She was also being careful not to seem too interested in what Maria was doing in case it looked like she was already considering herself a part of their little family.

  Things between herself and Leo – and herself and Maria – were going so much better than she could ever have hoped for, and she did not want to jeopardise that. Fate may well have intervened when she and Maria were introduced in the church, but she knew that it was common sense to tread carefully with the close relationship between father and daughter.

  They had a plain melon dish to start and afterwards the waitress came with the main course.

  “I hope you like the dish that Franco has cooked for us,” Leo said, smiling.

  “I’m sure I will.”

  “This is Pasta Carbonara with chicken and bacon,” Leo told her. “It’s a traditional dish from Rome, although there is some argument as to how old it is. Some say it goes back as far as Ancient Rome and others say it’s as recent as World War Two.” He shrugged and smiled. “Who cares how old it is as long as it tastes good?”

  “It looks and smells fantastic,” Diana said, enjoying the way he gave her the history of Italian food and his obvious pride in it.

  After the meal Franco himself, still dressed in his chef’s apron and hat, brought them out a dish oftiramisu, and when Diana asked what was in it he gave a brief rundown.

  “So it has cream and sponge in it?” she checked. “Apart from the coffee it sounds just like a –” Franco held his hand up to stop her, laughed and said, “The worst thing you can say to an Italian is that it is like an English trifle.”

  “But what if the person likes English trifle?” Diana said, laughing along with him, “and means it as a genuine compliment?”

  He paused for a moment. “I would have to think about that,” he said, heading back into the kitchen.

  When they finished and the waitress had cleared the dishes away, Franco, without his uniform now, came back to the table with another bottle of Chianti. Then, as the last meals had been cooked and served, he pulled out a chair and joined them in a glass of wine.

  Again, Diana thought how wonderfully easy it was to slip into even the working side of Leo Conti’s life. Meeting Franco and his wife at the races, and Charlie Ford andsome of Leo’s other friends, meant that there had been no awkward introductions to be made. It also helped when they discovered that they were both Catholics, and attended the same church on Sundays. Although, so far, since she usually went to the early Mass while Leo preferred the later one, they had not gone together.

  Now, listening to the two men talking about Italian food and wines, and about the different regions they came from, the thought crept into Diana’s mind that, if things worked out, perhaps she and Leo might go there for a visit. By the following summer, it would not be outside the realms of possibility that they might go together with Maria and Paul. The thought warmed her immensely, as there were so many places like Rome and Florence she always wanted to see, and she could think of no better companion and tour guide to take her around than Leo. So far, everything that she did with Leo she enjoyed more than she had ever done with anyone else or by herself. In fact, she thought, she even liked herselfmore when she was with Leo.

  Later, as she laughed along with some funny joke Franco had told, she thought that no matter what happened she was grateful to be in this lovely restaurant and part of this lively, colourful group.

  Leo lifted the wine bottle but as he went to pour Diana another glass she stopped him.

  “I have the car,” she reminded him, “and I’ve already had two glasses so I’d better not.”

  Franco immediately got to his feet. “Would you like coffee instead?”

  When Maria said she would love a coffee, Leo said he would have one as well, and suggested that they could perhaps drive their own cars back to her place, and finish the wine off there. She felt her face flush as she nodded and said that it was a great idea.

  They were just finishing their coffee when they heard noises in the street outside. Franco went out to check and after a few moments he stuck his head back and gestured to Leo to follow him.

  Leo was on his feet quickly. “I won’t be a minute,” he told her, squeezing her arm as he passed her.

  Diana, glowing from his touch, lifted her bag. “If I’m not here when you come back,” she said, “I’m only in the ladies’ room!”

  A short while later, after checking her hair and touching up her make-up, Diana came back into the restaurant. The two waitresses were putting fresh tablecloths and napkins out and resetting the dining places, but there was no sign of the two men. She sat down at the table, and picked up her cup of lukewarm coffee and took a sip for something to do. Her mind was full of what might happen later. She was quite sure that nothing really physical would happen that night or even the next night they were on their own together. But she could with some certainty feel deep inside her that in the not too distant future it would all happen. In the meantime, she would enjoy every minute of all the other pleasures he had brought to her, until the right time came.

  When the waitresses went through the swing doors to the kitchen carrying bundles of linen, Diana glanced towards the door to see Leo and Franco standing outside. Something about the way Franco had both his hands on either side of Leo’s head, and looked to be talking very seriously, made her suddenly anxious. Were they having some sort of row, she wondered? It seemed unlikely, given that only a few minutes ago they were laughing and chatting. And neither of them had drunk that much – little more than she had. She glanced at the second bottle of wine and it was still two-thirds full. She looked back to the door and this time Leo had turned around and Franco seemed to be examining the back of his head. The gesture was enough to make her move quickly from the table and towards the door.

  “Is there anything wrong?” she said, looking at Franco.

  “Ah, stupid, stupid boys teasing Timothy again.”

  Diana didn’t know who Timothy was, and didn’t feel it was the right time to ask about such inconsequential details. She came around the side to look at Leo. “Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine,” he said.

  “He’s not fine,” Franco said, looking at her with worried eyes. “He got a bang on the back of the head. There was a fight and Leo moved backwards and lost his balance – and hit his head on the postbox outside. He hit it badly. I heard it – it was a big thud. He needs to see a doctor.”

  “I’m okay,” Leo said.

  Something about his eyes worried Diana. “I agree,” she said. “I think we should get you into casualty. Stockport Infirmary should be fine, and it’s only five minutes from home.”

  “I’m sure it’s all right.”

  She smiled at him. “I’m sure it is, but Franco is right – it’s best to get it checked out.”

  Chapter 21

  As she settled down to watch Top of the Pops with a glass of lemonade and a packet of crisps, Maria felt relaxed and unusually happy. For once, everything seemed to have fallen into place in exactly the way she wanted it. Paul and she were getting on better and better, and things were wonderful with her father since he had started seeing Diana. He was always good-natured, but these last few
months he seemed different, more relaxed and, in a funny way that Maria couldn’t describe, he seemed more confident. And he certainly wasn’t drinking as much or staying out late playing cards.

  Today she was particularly relieved that telling her ballet teacher that she was dropping out of classes had gone much better than she had expected. The teacher had just shrugged and said she wasn’t surprised and that a lot of girls left at around fifteen and sixteen due to exam pressure and lack of time to practise. Only the most dedicated stayed on, and that’s exactly how the ballet school preferred it.

  Apart from the slight inference that Maria wasn’t the material they required, she was delighted to be let off so lightly. Of course Stella hadn’t been at all happy about it, but Maria wasn’t too worried about that, as recently her friend seemed to find something to moan about every single day. If it wasn’t her mother forcing her to do things and practise her ballet when she didn’t feel like it, it was her father or her younger brothers annoying her.

  Stella would just have to get over her leaving the ballet class and it might even help her to concentrate more if she didn’t have someone to gossip and giggle with during the breaks. And, they always had their horse-riding class – that’s if Stella didn’t muck it all up by going against her parents over Tony.

  She curled up on the sofa, her feet tucked under her, her shoulders moving now and again in time with Union Gap singing one of her big favourites ‘Young Girl’. Love Affair came on afterwards singing ‘Rainbow Valley’ and they were just near the end when the phone rang.

  She hesitated for a minute before going across to the table to pick it up. Unless it was something really, really important, none of her friends or Paul would ring her when Top of the Pops was on. The phone often rang directly after the programme, as Stella loved to discuss in great detail which groups or singers were on, whether she liked their new song and what they were wearing. As she lifted the receiver, she had decided it had to be her dad on to remind her to do something or other.