Aydy's Fiddle - The Memory Thief
Page 13
“Of course! Good day, professor – and welcome.”
The professor acknowledged Stanley with a nod.
“McLean will show you all to your places,” said Stanley.
* * *
The grounds of Stanley’s estate occupied a picturesque stretch of property along the Thames River in London. Unlike its English namesake, this Thames River was small and many parts of it were not navigable. London itself was named after the capital city in England and strategically located a good distance up the Thames, which some believed would offer a measure of protection against the Americans. Now people made their homes there and the community was thriving. Alexandra wondered how different ‘The Big London’ would be.
“Aydy! Hello!” came a young man’s voice from the crowd.
“Alfred!” Alexandra recognized the cellist immediately and he walked right up to her. She spoke to him through sniffles. “How nice to see you! Are you here with your quartet?”
“Yes, we’re playing tomorrow. Will you be staying ‘til then?”
“No, I’m afraid not. I’m returning home tonight.”
“Well then, I’ll come and listen to your performance! Good luck to you, and I do hope you’ll get well soon!” he said before going off in the direction of his fellow musicians.
“Everybody knows I’m ill,” she mumbled to herself.
At that moment Alexandra noticed the Maestro motioning to her from a distance across a number of people. She went to him straightaway.
“We need to review a few things before you perform. There are twenty-four other violinists registered and so we must ensure your performance is technically flawless. If you can make it past the first part of the competition, you’ll have a real chance. Remember that with so many contestants, the first round is limited to only an excerpt of several minutes. The judges are looking for technical proficiency, musicality and presentation. If they interrupt you during your performance, it doesn’t mean you’ve failed; it simply means they’ve heard enough to assess you. Do you understand?”
“Yes I do, Maestro. I just hope I can make it through without sneezing.”
“Well, that’s something we best leave to God. All right then, there’s a place over there,” said the professor, pointing to a garden bench. “Let’s sit and review.”
While they were discussing things on the bench, Sir Charles approached. “So, this is your first competition, Miss Delmott?”
“Yes it is, Sir Charles. I hope I won’t make a mess of it, honestly,” she said, sniffling. “It’s my biggest dream to be a concert violinist someday and my papa and the Maestro wanted me to come. I can meet other musicians here.”
“Have you taken anything for your cold?” he said.
“Oh, excuse me, sir! I must be a dreadful, sorry sight. I’ve only had tea with lemon.”
Stanley stood with his hand in his jacket pocket. He withdrew it, holding a small vial. He looked at it, then at her. He closed his hand around the vial and placed it back in his pocket.
“Tea with lemon is the best natural remedy, Miss Delmott. Allow yourself a few days’ rest and the cold will run its course. Good luck with the competition.”
“Thank you, Sir Charles,” said Alexandra.
After about a half hour, a trumpet blast rang out to call everyone to the Great Room for the competition. In the audience, the premier of Ontario sat in the front row accompanied by his wife and their entourage. Stanley sat with them. A panel of five judges sat off to the side. Alexandra wondered if the professor felt a bit strange being there in his new role.
Following a few welcoming words from Stanley, the competition officially began and the first performer took the stage. Alexandra marvelled at the quality of the music from each one and was saddened when the judges cut many off after only a few minutes. She wondered if it would happen to her. Still, sitting with her father and friends seemed to soothe her nerves, but not her cold. She had to muffle her sneezes so as to not disturb the performers.
“Owen Delmott, please step forward,” said the announcer.
Owen promptly took the stage. He bowed politely to the dignitaries, judges, his parents and his tutor, and began playing his excerpt from Bruch’s Violin Concerto No 1 in G minor. He played the song with energy and vigour, and the judges let him play his full time allotment. When he stepped down, he cast a superior look at his cousin and took his seat. His parents hugged him and his tutor shook his hand.
“Alexandra Delmott,” came the call.
“You’ll do fine, Alex! Play well, Aydy! Relax!” her companions assured her. Alexandra, with a clean red and white handkerchief ready, took her violin and proceeded up to the stage. She curtsied, tucked her handkerchief between her chin and the violin and waited for the start signal from the judges. She caught sight of her Uncle George sitting in his place, arms folded across his chest, smirking.
Alexandra, poised and elegant as she could be, sniffled once before plunging straight into Brahms’ Violin Concerto in D major, a piece she had learned and practiced with the Maestro every time they had a session together. They chose it because the beginning of the piece could give a good demonstration of her playing ability. She played it forcefully yet gracefully, trying to imitate the technical precision of those masters whom she adored. She closed her eyes and, as she played, she could feel the music, but also felt the magic, which swirled and swept around and through her, causing her skin to tingle. Each plunge of her bow only served to increase the power of this magic, and she became lost in it, swept away to another world, to another place and time.
Alexandra was hoping no one in the audience could detect anything strange about her. However, she hoped they might experience something special, or at least different, in the way she played. After a while she felt the music taking on a life of its own, breathing, brimming with colours, vibrant with sights, energized with sounds – the very fragrance and essence of life itself.
When her performance time was nearing an end, she improvised a melodic finale so that the piece wouldn’t sound halted. She held her violin and bow in her left hand and, smiling radiantly, curtsied to the audience. To her horror, not a single person clapped. Her smile quickly faded as she stood motionless in front of a muted audience. She scanned over the people, looking for at least one person who approved her performance.
At that moment, the entire house erupted into applause, everyone rising to give this newcomer a thunderous standing ovation.
“Bravo! Bravo!” shouted the professor, looking happy as a schoolboy, while Emma was jumping up and down and clapping. The atmosphere in the Great Room was truly electric.
* * *
George Delmott, meanwhile, felt as though he were getting heatstroke. His wife and son were tending to him, fanning him with their programmes. When he felt he had recovered enough, he stepped outside to get some fresh air. Stanley met him there.
“George, I wanted to talk to you. I couldn’t do it. Maybe you can extort and manipulate other people, but that’s not going to work with me. Besides, that girl’s got talent, honestly; I’ve got to hand it to her. Mind you, Owen is a good player too, and in time I’m sure he’ll be one of the best, but I’ve got to sleep with myself at night, George, and if I ever wanted to know another peaceful night’s sleep for the rest of my life, I could not bring myself to do what you asked. As for your words, well, you’ll just do as you want, anyway.”
George hadn’t the strength to offer a lengthy counter argument. “Very good then,” he said. “You’ll sleep well with your conscience at night, but you’ll do so on the street – or in prison.”
* * *
Following the first set of performances, Alexandra stepped outside with her father. They were sipping tea when Alfred approached.
“Well done, Aydy! I’d have never imagined someone could do that well in so short a time! Please, won’t you come play with us? We’d love to have you!”
She considered his offer, but then sneezed. This cold of hers was frustrating beyo
nd belief, but at least she hadn’t sneezed during the performance. Now her cold had returned with full force and she felt, for the second time in her life, she’d have to turn down an opportunity to play. Unfortunately the refusal would be to the same person.
“I’m so sorry Alfred, I’d like to, but I’m really not feeling my usual self today. I hope you’ll forgive me.”
Just then, the professor walked up, interrupting their conversation. “Good news my dear! You’re moving up to the next level!”
“More congratulations!” Alfred said. “Well done!”
For this final round Alexandra would play the full length of Mozart’s Violin Concerto No. 3. When she took the stage again, she even managed to eclipse her first performance.
When the day’s final tally had been drawn up, the judges’ decision was unanimous. Alexandra Delmott was awarded First Prize by none other than the premier of Ontario himself.
George Delmott, frustrated at his son’s inferior performance and unwilling to bear the sight of Alexandra awarded first prize, departed quickly with his family on an earlier train to Windsor. As for Franko, he was fired on the spot. Through great personal inconvenience and expense, he had to find his own way home.
Chapter 16
Alexandra slept fitfully sitting up in her seat on the train ride back to Windsor, her head resting on a pillow next to the window. Aggravating her sleep were several factors – her sitting position, her cold, and of course the visions she had of her uncle, Aunt Clara, Owen, and others. She knew that being in a train, with other people nearby and listening, wasn’t the proper place to reveal the visions to her father. With this settled in her mind, she tried to sleep through the remainder of the train ride. No one dared disturb her.
* * *
“We’re home, Angel. We have to get up and walk home now. Can you manage?”
Alexandra rubbed her eyes and yawned. “Yes, Papa, I can do it.”
Joseph helped her off the train while Emma and Robbie watched. Their parents waited for them on the platform and, due to the lateness of the hour, they all said their goodbyes and left.
Still standing outside the train station, however, was a worried-looking Professor Hergicksen.
“Well Joseph, what a remarkable day it’s been. I do hope the young lady gets well soon. Would you like a ride home?”
“Thank you, professor, but no. I think the fresh air and short walk will do Alexandra good.”
“Well, if you need anything, I’d be more than pleased to help. By the way, I’ve just had a telephone installed in my home, so you can ring me if you need anything.” He handed a slip of paper to Joseph, tipped his hat, and was off.
Alexandra recuperated after a few days, but until then Joseph thought it wise not to ask her questions about any visions she may have had. He decided that in due course the opportunity would present itself and they could discuss any visions. He also had one more reason: even he himself was not sure he’d be ready to hear what she might reveal.
* * *
The first school day of September dawned bright and warm, bringing with it not only a new month, but a fresh start. Alexandra donned one of the new dresses she bought in Toronto and her new mustard yellow sweater, which was now her favourite. Making a single braid in her hair, she bid her father goodbye and left.
When she arrived at the school grounds, Robbie saw her first and went straight over to greet her. She hadn’t seen him in such a buoyant mood in ages.
“Good morning, Robbie!” she said. “Why so happy? Did your father allow you to take violin lessons?”
“Haven’t you heard the news? Owen challenged me to a fight!”
Alexandra scrutinized the boy. There were no bruises on his face. He was smiling. He appeared to have all his teeth and he even walked straight.
“What happened?” she asked.
“I was walking home after my boxing lesson and I happened to see Owen with two of his friends!”
“Really? Go on, what did you do?”
“Well, he challenged me to a fight. I just said no, not interested. He started calling me names, then he took a swing at me but I blocked it. He lost his balance and fell to the ground. I was over him in a second, but before I could hit him he covered his head and face and started crying, ‘No! Don’t! Please!’ ” said Robbie, laughing. “His friends both laughed at him and I let him go. You should’ve seen the look on his face!”
“Wow, Robbie! That’s really great! I’m so proud of you!” said Alexandra. She was glad the boxing lessons had proven worthwhile, but was also glad the boy had the sense of knowing when to stop. “You knew two wrongs don’t make a right! That’s what my papa always says. So, go on, tell me! What did Owen do?”
“I stood back as he got up, but he didn’t try to hit me again. I think he was scared! Then he left with his friends. They started walking away and were joking, but I couldn’t hear what they were saying.”
At that moment, Mrs. Brindle rang the school bell and the students entered the building. They were directed to their classrooms and took their places.
St. Alphonsus was a modest school which served the Catholic community of downtown Windsor. The school was run by a mixture of nuns and highly qualified lay teachers such as Mrs. Brindle.
That familiar school smell of books, chalk, and paper permeated the entire building. Each classroom contained aging double wooden desks made for students to sit in pairs. In the centre of each room was a rather large, ornate wood-burning stove which now sat unused.
Alexandra went to her new classroom and took a seat near the window as directed by the old nun, Sister Rose. After the pupils had taken their places, Sister Rose welcomed them. Well into her fifties and with many years of teaching experience, Sister Rose’s face was creased with fine wrinkles, especially around her mouth and the outside corners of her deep-set, blue eyes. Her lips were thin and the same pallid colour as her face. She wore the habit of the Jesuit nuns, with a long dark robe, a white collar which resembled a giant bib, and her hair was completely covered. A large cross on a chain was the only piece of jewellery to adorn her.
All the nuns were strict, including Sister Rose, but others added an extra measure of cruelty. Alexandra tried to be a good student and avoided being disciplined, but she had to be careful. Being naturally left-handed and having to live in a world of right-handed people, she could use both hands equally well – a skill she developed by being forced to write with her right hand. “The left hand is evil, you must not use it,” she remembered the nuns saying. She always felt they were wrong but dared not contradict them. She reasoned that God doesn’t create anything evil and therefore evil was a choice people made, and that people could do bad things with either hand. In any event, she had to be careful because if the nuns caught a student writing with the left hand, that hand would receive an instant whack across the knuckles from a pointing stick. That wouldn’t be especially pleasant for a violin player.
While Alexandra was pondering this concept of evil, Owen arrived at school – late as always.
“Good morning, Master Delmott,” Sister Rose said with a trace of annoyance in her voice. “Your place is next to your cousin.” She spoke with a dry, parched voice that sounded like she hadn’t drunk any liquid for centuries.
Alexandra cringed. Seating arrangements were made on the first day of school, and each pupil wondered who they’d get to share their desk and be partners with for the whole year. She couldn’t imagine herself sitting next to her cousin all day, every day, all year through. These seating arrangements were permanent and immoveable like a mountain. They could never be changed unless someone moved, died, or the whole schoolhouse got burnt to the ground. She wondered if the nun had heard about the tension between her and Owen and whether she was doing this to heal or to hurt.
“Perhaps you can tell us what’s wrong, Alexandra?” the nun asked.
Accepting the old nun’s invitation to speak, Alexandra rose from her place and cleared her throat.
 
; “Sister Rose, I realized only now it has been a secret hope of mine that I should be reconciled with my dear cousin. We can use this as an opportunity to heal our differences and work together the whole year through – happily, merrily in all the tasks you give us to do. I can even see now how happy we will be, just as happy, playful and chatty as we were when we were little!” Her voice began to rise, gathering energy. She bounced lightly on her feet.
“Owen and I share so much together, our common musical abilities, our family history and so much more! Thank you, Sister, this is an arrangement made in heaven!” she said as she smiled at Owen and took his hands, hoping he would join this temporary alliance.
“Yes, Sister, she’s right!” he said, hugging Alexandra. “We’re going to have a grand time being partners this year!”
Sister Rose stood like a statue at the front of the class. She examined them both with emotionless expression.