When they arrived back down in the cafe, Marcie was pacing about at the bottom of the stairs, arms folded.
“What do you want with us? What’s your reason for coming in here with these men?”
George noticed nearby customers looking on at Marcie’s interrogation. He squinted his eyes at her and frowned, pretending not to understand her question. He liked using this tactic in court or during the negotiations of some business deal. He’d often ask for further clarification, making the person who asked the question feel stupid and uncomfortable.
“I have no idea what you mean,” he said. “Besides, I don’t see how this is any of your concern. These are serious business issues, woman, and business is something you know nothing about.”
“George is closing us down Marcie. He’s selling the land to these businessmen and then the café will be torn down. We have little more than a month to leave.”
She glared at George. “How could you do that to your brother? He’s your own flesh and blood! You’re a horrible man, George Delmott!”
“Woman, mind your tongue.”
“You’ve got to be joking! I’m going to say what I want and I’m going to say it loud and clear and I want to make sure all these good people hear it!” Marcie said with renewed energy. “You, sir, are an egocentric, self-serving, horrible excuse for a human being. You would sell out your flesh and blood, your very own brother and his daughter, in order to line your pockets. Your brother has slaved away in this place all these many years and has made a good living for his family. You cut his livelihood out from under him and then just think you can walk away. I hope everyone finds out what kind of a shameless scoundrel you are!”
George felt his palms sweating and pulse racing as customers looked on. Nevertheless, with minimal effort he could hide his discomfort by making his face as cold and expressionless as one of those statues on Easter Island. However, judging by the faces glowering at him, it would take much more than that. Word would soon spread around the small town, to each person’s family, to everyone’s friends. He was even sure it would be talked about after mass the following Sunday. George, seeking support, turned towards his companions, yet they only stared at him as if he were a monster.
* * *
Midafternoon found Joseph pacing back and forth in front of Alexandra’s school. This would now become a new routine. From now on Joseph would bring her to school and take her home afterwards. Joseph believed some of the townsfolk would probably think it was just an excuse for him to escape the busy café, but they could never know the truth behind his motives – he wanted to protect his daughter.
The schoolyard was filled with children of all ages happily running to their homes. From a distance, Joseph could see Alexandra and Emma walking together. Once Alexandra spotted her father, she parted ways with Emma and came running up towards him.
“Hi, Papa!” she said. “Are you coming with me to my music lesson?”
“Yes, I hope you don’t mind, Angel. I’m sure I can keep myself entertained during the lesson.”
As they walked, the large, fallen leaves of the great sugar maples littered their path and the smell of autumn filled the air. They strolled past white picket fences, elegant homes and gardens all dressed in their autumn finery.
Joseph kicked at some of the leaves as he walked. “I also wanted to talk to you. Your uncle came to the café today.”
“Surely he didn’t have anything to eat or drink,” said Alexandra. “He never does. What did he want?”
“Well, he came through with some other people. They went through the whole place and looked at everything,” he said, sighing. “Your uncle is closing the café and selling the property,” said Joseph. “We’ll have to leave. But don’t worry, the news isn’t entirely bad.”
Alexandra stopped. “Oh, Papa! Why is he doing this? Where will we live?”
“That’s my next news,” he said. “We’re going to build a new house on London Street and also a new restaurant right next door. It’ll be much more than a café and things will be much busier. We’ll start building first thing in the spring when the weather breaks. In fact, I bought the property quite some time ago and was waiting for the right time to begin construction.”
“That part is good news, but what about Marcie? And Bill? And Sophie? What’s going to happen to them?”
“Well, I can’t do anything about them now, unfortunately. If they find other work by the time we open for business, I’ll have to hire new staff. In any event, it’s the best we can do in a bad situation. In the meantime, the Maestro has plenty of room in his house for us. I explained everything to him, and he said we can stay with him as long as we want.”
Alexandra and Joseph continued walking. “Papa, I never knew that people could be as mean as Uncle George. I know that when you were little, Pépé gave you and him new quill pens. Uncle George lost his pen, but one day when you weren’t home, he took yours in the back garden and used it to stab at a piece of wood. He kept doing it until the nib broke off.”
“Is that a fact?" he said, recalling that he couldn’t have been any more than ten when the incident happened. “I’d almost completely forgotten about that. What other things do you know?” Joseph was impressed at his daughter’s knowledge, and often wondered how much she really knew about the people who’d heard her play. It seemed she was like a vault locking away many secrets, with only her knowing the combination to enter, as well as the true value of what was inside. He wondered if she entered this vault from time to time to amuse herself.
“Well, I know that when you and Uncle George were teenagers you both took a farm wagon apart and put it back together on the roof of someone’s barn!”
Joseph burst out laughing. “Your uncle and I got along well in those days! That was old man Gagnier’s barn! I wish I could’ve seen the look on his face when he woke up the next day!”
Alexandra laughed.
“You do know lots of things about other people, don’t you?” asked Joseph.
“Oh, yes, Papa, I know many things!” she said, smiling shyly and clasping her hands together.
“Things such as…?”
“But Papa! It’s not polite to tell secrets about people! If I tell, it’s the same thing as telling gossip. That would make me one of those horrible gossips – even worse than Mrs. Labonte or Mrs. Tellier! You know I don’t like gossips; they are the most dreadful people in the world, gossiping all day and every day, all night and every night about this and that. I hear them every day in the café and they make me crazy! They’re like a bunch of old chickens in a henhouse, cackle cackle cackle!” she said, flapping her elbows like a bird.
Joseph laughed at her antics. “All right, Angel, I agree with you. I won’t pry.”
Chapter 22
At dawn the following day, Alexandra awoke to the tapping of rain falling on her window sill. The day was damp and the ground sodden, yet the falling raindrops created a melodic, soothing pattern, accented only by the different objects they struck after their descent from the heavens. She also recalled, with pleasure, how drenched she was on that day five months ago when she first met the professor – and it brought a smile to her face. Despite the weather, her bedroom was quite warm and comfortable. It was obvious that her father had lit the big stove.
She donned her housecoat and trundled down into the café. “Papa! Are you here?” she called. No answer.
Looking toward her father’s table, she saw two empty coffee cups atop a mess of papers. She picked the cups up, intending to take them to the kitchen. She paused. Each cup was warm. She noticed the assortment of papers on the table. These were certainly not the usual financial papers her father always worked on. These papers had random capital letters, small numbers and geometric symbols handwritten on them. Certainly her father would not write such things as he was a man not given to making such doodlings.
Sighing, she brought the cups to the kitchen and went upstairs, one lazy step at a time. Rather than going to her own
room, she stopped at the door to her father’s room. His door was open a crack and she tapped on it with her knuckle. No answer. She eased the door open, peering in to see if anyone was there. These days she never went into this room; she had no reason to. However, when she was a little girl, she used to like running into her parents’ room and jumping up and down on their bed to wake them. They’d usually groan at first, but she’d be insistent. In the end, they’d tickle her in revenge and she’d squeal with peal upon peal of giddy laughter. It was a merry way to start the day, and she missed those times – and her mother.
Entering the room, she looked around at the large four-poster bed, the ornate vanity with mirror, the Queen Anne’s divan, the changing screen.
Not escaping her attention were two photographs standing on the night table. One of them was of her mother. In that sepia toned photo, she had a solemn look on her face, as was typical of formal photographs, but with just a hint of the same mischievous smile Alexandra herself was known for. She picked up the photo and examined it carefully. She noted her mother also had the same oval face as she, the same eyes and hair, the latter of which made a striking contrast to her fair skin. With a great deal of care she placed the photo back down on the table. She couldn't help wondering if her father looked at it every night before he fell asleep.
In the second photo were all three family members. Alexandra even remembered the day the photo was taken. She was four years old. It was so hot that day in the studio and she had to wear a dress with a stiff collar that nearly choked her. To that day she hated wearing collars or anything else tight around her neck. The photographer was trying to be patient, but Alexandra remembered getting anxious and the poor man’s patience was wearing thin. In any event, the job got done and the moment became frozen in time forever.
She replaced that photo too and went to her mother’s vanity. Carefully opening a drawer, she was startled to see that her mother’s jewellery was still there, along with her necklaces and tiny, ornate bottles of perfume. She examined the jewellery and removed the cap from a bottle of perfume, daintily holding it between her thumb and index finger. She raised it up to just under her nose and savoured its scent for a few moments. She smiled, replaced the cap and put the bottle back in the drawer.
She looked at all these little things, trying to reason why her mother would have left them all behind. They certainly weren’t large, in fact they could easily be packed in an overnight bag. Alexandra wondered if her mother had left them behind for her. Despite the number of times she played for her father, there was nothing in his memory which could explain, with any amount of certainty, why her mother had left. His memories were full of regret at her departure even to this very day, yet Alexandra knew he possessed the unique ability to hide his feelings and emotions under that mask he presented so well to the outside world.
At that moment, Alexandra could hear the front door of the café open. She ran to her room, got dressed, and went downstairs. When she entered the café, her father was there with Sir Charles – who was already sipping on a cup of coffee. The table was clean and the strange papers were gone.
“Good morning, Sir Charles, how long have you been here?” she said as she approached him at his table. He interrupted his coffee in mid-sip and placed it back down on the table.
“G’day, m’lady! Oh I’ve been here for a while already; I arrived early and your father’s been keeping me company.”
“I’m sure he enjoys the company, Sir Charles! How much longer will you be in town?”
“I’ll be here until Thursday. Oh that’s the day after tomorrow already, isn’t it?” he laughed. “However, until then I’ve got plenty of things to do – chief amongst them visiting you fine people in the café as often as possible.”
“Oh, Sir Charles! I’d really love to play a song for you! May I? Please?”
“My goodness, child! Relax! Rest assured, there’ll be plenty of time for that later.”
* * *
Sir Charles Stanley did indeed have many things to do in Windsor. One item of business he desperately needed to tend to was to pay a visit to the legal offices of Delmott, Cord & Brewster. Carrying a small parcel, Stanley arrived at the law firm unannounced that Tuesday morning. Having been told by the secretary that George Delmott was in a meeting, Stanley promptly dismissed that excuse as rubbish. He walked right into the office where he found Delmott sitting alone at his desk.
“You could’ve at least knocked,” said Delmott.
“Here’s your package,” said Stanley, tossing it onto the desk. “Make sure you follow the instructions exactly.”
“Took you long enough to deliver it,” said Delmott.
“You’re lucky you got it at all. That concludes our business, Mr. Delmott. I never want to see you or hear from you again.”
“I assure you, you won’t. Don’t forget your payment,” said Delmott, handing Stanley a wad of money.
Stanley took the money and threw it in the air, and the bills flittered to the floor. “I don’t want your money. Good-bye, Delmott, and good riddance,” he said as he walked out the door.
When Stanley left the office, he recomposed himself before speaking to the bewildered secretary. “Thank you very much ma’am,” he said, tipping his hat. “I’m so very sorry to have troubled you. Have a good day.”
* * *
Wednesday morning found Alexandra up extra early. It was her 13th birthday and she couldn’t wait to start the day. In fact, she reasoned that starting a new year was much better than starting a new day. It was like a clean page in a book – three hundred and sixty-five clean pages in fact – and there she could fill it up with endless possibilities. When she arrived downstairs, Joseph and Stanley were there, and Marcie had been there long before them both. They all lined up as if greeting royalty.
“Happy Birthday, Angel!” said Joseph, beaming.
Stanley chimed in next. “I couldn’t depart for England without first bestowing my very best birthday greetings to you!”
“Mon petit oiseau is all grown up today! Bonne fête! Alles Gute zum Geburtstag! Happy Birthday!” said Marcie, hugging the girl tightly.
“Oh thank you all so much! I must still be sleeping, really, this all has to be a wonderful dream, and I don’t want to wake up!”
“I assure you it’s not a dream,” said Stanley.
“Sir Charles is right! As a matter of fact, we’re closing the café early today. Also, there’ll be no music lesson for you as the Maestro is coming here, as well as Robbie and Emma. We’re having a little party.”
“Oh thank you so much, Papa!” she said, springing up and down. She hugged him and kissed his whiskered cheek. “This is going to be the best birthday ever!”
In short order she was ready and on her way to school, accompanied by Joseph. As they walked, the morning sun shone radiant against the magnificent yellows, reds and oranges of the trees along the usual route to school. Alexandra skipped a bit as she walked and occasionally bent down to pick up and admire a perfect specimen of a golden maple leaf.
“Do you think autumn is a good time to have a birthday, Papa?”
“Honestly, I haven’t given the matter much thought. I suppose it’s just as good a time as any. Besides, as long as you’re here, it doesn’t make much difference.”
“I don’t mind it. We never have a choice as to when we’re born or to whom we’re born to. I’m just glad I was born at all, and I’m glad I was born here to you and mama. I only wish she could be here to celebrate my birthday. Everything would be so perfect! Do you wonder if she’s thinking about me today? Could she have completely forgotten?”
Joseph sighed, his pause weighing heavy in the air. “You’ve been asking me the same question every year since you were four. Angel. I’m quite sure she hasn’t forgotten about you. Honestly though, I can’t make excuses for your mother.
“Yes, Papa, of course you can’t. But sometimes I think that Mama died. If so, it would be so wonderful to think that the very l
ast words she uttered were, ‘I love you, Alexandra!’ Oh, it would be so tragic, yet wonderful to believe!”
“I can’t say I haven’t thought of that myself,” he said as they approached the school. “However, we’ll make the most of what we have. Now I see your friends coming, so I’ll go home. We’ve got to get things ready; there’s so much to do.”
Alexandra smiled and, hugging her father as tight as a belt, kissed him on the cheek and bid him goodbye.
Aydy's Fiddle - The Memory Thief Page 17