Upon entering the school grounds, she was greeted by Robbie and Emma. Owen was nowhere to be seen, but that didn’t seem strange. The boy’s habit now was to arrive at school mere minutes before the bell rang, which gave everyone the impression that he didn’t care to spend any more time than necessary in useless socializing.
Regardless, Alexandra excused herself from her friends and purposefully sought the boy out. After several minutes she saw him shuffling along toward the school, alone, from the direction of his home. She went straight up to meet him.
“Hi, Owen! Today’s my birthday!” she said as he entered the schoolyard. They both stood alone, out of earshot of the other students.
“Yeah, I know,” he said.
“I wanted to see you. My father has planned a party for me today after school, and I would really like it if you could come. Owen, I want us to be as we were when we were little. I really miss those days. You know, my father says that the future is a really big place with so many grand and wonderful possibilities. I believe him, and I can’t bear the thought of going into that big place with these problems standing between us.”
Owen stood there in the schoolyard listening to her, but looked down at his feet, using the toe of his shoe to play in the dust on the ground. Alexandra was dismayed he wouldn’t look at her, yet she continued with her olive-branch overtures.
“Also, I can’t see any reason why things have to be so bad between us. I can only imagine that events in your life are making you miserable.”
“What makes you think so?” he said, glancing up.
“It’s not hard to figure out! Anybody can see it. For example, take what happened at the Premier’s Competition. Owen, it was only for fun. I never expected to win it, the Maestro entered me into it and I went because I wanted to play and meet other musicians. Your father wanted you to go too, but you didn’t really want to. You’re getting so much pressure at home, so much pressure to succeed, and you’re finding it all too difficult. Anyway, I want my cousin back! No, that’s not correct. I really want my cousin back! He was always like the brother I never had. Maybe in some time I could even play a duet with him. I know he’s a talented musician! Please, Owen, let’s just forget all those bad things. Please come to my party. I want you there!”
“I’ve been really horrible to you, Alexandra. I can’t understand why you’d want me at your party. I’m a bully, and everybody knows me as one. Besides, I don’t know that my father would allow me to go. Are Robbie and Emma going to be there?”
“Yes, of course. But that doesn’t matter. They’d like us all to be friends again. Everything in the past is water under the bridge. Please come?”
Owen stood quiet for a few moments, still not raising his head. “I’ll think about it,” he mumbled.
“Very good. I hope the answer will be yes!” She smiled at him though he was still looking down at his feet.
When it was time for school to begin, the bell sounded and the students filed inside. Upon entering her classroom, Alexandra was surprised at what she saw. The old nun had put up a few decorations and even baked a cake. Alexandra vaguely remembered having a dream about this very situation and thinking back to that wonderful, yet horrible day when she played for the class. She even remembered the sickly-sweet words of the old nun. The embarrassment she’d suffered that day had never completely gone away, and today it returned for a horrible encore.
Once the students took their seats and said their morning prayers, Sister Rose began, heaping unwelcome praise upon Alexandra. To further add to her irritation, Alexandra noticed that Owen was sitting in his place doodling something in his book with a pencil. He appeared to be disconnected, his little drawings taking shape along the margins.
“Hello, Aydy, and happy birthday!” said Sister Rose, exposing her yellowing set of imperfect teeth.
Alexandra didn’t know what was worse – having the nun make a big fuss over her, or tolerating her using her nickname. Sister Rose had never celebrated anyone else’s birthday. Alexandra hated this kind of attention. She wished she could just quietly disappear, perhaps become part of the walls, or the furniture. Sinking into and becoming part of the floor would be even better.
“Thank you, Sister Rose for the birthday greetings and for decorating the room so nicely. I honestly don’t feel I’ve done anything special to deserve it, but thank you just the same.”
The old nun stood in front of the class as if she were analysing Alexandra’s words. “Now I hope everyone heard that. You’ve just heard the words of a very humble person. The Good Lord enjoys humble people and despises anyone who thinks too highly of themselves. He has seen fit to bless us all with a very devout Catholic, exceptional student and talented musician. You should all strive to be like her.”
The old woman dryly enunciated each word and began clapping her hands and, with a bit of hesitation, the other pupils did too, including Emma and Robbie.
“Thank you again for your kind words, Sister Rose. However, I must respectfully disagree with you. I feel I am not worthy of such praise; I haven’t done anything special. I just happen to love music, but anyone can love music.”
Meanwhile Owen, who had been doodling throughout the entire discourse, smiled and placed his pencil down. He looked straight at the nun, a look of satisfaction on his face.
“Is something the matter, Owen?”
“She finally said something that makes sense, Sister.”
“Master Delmott, why must everything you say always be so rude?”
“But Sister Rose, I can’t understand why you’ve gone to all this trouble for her. She really doesn’t deserve it. She’s nobody important; moreover, she’s a fraudster and a liar.”
In her mind’s eye, Alexandra could see Owen standing in a vast field, laughing and tearing to shreds her invitation and letting the pieces scatter about in the wind.
“How dare you say that about your cousin!”
“Sister Rose, today marks the anniversary of the birth of a liar and thief. To my mind, that’s no reason to celebrate. Firstly, she has no mother. There’s got to be a reason for that! Now it would be understandable if her mother had died, but no,” he said. Then he turned to Alexandra and continued. “She left her and her father in order to get a better life for herself. And who can blame her? She couldn’t stand the whiney little girl and her boring restaurant-keeper father – or whatever he is. He treated his wife like a slave in that café. My parents talk about it all time! He made her do all the work and refused to hire anyone. So if her mother really loved her, she’d be here right now with her on her birthday, but of course she isn’t. That’s proof in itself! She couldn’t stand her, so she left to get a better, more exciting life – a better life with a common, foulmouthed womanizing sailor! Can you imagine?”
Alexandra sat not only in numbed disbelief at Owen’s words, but at the spiteful and venomous way in which he spoke them. She imagined him as a lawyer levelling his accusations against his opponents or, even worse, one of those politicians her father had told her about.
The old nun stood motionless in front of the class, solid as a monument. “Owen Delmott!” she finally barked. “Haven’t you got any decency at all?”
“It’s true, Sister Rose! Alexandra’s mother left them to go away with a sailor who used to come in to the café whenever he visited town. One day, she just got fed up with everything. She up and left, and near as I can figure, she never visits, never writes, never does anything. If Alex’s mama doesn’t even love her, how could anyone else? No one can stand her!”
“Owen Delmott! You apologize to your cousin immediately! How can you be so cruel – especially when it’s her birthday!”
“Sister Rose, I cannot and will not apologize to that witch! Truly she is a witch, did you know that?” he said, his voice becoming a sinister, whispering hiss. “Shh! She’s a keeper of secrets! Every time she ‘plays’ her violin, she gets little secrets from people! She collects them all, and she knows everything about every
one. Sister Rose, she probably even knows secrets about you!”
Alexandra was struggling to remain composed, a wretched sickness gnawing away in the pit of her stomach. Thinking back, she was sure she hadn’t said anything to anyone. She turned to look at Emma, who shrugged her shoulders and frowned.
The old nun spoke again. “Owen, you are clearly a miserable, angry boy who is given to making silly, ridiculous fabrications. How absurd! A keeper of secrets! I’ve never heard such rubbish in all my life!”
Alexandra raised her hand and looked patiently at the nun. “Sister Rose, may I speak?”
“Well of course you may speak my dear!” the nun said, softening her voice.
“Sister Rose, I must confess that Owen really is telling you the truth. I do get visions of people, yes, and I get them every time I play my violin. However, Owen is only telling you half the story! He missed the most important part! What he’s not telling you is that I also have wings hidden under my clothes and that I’m really, in all truth, a bird! Why didn’t you mention that part, cousin?” she said, turning to face Owen. “In fact, I can sing and fly like a bird too! I fly around the whole town and county, peeping into all the windows and watching all the good and bad little boys and girls, then I report all this to Father Christmas so he can make his list. I’ve been watching Owen Delmott very closely and I can tell you he’s getting a lump of coal in his stocking for Christmas this year!”
The children sniggered and giggled. Even the old nun, prim and proper though she was, raised a hand to her mouth to restrain a laugh.
“Alexandra!” the nun said. “Such a fanciful story! It’s about as believable as Owen’s.”
Alexandra grinned.
“What about her mother?” said Owen, his voice full of scorn.
“Well, you’re only partly right there too, Owen,” said Alexandra. “After she ran off with the sailor, I was so upset that I flew everywhere hunting her down. When I caught her, I pecked her to pieces and ate her. That’s the reason she never visits or writes!”
Several students sniggered, and the old nun raised the corners of her mouth into a smile, arms folded across her chest. Owen slumped down in his seat.
“Enough of this nonsense, the both of you!” said Sister Rose. “Let’s get down to work.”
In the end, Alexandra could take comfort in the fact that Owen was widely known to be a liar, and she reasoned that this particular story would come across to everyone as a futile attempt to malign her. Yet, she still wondered how he could have found out about the visions. Surely, Emma wouldn’t have said anything, and her father definitely wouldn’t have. She wondered if her uncle knew that she had visions and he told that fact to Owen. Worse than the knowledge of the visions, though, was his story of how her mother left – if it were, in fact, true. However, his story made no sense to her. Her father had always told her that her mother left the family in order to get some rest. She thought she must have been really ill, but would never run off with anyone, especially a sailor. She dismissed Owen’s story immediately, believing it to be the product of a cruel, spiteful boy.
Chapter 23
The only disappointment Alexandra had with her party was that Sir Charles had missed her play her violin. By the time he arrived she had already finished playing and had forgotten to play for him.
From up in her bedroom the following morning she could hear the brass bell on the door clanging. She was already up and getting dressed by then, and could hear people talking downstairs. She was anxious to finish getting ready so that she could go down and join them.
When she arrived downstairs in the café, Stanley was standing near the counter talking to Marcie. His packed suitcase sat near the door.
“Today’s the day, right Sir Charles?” she interrupted.
“I’m afraid so my dear.”
“He was becoming a regular here!” said Marcie, chiming in.
Alexandra then switched on her best British accent.
“I’m going to miss you, Sir Charles. I miss you even now and you haven’t even left! Oh wait! Before you leave can I play you a song, please? Our agreement, remember?”
“What about your breakfast? We have to hurry and get to the train station!”
“It won’t take more than a minute!” she said, clapping her hands together and bouncing on her feet.
“Dear Lady! Did you know it’s actually good to leave some business unfinished? This way we have something to look forward to! If we were to finish all our business today, then all matters between us are closed and we have nothing to look forward to, no loose ends to tie up! So yes, of course I do want to hear you play, but I want to hear you when you come to visit me in London. Understood?”
Alexandra pouted. “Well, I do want to come see you in the big London, so let this be our new agreement – I shall play for you there.”
“All right then, agreed!” said Stanley, chortling. “Now let’s eat and be on our way!”
Marcie stood nearby. “When Alexandra comes to visit you, send her home with some fine silk, would you? I’d like that as a souvenir. Don’t forget to write us, and don’t forget the little café!”
“I can’t forget. I’ll miss you all, but no need to worry. As we said before, we’ll write each other often. Oh wait! I have a little something for you, Miss Alexandra!” Stanley walked over to his bag and returned with a small brown parcel.
“For me?”
“Yes, it’s just a small gift. I should have given it to you yesterday, but here it is nonetheless.”
Alexandra smiled and began peeling back the brown paper, which contained a small book. She examined the cover. “Oh thank you, Sir Charles! I love poetry, and I’m sure this will be a wonderful book! I’ve heard about this poet, Robert Browning, and I shall read it from cover to cover!”
“You’re most welcome, my dear! Browning is one of our finest and most respected poets. I hope you’ll enjoy his works.”
“Yes I will, Sir Charles, and thank you thank you again, ever so much!” she said, pleased he had the foresight to get her a gift.
Joseph joined them, and right after breakfast they left for the train station. They walked Stanley up to the train, even right up to his first class seat where he settled in comfortably. “Safe travels Stanley, and thanks again for coming all this way. Please give our best regards to your missus,” said Joseph, tipping his hat.
“Goodbye, Sir Charles. Write often and don’t forget us!” sniffled Alexandra as she bent down to hug and kiss the man.
After they left Stanley, they watched as the great steam engine pierced the morning sky with a plume of black soot. The train slid down the long silvery tracks, the usual fanfare of whistles blowing and bells clanging, taking its precious cargo of humanity into the distance.
Alexandra and her father watched the train disappear before walking away from the empty platform. “I suppose if we hurry we might just get you to school before 9:00 a.m.”
When Alexandra entered her classroom, the decorations had been taken down and everything was back to normal, except for one thing – Owen was absent, his seat next to Pierre, empty. Alexandra was delighted, but confused. Owen was usually late, but he was never absent. Did his father chastise him about the goings-on of the previous day and so decided to keep him home? Did he get into another fight, but this time with someone much stronger? Perhaps he’s ill? The questions burned in her mind all day – so much so that she could barely concentrate on her studies.
* * *
Joseph returned to the café and sat at his usual table sipping coffee over the café financial ledgers. While he was working, one of George’s partners in the legal firm walked in the door – Clive Brewster.
After quickly scanning the café, Brewster walked over to Joseph at his table.
“Hello, Clive. What brings you here?” asked Joseph.
“I’ve got some bad news for you, Joseph. I’m here to tell you that your brother suffered what appears to be an attack of apoplexy last night – or
at least that’s what the doctors think. He’s been taken to hospital where his condition is being monitored round the clock.”
“My goodness! Please, please sit down and tell me more!” said Joseph, motioning to an empty chair. “What exactly happened?”
“The doctors don’t really know," said Brewster, sitting down. “It’s too early to tell. He collapsed at home last night after dinner and was taken to hospital almost immediately.”
“I’m sorry to hear that. I know we’ve had our differences, but –” Joseph thought a moment before continuing. “I know. I shall go there right away and visit him.”
“Don’t. Clara doesn’t want him having any visitors. Besides, there’s nothing you can do. Everything is in the hands of the doctors – and God,” Brewster said, a grave tone darkening his voice.
“What do you suggest I do?”
Aydy's Fiddle - The Memory Thief Page 18