‘You mature well, like a good claret, old girl,’ he said and his dry lips extended into a mischievous grin. ‘Beauty is commonplace, my dear, there’s far too much beauty around and not enough spice. You’ve got enough spice to put the entire Indian subcontinent out of business.’ Charlo giggled and shrugged off the lascivious glint that was now magnified through his monocle. Was it possible that love had tamed the old warhorse?
‘Really, Colonel, you’re too generous,’ she protested, smoothing her hand over her thick, silver hair and fixing him with cunning blue eyes that were still hypnotic in spite of the reptilian quality of the eyelids.
‘Come, come, old girl, you know how much I admire you,’ he continued, puffing on his cigarette with more urgency.
‘I don’t deserve your admiration, Colonel.’
‘You deserve it, but you won’t take it,’ he bellowed in exasperation, banging his fist on the table, sending the china jumping into the air as if the Club had just been shaken by an earthquake.
‘Well . . .’
‘You may have buried three husbands already but by God I survived the Great War. Going into battle with you would be the greatest battle of all and the most challenging. Surely you won’t deny an old man one final skirmish?’
‘I’m like a black widow,’ she warned.
‘It’ll take more than an insect bite to send me to the grave. I’m as tough as a rhinoceros,’ he exclaimed in amusement. ‘You don’t scare me, Charlo, you enthral me.’
‘I’m old.’
‘So am I.’
‘Too old for romance.’
‘You don’t believe that.’
‘I should.’
Colonel Blythe chewed on the end of his cigarette for a moment, chuckling at his inability to coax this woman into submission. ‘You’re a fine mare, Charlotte Osborne. I’ll have you in the end.’
Charlo’s handsome face stung with pleasure. ‘The end may be closer than you think for both of us.’
‘Quite, my dear, that is why I do not wish to waste any more time with the chase.’
‘I’ve always found the chase the most exhilarating part of it all,’ she said tartly, clipping the word ‘exhilarating’ with relish.
Colonel Blythe removed his cigarette from between his twitching lips and narrowed his eyes.
‘At this stage in our lives there’s little point in playing games. Good God, old girl, you should anticipate the exhilaration that follows the chase and allow yourself to be caught.’
‘I’ve been caught three times, Colonel, and I’ve been disappointed each time. I’m too old now to withstand another disappointment.’
Colonel Blythe replaced the cigarette and sat back in his chair, temporarily defeated. ‘So, young Cecil Forrester, eh? No disappointment there,’ chortled the Colonel.
‘Not yet,’ Charlo replied sourly. ‘But there will be. There’s always a degree of disappointment in affairs of the heart. The higher the heart flies the further there is to fall.’
‘Young people.’ He sighed. ‘Naïvety is a great blessing, as is ignorance.’
‘Quite. One grows cynical with age.’
‘Only if one allows oneself to, old girl.’
It wasn’t long before the whole Club was talking of Cecil’s courtship of Audrey. The girls praised her choice in patronizing tones, infuriated that he had chosen her above all of them. ‘So typical of Audrey to lose her heart to Cecil,’ commented Agatha and Nelly, masking their jealousy behind saccharine sweetness, ‘she’s so sensible. They make the most delightful couple.’ The Crocodiles discussed it over bridge and found to their disappointment that they had little to criticize. Only Aunt Hilda exposed her bitterness in the thin line of her mouth that seemed more sourly pursed together than usual. She would have liked Cecil for one of her daughters.
Audrey was mortified that everyone knew and avoided the Club. Rose, oblivious that it had been she who had started the tirade of gossip, was appalled by everyone’s interest in something that had nothing whatsoever to do with them and did her best to comfort her daughter. By the time the evening of the dinner arrived Audrey felt so distressed she almost called it off due to a genuine headache brought on by anxiety. But Isla massaged her temples with lavender oil and reminded her of the reason she had accepted his invitation in the first place. ‘You’ll be back in Louis’ arms tomorrow and if you’re clever you can stall Cecil for a little longer,’ she assured her.
‘I don’t think I’ll have the strength,’ Audrey protested. ‘I’m going to speak to Louis tomorrow, I simply can’t go on with this charade. I think we should just tell Mummy and Daddy the truth and face up to it. After all, how bad can it be?’
‘Bad,’ Isla replied bluntly. ‘Mind you,’ she added, ‘if it were me, I wouldn’t think twice, in fact, I wouldn’t have hidden it in the first place. But you’re too decent and too worried about upsetting them. You’re too sweet natured for your own good. If it were me I would have run off into the sunset long ago. You’ve always been a coward, Audrey, that’s why we all love you and that’s why I’ll suffer the wrath of the entire community some day, I just know it.’
Isla was right. Audrey was a coward, she always had been. She was incapable of wounding her mother. She wished she were more like her sister. But, however much she fired herself up in preparation to drop such an unpleasant revelation she knew in her heart that there wasn’t much point. Her parents’ happiness would always come before her own.
When the fated evening arrived, Cecil appeared at the door crisp and polished as an officer on parade. The scent of his aftershave was so pervasive Audrey forgot her headache and suffered a giddy wave of nausea. Cecil was so nervous his hands were clammy with sweat and his expression so grave he may just as well have been going to a funeral. He knew he had overdone the cologne and the knowledge that it was too late to remove it made him stammer with anxiety. He complimented Audrey on her long lilac dress and wondered why the smooth, debonair Cecil Forrester had deserted him just when he needed him most. Isla sat on the stairs biting her nails while her mother and Aunt Edna spied on their parting from behind the curtains in the living room. ‘He’s terribly handsome,’ Rose gushed as she watched them get into the car.
‘He’s a real gentleman,’ said Aunt Edna, ‘and there aren’t many of them around these days.’
‘I don’t think he’s at all right for Audrey,’ Isla interjected boldly from the stairs. Rose and Aunt Edna turned around in surprise. ‘Well, he isn’t. They’ve got nothing in common. Audrey loves poetry and music while Cecil loves the army and chess, they’re most unsuited. The last thing she needs is everyone putting pressure on her.’
‘Really, Isla, what’s all this about?’ Rose asked in bewilderment. Isla stood up and began to march up stairs. Aunt Edna frowned at her sister who responded with a shake of her head.
‘She’ll end up marrying him just to please you and Daddy!’ she shouted down in frustration. She wanted to add, ‘And she’s not in love with him at all,’ but she stopped herself in time, opened the door to her bedroom and stomped inside. Rose shrugged at Aunt Edna as the door slammed.
‘Oh dear.’ She sighed. ‘Whatever’s the matter with Isla?’ Aunt Edna dug her chins into her neck and glanced at her sister knowingly. ‘The green-eyed monster?’ said Rose, automatically interpreting her sister’s expression.
‘I fear so,’ Aunt Edna replied. ‘After all, Audrey’s been enjoying an awful lot of attention and dear Isla has no one.’
‘You’re right, Edna. I’ve been most insensitive. Don’t worry, I’ll put it right,’ she said, relieved that there was no truth in her younger daughter’s outburst.
Once in the car Cecil opened the window wide and allowed the crisp winter air to rush in, alleviating Audrey’s nausea and his anxiety in one pleasant gust. Once the initial embarrassment had passed their conversation gathered momentum and Cecil began to regain his confidence. Knowing that they were away from the hopeful eyes of her mother and aunt, Audrey felt calmer and
although she gazed out of the windscreen recalling those illicit and magical nights in Palermo, she found her fears had been exaggerated. Her heart was Louis’ but there was no reason why she shouldn’t enjoy Cecil’s company as a friend.
Audrey was captivated by the Teatro Colón that dominated the wide Avenida 9 de Julio like a grand, ornate palace from the world of fairytales. Lit up with golden lights that dazzled through the winter darkness it exuded the elegance and sophistication of Paris, echoed the romance of Rome and represented to Audrey the culture and art of a faraway world that one day she would enjoy with Louis. Cecil parked the car and then took the liberty of placing his hand in the small of her back to guide her along the glistening pavements and across the roads. The city enthralled Audrey and she felt excitement rise up her spine and inject her veins with passion until she was laughing and talking without reserve, commenting on the people, their clothes and their jewellery, the grandeur of the theatre and her own, unrestrained exhilaration. Cecil was overcome with happiness. Everything about Audrey was delightful, especially her enthusiasm which he was now discovering for the first time. If he had loved her before it had been a paler love. He looked down at her animated face and felt he was seeing her as no one had ever seen her and he was deeply flattered that she had chosen him to come alive for.
They took their seats in one of the many boxes that hung over the edge of the theatre like gilded lifeboats on the side of a ship and watched the steady stream of people pour in through the doors in their glittering dresses, pearl chokers and diamonds. The hum of anticipation rose on the hot air with the heavy scent of perfume and champagne. Audrey placed her gloved hands on the ledge in front of her and peered down at the men in the orchestra who had now begun to tune up their instruments. Cecil opened the programme and handed Audrey a pair of small opera glasses. ‘Oh, this is so wonderful!’ she exclaimed happily, focusing on the musicians. ‘Oh look, here’s the conductor,’ she hissed as the audience stopped their chatter and dutifully clapped. He took a brief bow before turning to his musicians and raising his arms in the air with great bravado and showmanship. After holding their attention for a long moment he brought his arms down, extracting on the way up the most awesome explosion of music.
From that moment on Audrey was transfixed. The dancers leapt across the stage with the grace of gazelles and her eyes didn’t leave them for a single moment. Cecil, who was not so enchanted by the ballet, watched Audrey through the darkness, taking as much pleasure from the ever-changing expressions on her face as she took from the performance.
‘That was so beautiful,’ she sniffed at the end of the first act. ‘When she committed suicide.’
‘I’m so pleased you’re enjoying it,’ he replied, confounded by the intensity of her reaction. ‘Can I get you a drink? A glass of champagne?’
She nodded and burrowed in her bag for a hanky. ‘Oh dear, I always cry at beautiful music and dancing. But this is so sad.’
‘Don’t be embarrassed, it’s charming,’ he said, handing her a glass of cold champagne and his own silk handkerchief.
‘Isla thinks I’m oversensitive. She’s never cried at anything.’
‘She will when she’s older, I’m sure. She’s a bit young to appreciate this sort of thing,’ he said in a patronizing tone, knowing that age had nothing to do with it. He was thirty and he failed to recognize the magic of music and dance. Audrey laughed lightly because she knew what he was thinking and she remembered her sister’s words: how much does a fish feel? It was quite clear that he was unmoved but she didn’t mind. She knew that Louis would have been sobbing with her, holding her hand and feeling the power of the music as much as she. Cecil’s lack of appreciation was unimportant. She thought of Louis and her laughter melted into a wistful smile. She sipped her champagne and waited for the lights to dim and the curtain to rise so that she could lose herself once again and imagine that she was there with Louis.
It was during the final act, when Audrey’s tears began to spill again, that Cecil placed his hand on hers. At first she didn’t notice, she was so enraptured by the ballet. But then her body stiffened and the blood rushed to her head where it caused her cheeks to throb with embarrassment. She didn’t know what to do. If she were to withdraw her own hand she might cause unnecessary offence; if she were to leave it there she might give him the wrong impression. Suddenly she was unable to concentrate on the performance. Her hand beneath his lay like a dead fish in her lap, wrapped in her silk glove but not impervious to the warmth of his skin. After what seemed an eternity she realized that there was nothing she could do. She had to try to forget it and concentrate as much as she could on the end of the ballet. She tried to convince herself that it was a simple gesture of friendship. After all she had begun to cry again, what man wouldn’t want to comfort a tearful woman? He was only being kind. So she endeavoured to detach herself from the wrist down and focus with all her might on the dancers. Cecil was encouraged that she hadn’t found some excuse to move her hand away. He dared to take it a little further and squeezed it reassuringly. The evening had so far been a great success. When the programme was over Cecil led her down the stairs and out of the theatre to a small restaurant nearby. Audrey was subdued. Cecil believed her too moved to speak. But Audrey’s hand still burned beneath the silk and her head ached with the idea that her boundaries had been violated – and that she had allowed it.
Audrey didn’t want to spoil Cecil’s evening, not after he had made such an effort: it wasn’t fair to dampen his enjoyment. So with enormous effort she smiled and conversed with enthusiasm, desperately trying to sparkle as she had at the start of the night when the anticipation of the show had filled her with exhilaration. Cecil was too thick-skinned to notice the subtle change in her tone, he saw only the surface of her face and the glimmer in her eyes that reassured him of her affection.
It wasn’t until they were standing in the cold on her doorstep that Cecil finally managed to say what he had been intending to say from the moment he had placed his hand on hers in the theatre. ‘Audrey,’ he began. ‘I’ve enjoyed this evening tremendously.’
‘Me too, Cecil, I cannot thank you enough,’ she replied, turning to open the front door, relieved that the evening was over.
‘Yes, you can,’ he replied, suddenly taking her by the arm. She swivelled around in time to notice the fearful intent in his eyes. But there was nothing she could have said to deter him. ‘I want to marry you, Audrey,’ he said smiling triumphantly as if he were sure that she had been longing to hear those words as much as he had been longing to say them. She reeled backwards and had to steady herself by leaning against the door. ‘I know this is a surprise, and you don’t have to give me your answer tonight, or tomorrow night. You can think about it. But I know that you are the woman I want to spend the rest of my life with and I think you know it too. You do, don’t you, Audrey?’ Audrey tried to think of something to say, but her mind was suddenly screaming with so many words that she didn’t know which to choose. Instead she stood unsteadily with her mouth open, staring at him blankly, wanting to break down and cry.
Cecil opened the door for her and watched her walk into the hall. ‘I await your answer with impatience,’ he whispered, aware that the rest of the family were upstairs asleep. ‘Good night.’ Audrey managed to turn around and mumble a confused ‘good night’ as he closed the door and strode, whistling his favourite military march, down the pathway that led onto the street.
She staggered up the stairs, blinking away her horror, gripping onto the banisters to stop herself from stumbling. Isla, who had been waiting in her sister’s bedroom, heard her heavy steps and crept out onto the landing. When she saw Audrey’s pale face and blue lips she immediately thought the worst. ‘Oh God, he jumped on you?’
Audrey shook her head slowly. ‘That would have been a blessing,’ she replied bleakly.
‘What could be worse?’
Audrey raised her eyebrows. Isla folded her arms in front of her. ‘He asked you to marr
y him, didn’t he?’
Audrey nodded and pulled a thin smile. ‘I’ve really gone and done it now.’
‘It’s fine,’ said Isla firmly. ‘You did say no, didn’t you?’
‘I didn’t say anything.’
‘You didn’t say anything?’ Isla repeated, screwing up her nose. ‘Why not?’
‘I didn’t know what to say, it was such a shock.’
‘You could have said “no”.’
‘Oh, Isla, what am I going to do?’ She sniffed, taking off her glove and wiping her tears on Cecil’s silk handkerchief.
‘Come inside,’ she suggested calmly, ‘I think it’s time you told everyone the truth.’
Chapter 8
When Audrey read Louis’ next note, she was stunned to learn that Cecil had told him of his proposal. I am consumed with a burning jealousy, Louis wrote. Although I know such emotions are needless, I cannot help but despise my brother for his audacity. Audrey’s spirits sank even lower. She had wanted to tell him herself, that night in the garden, when they could discuss it together and devise a plan. She thought of Cecil and her resentment mounted. Then she shuddered at the possibility that he might well tell someone else. She had hoped she would wake to discover that it had all been a horrible dream. Now there was only one avenue open to her: she must tell Cecil that she wasn’t in love with him and that she could never marry him. Then she would simply have to confess to her parents that she had lost her heart to Louis and face the consequences.
Hastily she plugged the hole in the brick with her reply and left the station before Juan Julio spotted her lurking about the platform again. Once she had gone the station master shuffled out of his office like a lazy, overfed cat, scratching his groin and glancing around to make sure that there was no one to see him read the next instalment of a love affair that had him hooked like a girl with a romantic novel. He hovered about the wall, twitching with anticipation, glancing sideways up and down the platform. When he was satisfied that Audrey Garnet had well and truly gone he shoved his podgy finger into the hole and eased the white note out like a snail from its shell. He chuckled as he looked for the word ‘love’, which was one of the few English words he could understand and any others that resembled Spanish. It didn’t matter that the content of the letter remained a mystery to him, the secrecy of it enthralled him and he could barely wait for the following day. After replacing it carefully – he wasn’t about to jeopardize his enjoyment by carelessness – he sloped on up the platform to the signal box where he sat out of the cold, picking his nose and pondering on the destiny of these ill-fated lovers.
The Forget-Me-Not Sonata Page 11