The Forget-Me-Not Sonata

by Santa Montefiore

  ‘How are you enjoying married life?’ Emma asked Audrey as they found each other on their way out of the church. It was an awkward question for Emma sensed that Audrey had shelved her dreams and bowed to convention because she noticed that she smiled only on the surface of her face. Audrey clutched her neat handbag with gloved hands and tried not to look at the wooden pew at the back of the church which always reminded her of Louis.

  ‘Lovely, thank you,’ she replied. ‘This church has seen so many weddings, if one could see through the eyes of this building one would see the constant cycle of births, weddings, death. It reminds me of my own mortality.’ Emma thought of Isla and looked across at Audrey with the deepest sympathy.

  ‘Churches remind me of uncontrollable school giggles, a devastatingly handsome missionary who tried to teach us about God but only served to raise our blood pressure and the time I was a bridesmaid and hid under the altar cloth in fear until the wedding was over and a funeral in full flow.’

  Audrey laughed and Emma was pleased that she had lightened their conversation.

  ‘How did you escape?’

  ‘I didn’t. I was found by my father, trembling in the dark, convinced that I would go to Hell.’

  ‘You’ve redeemed yourself since then,’ Audrey remarked, ‘Thomas has made an honest woman out of you.’

  ‘Yes,’ she sighed, then added in a whisper, ‘he has, but sometimes I rather wish he hadn’t. When you think of your own mortality, doesn’t it make you desire to live on your impulses, the way you truly want to live, not the way other people want you to live?’ Audrey looked at Emma and recognized the amber light of resignation in her eyes, making them look suddenly sad and defeated.

  ‘We aren’t masters of our own destinies after all,’ she replied carefully. ‘As a child I believed I could be whatever I wanted to be.’

  ‘And you’re not?’

  ‘Not entirely. But I’m happy,’ she added quickly, glancing over at Cecil who waited for her at the door. ‘Marriage is a wonderful thing and you’ve got a child.’

  ‘Yes, Robert, I’m truly blessed.’

  ‘You are,’ Audrey replied, smiling at her husband who waved at her.

  ‘Cecil’s so handsome and charming, you know, when you married him you were the envy of every woman in Hurlingham, married or not.’

  ‘I can’t believe that.’

  ‘You were and still are. Everyone loves Cecil. Whatever did happen to Louis?’

  ‘I don’t know.’ Audrey shrugged and looked away for fear that Emma would read her expression and know that she too loved another. ‘He sailed away and was never heard of again.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘I think so.’

  ‘Cecil hasn’t even heard from him?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Well, I hope he’s found happiness somewhere nice. I always found him rather intriguing. He was a genius, quite misunderstood. Did you ever hear him play the piano?’

  Audrey nodded. ‘Why don’t you walk with us to the Club? Isn’t it lovely that the weather has changed and spring is here?’

  ‘Yes, isn’t it. I’ll go and get Thomas, I think he needs rescuing, he’s talking to Diana Lewis and Phyllida Bates. They always manage to corner him and poor Thomas is too polite to walk away.’

  ‘I’ve asked Emma and Thomas Letton to walk with us to the Club,’ said Audrey, rejoining her husband.

  ‘Wasn’t she the one who created that huge scandal all those years ago by falling in love with an Argentine boy?’

  ‘Yes, but she’s happily married to Thomas now.’

  ‘Of course, those sort of infatuations never last.’

  ‘No.’ Audrey sighed and thought how little he understood the hearts of women.

  They walked back up the roads strewn with violet petals from the jacaranda trees, breathing in the rich scents of gardenia and honeysuckle that had burst into flower with the warm weather and commenting on the wedding, which united them all in laughter. ‘Imagine the old Colonel, finally making it up the aisle,’ Thomas said in amusement.

  ‘Wasn’t he married before?’ asked Audrey.

  ‘Years ago, but she died,’ said Emma, raising her eyebrows suggestively.

  ‘Well, that’s something they both have in common. I wonder who’ll outlive who,’ said Thomas.

  ‘I have a funny feeling that this time they’ll both want to go together,’ said Audrey. Cecil took her hand in his and chuckled.

  ‘That’s typical of you, Audrey, ever the romantic.’

  ‘Emma’s a romantic too,’ said Thomas, grinning down at his wife with affection. ‘She must be the only person here who thinks that hateful Charlotte Osborne . . .’

  ‘Blythe,’ corrected Cecil with a laugh.

  ‘Charlotte Blythe, the Honourable Mrs Blythe,’ Thomas added with emphasis, ‘had the radiance of a young bride.’

  ‘She did look quite beautiful,’ breathed Emma in admiration.

  ‘The devil has many disguises,’ Cecil interjected humorously.

  ‘I agree with Emma,’ said Audrey, grinning at her. ‘Charlo is a beautiful, elegant woman. If I look half as good as her when I’m an old lady I’ll be very contented.’

  ‘Darling, your beauty comes from within and will never wither,’ said Cecil seriously.

  ‘Thank you,’ Audrey replied, feeling the colour rise in her cheeks.

  ‘That’s what I always say to Emma,’ Thomas said. ‘Why don’t they ever believe us?’

  Cecil shrugged his shoulders. ‘You two have a lot in common, don’t you?’ he said.

  Emma looked across at Audrey and gave a knowing smile. ‘Yes, we do,’ she replied. Audrey said nothing. She linked her arm through her husband’s and lowered her eyes, aware that they had more in common than Thomas and Cecil would ever know.

  ‘I want to say a few words about my new wife,’ began the Colonel, swaying slightly, one hand on the stand for support, the other holding a newly topped-up flute of champagne. It appeared as if his bursting belly would topple him over, but he leant back and used the balls of his large feet for balance. He winked at Charlo and his whiskers twitched with sentiment. ‘We’re old,’ he stated, raising eyebrows that resembled two mangy cats’ tails. ‘There’s no doubt about it. Charlo and I are well into our twilight years but for me life has never been better. I thought the rough fields of the Somme were as much excitement as I would have in my life. But then I met Charlo. I had retired from the army and thought my fighting days were over. But Charlo was one territory I couldn’t leave unconquered. She doesn’t know this, so don’t tell her, but she’s the greatest victory of my career. It took all my reserves, all my energies, all my courage to win her and never have I held such a prize. She’s beautiful, she’s elegant, she’s wise and she’s strong enough to save me from myself. Charlo,’ he said, his small eyes twinkling at her with emotion brought on by the alcohol and a strange magic. ‘I didn’t shed a tear when young Jimmy MacMannus was shot down in the winter of 1916 although I wanted to with every nerve in my body and I didn’t shed a tear when Old Bernard Blythe, my late father, died of pneumonia when I was but a wee lad of thirteen, but you, old girl, have the power to make me weep with gratitude that you have chosen to share your final years with an old battle-weary dog like me. I’ll make you happy, by God I will and, Charlo, old girl, I’m hanging on here for a good many more years. Life is beginning to get interesting and you’ve made me feel like a young man of twenty again. Let us raise our glasses to Charlotte Blythe, Charlotte Hamilton-Hughes-Fordington-Blythe and in case you’re all wondering, this is about as many names as one woman can carry. There will be no more funerals and no more weddings in the life of the new Mrs Blythe because when I go, old girl, I’m taking you with me.’ He raised his glass then added with a smirk, ‘We’re bloody lucky with the weather, it’s snowing in London!’ When the applause died down the music began to play and he swept his new bride onto the dance floor where he pressed his sweating cheek against hers. Charlo noticed that hi
s hands were shaking and her thin lips curled into a tender smile.

  Aunt Hilda looked across at Nelly and wondered whether she’d ever find a husband. She wasn’t getting any younger and there were now few young men available for marriage. Nelly wasn’t getting any prettier either; she had never had the luxury of choice, not like Audrey who had had every man in Hurlingham longing to court her. Nelly had to wait until she was approached and at the moment there wasn’t a decent young man within fifty miles of her. She watched her husband dance with Emma Letton’s little sister, Victoria, and swallowed her resentment as he pressed himself up against her in the most inappropriate way. Poor Victoria visibly cringed and smiled helplessly over his shoulder. Hilda remembered how he had always had an unsuitable fascination with Isla, but now Isla was gone he grabbed the opportunity to dance with any young girl he could lay his hands on. Disgusting, she thought wearily, tragic old man.

  ‘Why don’t you dance?’ she said to her daughter when Nelly wandered over, bored and tired and desperate to go home.

  ‘Because, Mummy, no one’s asked me. Besides, I don’t want to dance with Daddy, he’s drunk too much and is sweating like an old pig.’

  ‘Nelly, that is no way to talk about your father,’ chided her mother frostily.

  ‘You’re a hopeless example, Mummy, the names you call him are much worse.’

  ‘That’s not the point. There must be someone you can dance with.’

  ‘No one,’ she stated firmly. She glanced around at the chinless young men her mother deemed fit for her to mix with and rolled her eyes in despair.

  Audrey was contented with Cecil. He was cheerful, charming, attentive and generous. But they had so little in common. Audrey loved literature, poetry, music and nature while Cecil enjoyed business, politics, economics and people. He wanted the house full of friends all the time while Audrey longed to be alone among the trees and flowers, to ride the gentle waves of her dreams and bring to life those she had loved and lost. Audrey was aware that her husband didn’t understand her, that a large part of her was relegated to the shadows of her personality to emerge only when the room was bathed in candlelight and her fingers danced upon the keys of her piano. But Cecil had given her a secure home, she wanted for nothing, and he tried desperately to please her. But one can’t teach a blind man how to appreciate a painting and Cecil was blind to Audrey’s emotional needs.

  Cecil was also content but he longed to recapture the happiness he had enjoyed in those first intoxicating months of their engagement. Now Audrey seemed lost to him, in her own distant world, surrounding herself with an invisible, impenetrable shell where he was unable to reach her. When she played the piano, those sad melodies in the minor key that she would invent for hours and repeat until his head swam, she reminded him of his brother. The same expression would descend upon her face and her skin would drain of colour and glow with the same strange translucence. He had spent his life trying to understand Louis and now he spent much of it trying to understand his wife. But as much as he endeavoured to take an interest in her poetry and her music, converse about the transience of nature and debate the meaning of life and death, the struggle was a useless one. At times she seemed to be talking a completely different language and there wasn’t a textbook in the world to teach him the vocabulary. He often felt more at home with Rose and Henry than he did with their daughter.

  Rose adored Cecil with the devotion of a mother who has lost a daughter and gained a son. She admired him and looked up to him. He reminded her of Henry when she first met him, the straight back, the square shoulders, the handsome nose and the formal air that she found reassuringly predictable. She enjoyed the way he would sit up with Henry until the early hours of the morning, puffing on a Havana, discussing the sorry state of the economy, berating in hushed voices the dictatorship that both felt would come to a sticky end. Cecil was everything they had hoped for in a son-in-law. Not only had he brought their daughter much happiness but he had also brought happiness back into their lives. She was filled with pride that Audrey had made such a good match although she had never ever doubted her. Audrey had always been the sensible child.

  In order to escape the continuing pain of Isla’s death Rose had to keep busy, so she cleaved to Audrey and Cecil, Edna and Hilda, Henry and her young sons. Busy busy busy, so that she didn’t have time to dwell on the loss. Then Audrey announced one evening in late summer that she was expecting a baby. Never before had Rose been so aware of the cycle of life that continued in spite of Isla’s death. It was then that she found peace of mind, in the certain knowledge that birth and death are two sides of the same coin and that one had to think of the future, not dwell on the past. Rose’s future was now assured, her sons would grow up and fly the nest but Audrey and Cecil would remain close and fill her days with grandchildren.

  Cecil hoped that the birth of their child would give them a common ground on which they could restore their marriage. He also hoped that motherhood would anchor Audrey’s mind and cease its dreamy wanderings.

  Alicia and Leonora were born in October 1954 in the hospital of The Little Company of Mary where their mother had come into the world twenty-four years before. Audrey gazed in awe upon the two creatures God had entrusted into her safekeeping. They blinked up at her with the eyes of strangers in spite of the nine months that she had carried them and felt them moving and kicking inside her belly. Holding them close she studied their little faces, so full of innocence, so heavenly it broke her heart to think of the painful journey of life that lay ahead of them. Alicia was alert and strong with damp blonde hair that clung to her scalp and a voice that already struggled to communicate her opinions while Leonora made a frail mewing noise and clung with all her might to the towel that she had been wrapped in. Audrey was too moved and too exhausted to speak. She cuddled both babies to her breasts, kissing their wet faces and sniffing their skin as animals do. For the first time in years her heart didn’t ache but throbbed with a new energy and a new purpose. The weight of such a responsibility shook her from her dreams. Louis retreated to the back of her mind, taking with him her sadness and her regret so that in the years that ensued she rarely touched the piano except to play jolly songs and nursery rhymes which they would all sing together in the sunny sitting room with the French doors open onto the leafy terrace. Audrey felt Isla’s presence throughout the birth as she watched with excitement from the world of spirit, separated only by the intangible wall of vibrations. Audrey felt happy inside, a warm feeling that filled her whole body as if her blood had turned to golden honey. When Cecil entered he was immediately struck by the change in his wife. She reminded him of that first night at the theatre, glowing with exhilaration and optimism. She smiled up at him.

  ‘Twins!’ he exclaimed in amazement.

  She nodded and her eyes brimmed with tears. ‘This is the happiest day of my life, Cecil.’ She whispered, for the sound of her voice would surely spoil the divine nature of the moment. ‘I feel whole again, as if I’ve completed a circle, as if with the birth of our daughters I’ve come to terms with Isla’s death. For the first time in years I don’t feel pain.’ She spoke with such passion that her eyes shone. Cecil was afraid to look into them because the light that burned behind them was unfamiliar. Audrey withdrew and gazed upon the two beings who had suddenly given her life meaning. Then she held her hand out and Cecil took it. Once again her future was painted with the colour of love.

  PART TWO

  Chapter 12

  The years that followed were swallowed up in the laughter and sunshine of family life so that Audrey was barely aware of the rapid passing of time. Her children brought her much happiness and forged a bridge between herself and Cecil where they were able to meet with total understanding. Cecil recaptured that lightness of being he had so wished for and Audrey’s ghosts were locked away with the candles. Rose and Edna applauded the twins regardless of whether they deserved praise or not while Hilda quietly smouldered in the shadows of her bitterness resenting her ow
n daughters for not being pretty and charming and married with children.

  Cecil found his wife again; the nights were no longer filled with the doleful music of the piano, but with hours free to love each other in, and Audrey, for whom physical intimacy with her husband had been at the best of times little more than a duty, discovered that a new tenderness had grown up between them. She opened her heart and noticed, to her surprise, that there was a place for him there. It had been wrong of her to constantly compare him to the brother who had created sparks just by looking at her. That kind of magic surely wouldn’t have lasted. Besides, she had chosen to marry Cecil and now with hindsight she could appreciate that it had most certainly been for the best. She was happy. Who knows how much unhappiness Louis would have brought?

  Audrey was able to enjoy her babies for Emily Harris, an English nurse shipped over from Brighton, stayed with them for the first couple of years and it was she who suffered broken nights and the exhaustion that comes from the heavy responsibility of caring for infant twins. When she left she was a smaller, greyer version of the rosy young woman who had appeared starched in uniform on their doorstep, full of enthusiasm and energy. As much as she had grown to love the twins, Emily found Alicia uncontrollable and the child sapped her of her juices until she had precious little left for herself. She knew that unless she quit she would grow old before her time, gathering dust on the shelf. She could barely get herself up in the morning let alone go out in her free time and meet people. She missed Leonora dreadfully but she was pleased not to have to deal with Alicia’s tantrums and demands any longer.