The Forget-Me-Not Sonata

by Santa Montefiore

  ‘Because he’s not rich enough to keep me and he’s losing his teeth,’ she replied nonchalantly.

  ‘Perhaps he’s lonely like Loro.’

  ‘Perhaps he is, niña, or perhaps he’s just plagued with ill health and bad luck.’

  ‘He’s ugly,’ she stated, running her long fingers through her corkscrew hair. Sometimes Mercedes had to pinch herself for Alicia reminded her so much of Isla.

  ‘Too much beauty is a bad thing. You’ll learn that the hard way. You can’t hide an ugly nature behind a beautiful face because it will seep into your features in the end. One must never rely on exterior beauty, inner beauty will always shine through when youth has faded.’

  Alicia stroked Loro’s balding back and sighed. ‘I’m looking forward to going to England.’

  ‘The grass is always greener. I know that one. Esteban took lovers but he always came back.’

  ‘He’s still there,’ said Alicia and giggled.

  ‘Yes.’ Mercedes sighed. ‘Perhaps if I married again he’d leave the bed free for my new husband.’

  ‘Or haunt your house and frighten your new husband away.’

  Mercedes studied the child through the narrowed eyes of a Mexican witchdoctor. ‘You know your problem, child?’

  ‘No, what’s that, Merchi?’

  ‘You’re too clever for your own good,’ she said, pinching the little girl on her cheek. ‘You’ll come to a bad end, I warn you.’

  ‘Ouch! I hate it when you do that. I’m not a baby any longer, I’m nearly ten.’

  ‘Shame. You were quite sweet as a baby, age has already ruined you.’

  Alicia laughed and clicked her tongue. ‘Will you miss me when I’m gone?’ she asked.

  ‘No,’ replied Mercedes. ‘Because you’ll come back.’

  ‘I’ll come back for Christmas.’

  ‘With an education to boast of.’

  ‘I’ll teach you a thing or two.’

  ‘You can’t teach an old dog new tricks.’

  ‘You’re not a dog, Merchi.’

  ‘Perhaps not, but I am old!’ She threw her head back and laughed raucously.

  Alicia hopped down from the stool, pushing Loro onto the floor where he squawked in fury and began attacking her ankles. ‘You know what you should do for Loro?’

  ‘Besides putting him in a pan and boiling him for dinner?’

  ‘You should put a mirror in his cage.’

  Mercedes stood speechless with admiration, her hands placed firmly on her wide hips. ‘You’re a genius, niña, he’ll think he has company,’ she said. ‘And your father thinks you need to be sent all the way to England to get an education!’

  ‘No, Merchi! The shock of seeing his ugly, plucked coat should be enough to stop him picking at his feathers like that.’

  ‘Don’t judge him by your own standards, he’s not as vain as you. Just lonely,’ Mercedes chided, waggling her long brown finger. ‘You don’t need an education, child, but a short sharp smack on your bottom.’

  ‘Juicy bottom, juicy bottom!’ squawked Loro, taking a bath in the basin.

  Mercedes pursed her lips together. ‘He didn’t learn that from me,’ she said then narrowed her eyes. ‘Oscar!’

  Three years had passed since Cecil had announced to Audrey that the girls were to be educated in England. Audrey had declared that she would never forgive him and she had meant it. She didn’t rage at him and she didn’t talk about her resentment to anyone else but Isla, whom she communicated with as she rode out over the grassy plains of the pampa, certain that her sister’s spirit was present and sympathetic to her predicament. Instead, she showed her anger and hurt in the polite and formal way that she now treated him. She smiled, she talked, she hosted his dinners and his drinks parties in the manicured garden of their comfortable home, but always with the same distant reserve, as though he were no more intimate with her than their guests. She tamed her wild curls into a severe knot at the back of her head that made her face look longer and sadder and let it down only at night when she covered the piano with candles and played with a ferociousness that no one who knew her would have thought possible. Cecil noticed everything but held fast. He wasn’t going to allow his wife to manipulate him. He knew he was doing the right thing for his children, for their future, and was old fashioned enough to think that it was a woman’s duty to support her husband. He grew accustomed to her silent defiance until it became so much a way of life that he ceased to notice it except during the long nights when, in the large and arid bed of his exile, his body yearned for the warmth of hers and the affection that she had once shown him.

  Finally the day of departure arrived. Cecil had organized for the family to go by boat in order to enjoy a fortnight’s holiday before starting school and Audrey was grateful that she would have that precious time with her daughters. Rose and Aunt Edna arrived at the house in the early morning armed with sweets and shiny new pencil cases filled with crayons for school and embraced the children warmly. ‘Just don’t forget us, will you,’ said their grandmother, hugging them tightly and blinking away her tears. Edna handed Leonora an old saggy rabbit that she had had as a child, because she loved Leonora the best. ‘Look after him, won’t you, he was very dear to me when I was a little girl,’ she said, kissing her grand-niece on her forehead.

  ‘And don’t forget to write often, we want to hear all the news so don’t spare the details,’ said Rose, glancing at her daughter whose face looked pale and strained.

  Aunt Hilda dropped by with Nelly but her hands were empty of gifts. The twins hadn’t expected anything from her but were delighted when Nelly handed them both large jars of dulce de leche. ‘I bet they don’t have this in England,’ she said.

  ‘You lucky things going to England,’ said Edna with forced cheerfulness, ‘they have the best of everything over there. Bring a Christmas pudding back when you come home for the holidays.’

  ‘And some mince pies,’ added Rose. At least they’ll be home for Christmas, she thought sadly; after that they wouldn’t be home until the following Christmas. She sympathized wholly with Audrey and spent many sleepless nights wondering how she was going to survive such a cruel separation, but there was no use in discussing it with Henry, for as far as he was concerned Cecil was doing the right thing. There was nothing quite like an English education.

  Mercedes had refused to say goodbye to the girls for she hated open displays of emotion and considered tears and wobbling lower lips acts of extreme weakness to be avoided at all costs. So she went into town to do the shopping, leaving Loro alone in his cage squawking, ‘dreadful shame, dreadful shame,’ as loudly as he could to betray his mistress’s despair to anyone who would listen.

  The sky was grey with the apathy of winter, casting the port in a gloomy, cheerless light. Audrey boarded the Alcantara with Alicia and Leonora hopping about her with the excitement of two small people embarking on a big adventure. Not only had they never been to England but they had never been on such a large and luxurious ship. Audrey wondered whether lambs sprung around with such enthusiasm moments before they were brutally slaughtered. The bustle of people, porters carrying heavy piles of suitcases, whistles blowing, engines roaring, families weeping and waving, embracing and kissing filled Audrey with panic. It was all so unfamiliar and disconcerting. She hated such noise and chaos and she feared for the safety of her children. But she needn’t have worried for the twins were enchanted by everything and barely spared a moment to say goodbye to their father who watched with fatalistic detachment as his family climbed the gangplank and disappeared inside. Audrey had kissed him coolly on the cheek then stared into his eyes with an icy defiance as if to remind him that this parting was of his own making and that she would never forgive him for it. He hoped time would thaw their estrangement and that she would appreciate the gift he had given them when the girls returned home with beautiful manners and superior educations. In the meantime the gin bottle would warm his wintry spirit.

  The girls raced up
and down the corridors in search of their cabin, squealing in delight. Audrey followed anxiously behind them, hating the airless smell of carpets and detergent and the claustrophobia of being in such a tight labyrinth. She was unable to share her daughters’ optimism, especially as she knew the full horror of what awaited them in England. ‘Mummy, Mummy, Mummy!’ Alicia shrieked with excitement when they entered their cabin. ‘Bunk beds, I’m going on top,’ she announced quickly, throwing her bag onto the mattress and scrambling up after it. ‘Let’s go on deck, Leo.’

  ‘Now wait . . .’ Audrey began, but Alicia was already tearing out of the door with Leonora following obediently behind her. Audrey had no option but to go after them. She had a headache and wanted nothing more than to lie down and close her eyes, but she already saw in her mind’s eye two small bodies falling like rag dolls into the water below, so she tearfully hurried up the maze of corridors, chasing the echo of their voices.

  The deck was throbbing with people waving goodbye to relatives and friends, their cries rising above the low bellow that vibrated up from the bowels of the ship. Audrey discovered Alicia and Leonora at the front of the throng having pushed their way through, leaning on the railings waving with the rest of them. But their father had long since disappeared back to Hurlingham to the empty house that awaited him.

  Audrey stood alone as the liner sailed out of the harbour and into the open sea. The horizon revealed nothing but grey mist as if they were heading for the end of the world. It was then that her mind drifted to Louis and to the misery of the life she had chosen. At once she felt out on a limb and detached, suddenly able to look back at the diminishing coastline of Argentina with an altered awareness. Hurlingham now seemed so small and insignificant when seen from her new perspective; a little puddle in comparison to such a vast sea. Louis had been right, she thought with a racing heart, she was afraid to dream. It was because of that fear that she had married Cecil and let Louis go. If only she had had the vision that he had, to see the world as it really was – an immense space of endless possibilities. Surrounded by strangers heading towards an unfamiliar country far away she dared imagine what her life might have been had she married Louis. They could have gone anywhere. They could have been happy. Never before had she been so aware of the power of free will. Looking about her she felt her spirit inflate with the intoxicating feeling of freedom. How had she been so ignorant of it before?

  So began the two-week voyage that would take them up the coast of South America to Rio, across the ocean to Madeira then to Lisbon, finally arriving in Southampton at the beginning of September. With her change of heart Audrey was able to enjoy the trip and the company of her children without thinking too much of what lay ahead. She would lie on her deck chair in the sun reading and dreaming while the twins ran wild with the other children, splashing about in the swimming pool, trying their hands at deck tennis and watching in amusement as the grown-ups played steady games of deck quoits. Audrey didn’t have to worry about her children for the young were very quickly gathered up by the irrepressible Mrs Beetlestone-Magnus, Mrs B for short. An energetic woman in her late sixties with the round body of an amiable toad hidden beneath long flowing dresses that resembled floral tents, she organized painting competitions and singing contests, fancy dress parties and plays which proved so delightful that before the first week was over even some of the grown-ups were begging to be included. ‘My dears,’ she would say, shaking her chins good-naturedly, ‘if you don’t mind the humiliation of a small cameo role, the children really are very talented, you know.’ And the grown-ups didn’t mind at all. In fact, Mr Linton, an elderly, dignified gentleman with silver hair and a small, tidy moustache, was more than happy to stand the whole way through Wind in The Willows in the back corner of the stage as a most convincing willow tree.

  Mrs B had an unfailing way of keeping the children under control by bribing them with sweets, which she bought from the little shop where they sold Audrey’s favourite Yardley scent. ‘This is what England is like,’ she would say to her daughters, pointing to the old-fashioned lady on the front of the bottle and they would swell with excitement and long for the end of the voyage.

  There was great excitement crossing the equator and those, like Audrey, Alicia and Leonora, who had never crossed it before, had to partake in a ceremony that involved blindfolding the eyes and being covered in foam. The twins shrieked with pleasure while their mother did her best to pretend she didn’t mind. It was all very hearty and Audrey found it distinctly unamusing, especially when they erected a plank and told the children to walk it. Leonora then cowered behind her mother while Alicia leapt on and had to be rescued by two of the passengers who could see from the look on her face that she was fully prepared to jump.

  Every morning there was a sweepstake to guess how many miles they had travelled and the winner would receive a voucher to spend at the shop. Alicia won twice, not because she knew, she hadn’t the remotest idea, but because Mr Linton guessed right every time and on a couple of occasions she peered over his shoulder to see the number he’d written down. Everyone knew she had cheated, but due to her charm and her age they liked her all the more for it. At eleven a steward would appear on deck with a tray of steaming hot Bovril or tea and cream crackers which the twins thought disgusting being used as they were to Mercedes’ sweet dulce de leche and cake. The salty smell of the beef tea caught at the back of Audrey’s throat and she winced as she watched the other passengers drink it with relish. Mrs B, busy rushing around being efficient, would pause by the tray, drain an entire cup, then hurry off to find paints or glue or one of the wayward children who had disappeared, attacking a dry biscuit with her dentures. This morning, however, Mrs B had time to sit down next to Audrey and tell her in her direct manner that not only was Alicia encouraging the other children to behave badly, but also, more criminally, that she was deliberately leaving her sister out.

  ‘But Leonora has said nothing about it to me,’ protested Audrey, who couldn’t believe that Alicia would be so unkind. Mrs B looked at her indulgently; she was a mother herself and a grandmother besides, she knew maternal pitfalls better than anyone.

  ‘My dear Audrey, Alicia is a strong little girl and very spirited. She has a charisma that draws other children to her, this she can choose to use for good or for bad. Like many children who have not yet learned to put themselves in other people’s shoes she is choosing the latter at Leonora’s expense. Might I suggest that you talk to her, otherwise she is going to run into a lot of trouble at Colehurst House.’ Audrey lowered her eyes and the fleeting image of Cecil passed rapidly through her mind. She sighed and put down her book.

  ‘You know, my husband despairs of Alicia’s behaviour, that is why they are being sent to be educated in England.’

  ‘Don’t worry, dear girl,’ said Mrs B, patting Audrey’s hand with her fat, freckled fingers. ‘It’ll be the making of them. Nothing like it in the world.’

  ‘But I want them at home with me,’ she explained sadly.

  ‘Oh, I know, it’s hard, especially if you’re not brought up with it. One just has to bite the bullet and get on with things. I have three daughters and eight grandchildren. My eldest, Sally, lives in Belgrano with her husband who was sent out to Buenos Aires five years ago on business and never came back. I’ve just been visiting. I try to go once every two years. When I look back at the years of boarding school now it seems to have passed in a moment. It isn’t the end of your relationship, my dear Audrey, but the beginning of a new one. They’ll grow up and blossom into young women and you won’t miss a bit of it, I promise you. Then you’ll have years ahead of you to enjoy them. You’ll all appreciate each other more because of the long absence, believe me.’

  ‘It seems so unnatural.’

  ‘Not at all unnatural. It teaches them independence and besides, surely one wants nice English husbands for them. The Argentine is all very well but really, there’s no place like England, is there?’ Audrey didn’t know because she’d never
been there and she wanted to say that she really didn’t mind if her daughters married Argentines or Africans as long as they were happy. But Mrs B believed in the Great British Empire and the superiority of its people. Her eyes shone with pride when she talked about her country and she simply wouldn’t have understood Audrey’s unconventional attitude.

  ‘I’ll talk to Alicia then,’ she conceded, changing the subject.

  ‘Good,’ said Mrs B firmly, pushing herself up from her chair. ‘Sometimes one has to be cruel to be kind. Children need to be told how to behave otherwise they turn into horrid little savages and one wants to avoid that at all costs.’

  ‘Absolutely,’ Audrey agreed meekly.

  ‘Must rush, we’re rehearsing Peter Pan at five.’

  ‘Goodness, isn’t that a bit ambitious?’

  ‘Not at all. Not at all. These children are most gifted. If I could play the piano I’d have them all singing La Bohème.’ Audrey didn’t volunteer.

  That evening when the twins returned to the cabin to change for supper Audrey was waiting for them with a serious look on her face. Alicia immediately felt guilty for she was fully conscious of her actions. She was unable to help herself. The power she wielded was intoxicating. ‘I want to talk to you both,’ began their mother. ‘Sit down.’

  ‘Are we in trouble?’ Alicia asked, ready to spill some more crocodile tears.

  ‘I believe that you’re being unkind to Leonora,’ Audrey said sternly. If it were true Alicia deserved the full force of their mother’s scolding.

  ‘No she’s not,’ interjected Leonora bravely. She glanced across at her sister who smiled at her with such tenderness that Leonora’s little heart swelled with gratitude.

  ‘I’ve been told that you’re leaving her out of all your games.’