The Forget-Me-Not Sonata

by Santa Montefiore

  Chapter 16

  Florien wasn’t very talkative. Not that Alicia noticed, she was far too busy telling him about herself. Leonora fell naturally into her usual role, trying to be kind and put him at his ease – she was used to her sister dazzling people until their tongues grew thick and heavy and barely worked at all. She knew that was what had happened to Florien even though Aunt Cicely had said that he was a sullen boy. He was just shy, she thought, and overwhelmed.

  He led them inside the caravan and watched mutely, barely able to take his eyes off Alicia. While Leonora was enchanted by the pastoral charm of the hand-woven rugs and blankets, the bunk bed that was attached to the wall and the odd photographs and pictures stuck roughly over peeling paintwork, Alicia was amazed at the small dimensions of their home and exclaimed in patronizing tones that she couldn’t believe real people lived in places such as this. ‘I mean, it’s like a house in a fairy tale. You could be a family of goblins. It’s very dear, isn’t it, Leo?’ she trilled, while her sister cringed and tried to make up for her tactlessness.

  ‘Oh, I think it’s beautiful. I’d love to live in such a pretty house and besides, you can take it anywhere you choose, much more fun than a house made of bricks.’ But Florien wasn’t offended, he was far too awe-struck even to hear what she had said.

  ‘Show me the farm,’ Alicia demanded, striding out of the caravan into the sunshine, which had temporarily emerged from behind a heavy grey cloud. ‘Do you have lots of animals?’

  Florien nodded.

  ‘What, cows, pigs, goats?’

  Florien nodded again and began to walk off in the direction of the little gate through which they had come in. Alicia turned to Leonora and said in a deliberately loud voice, ‘I think he’s lost his tongue.’

  ‘Alicia . . .’ Leonora protested, but her sister threw her head back and laughed.

  ‘Or perhaps he doesn’t have one.’ This he did hear and he felt the heat prickle the skin on his face. He kept walking in front of them so they wouldn’t notice. They followed him through a large walled vegetable garden which was old and crumbling, although parts of the ground were obviously well looked after by Panazel and Florien.

  ‘You must work so hard,’ Leonora said, hurrying to catch up with him. ‘This place is enormous.’ When he didn’t reply she continued, determined to show her sister that with a little encouragement he would open up and talk to them. ‘In the Argentine we have to buy all our vegetables. We have a nice garden, though, and our grandmother has an orange orchard, which smells lovely in summertime. I’d like to help you in the garden, it’s a lot of work for only two people.’ At this Florien looked across at the eager face of this rather plain-looking girl and he felt his confidence return.

  ‘Three people,’ he said in a surprisingly soft voice, opening the gate in the wall, which led into a yard surrounded by farm buildings.

  ‘Oh, your mother helps too? Still, three is a small number for such a big place.’

  ‘It’s all falling down,’ said Alicia, rejoining them. ‘Now where are the animals?’

  ‘But it’s so pretty,’ Leonora commented with a sigh. Alicia screwed up her nose in annoyance. She was getting rather tired of her sister and looking forward to making new friends at school.

  Florien wandered across to a fence that opened into a grassy enclosure. To Alicia’s delight it was alive with chickens and one very large, proud cockerel who strode through them pecking at their feathers just to remind them who was boss. ‘How do you kill them?’ she asked without the slightest inhibition. Florien climbed onto the fence where he sat and looked down at her imperious face. He felt more confident at that height.

  ‘We break their necks,’ he replied nonchalantly.

  ‘Ah, so the gypsy boy can talk!’ she said. Leonora was horrified. Knowing that there was little she could do to help him she took off to explore the dusty buildings on her own.

  ‘How do you do that?’ Alicia continued, watching her sister disappear inside an old barn. Florien made a twist and pull gesture with his hands. Alicia’s eyes glinted in the light just before the sun disappeared behind a cloud.

  ‘Show me,’ she said.

  Florien shook his head. ‘I’ll only kill to eat,’ he replied.

  ‘Well, Aunt Cicely said she wanted a chicken for tomorrow.’

  ‘I’m not allowed.’

  ‘Don’t be such a baby.’

  ‘I can’t.’

  ‘Go on!’ she insisted. ‘While Leo’s not here to sneak. I can assure you I won’t tell anyone. It’ll be our secret.’

  ‘I don’t know.’ Florien shook his head and his eyes darkened as a heavy rain cloud settled above them.

  ‘I don’t believe you can do it,’ she goaded. ‘You’re too little. How old are you?’

  ‘Twelve,’ he replied quietly, turning to watch the chickens. Alicia sensed she was winning and continued to wear him down.

  ‘I’m ten and if I knew how to kill a chicken I wouldn’t be afraid to do so. You’re two years older than me and a boy and yet you’re afraid you’ll get into trouble. Who’ll tell? I won’t. We can bury it in the garden and no one will ever know. Don’t you want to have a secret with me?’ That was about as much as Florien could take. Alicia watched him jump down from the fence and remain a moment staring at the chickens who pecked at the grass oblivious of the boy who stood ready to kill. He slowly rubbed his hands together in preparation. He had broken many necks before, but never with such a beguiling audience and he didn’t want to make a mistake. If the chicken didn’t die immediately he would have failed and he’d never be able to face this imperious girl again. He hated her yet he longed for her admiration. He could feel her eyes upon him, penetrating his skin and burning his insides so that he was acutely aware of every muscle in his body. He had never wanted to impress anyone so much in his entire life. Not even his mother, whom he adored. He crept across the yard with the agility of a cat. A few heavy drops of rain fell about him but they did not deter him. He had to concentrate. He didn’t want to make a fool of himself chasing chickens around the yard. He set his eyes on one who raised her head momentarily and stiffened in terror, then he pounced.

  Alicia cried out in delight and clapped her hands together. Florien felt his heart inflate like a balloon and his face broke into a triumphant smile. He held the chicken up by the neck and then with Alicia’s eyes upon him he twisted it, breaking it in one swift movement.

  At that moment the sky opened and rain fell in a torrent of large drops. Alicia squealed and tore her eyes off the dead bird that swung from Florien’s victorious hand. ‘Leo, let’s go!’ she shouted, running off towards the house. Leonora emerged from the barn and followed her, laughing as the rain splashed off her head and shoulders and trickled down her back. Florien was left in bewilderment, standing alone in the yard as the chickens hurried for cover. He blinked away the stream of water that cascaded down his face and shame now surfaced with his reasoning. He was overwhelmed by a wave of self-loathing. He hated that snobby little girl. He would never speak to her again. Biting his lip in anger he walked through the yard to the vegetable garden where he fell to the ground and began to dig a hole with his bare hands. He placed the warm body in the earth and covered it up as best he could. Then he wiped his hands on his trousers and made his way back home feeling lower than he had ever felt before.

  ‘Florien killed a chicken for me,’ said Alicia to Leonora as they cowered for cover in a windy stone folly that stood beneath an umbrella of trees in the corner of the garden.

  Leonora was suitably horrified. ‘He didn’t!’ she exclaimed, staring at her sister in disbelief.

  ‘Don’t be such a baby,’ Alicia sneered. ‘I told him I wouldn’t tell you, so don’t sneak.’

  ‘I won’t. I promise.’

  ‘Good.’

  ‘Did the chicken suffer?’

  ‘Terribly,’ said Alicia, smiling triumphantly. ‘First he had to chase it around the yard. It ran and ran until its little legs couldn
’t carry it any further. It collapsed on the grass and when Florien picked it up I think I heard a gasp of terror. Then he wound his hands around its neck and squeezed slowly, very slowly, so that the chicken died a long and painful death.’ Alicia watched as her sister’s eyes filled with tears. She waited until they began to spill over her cheeks and then she put her out of her misery. ‘Don’t be silly, he killed it so quickly the stupid animal didn’t feel anything.’

  ‘Oh, I’m so relieved!’ Leonora gasped, hastily wiping her face. ‘You are mean sometimes, Alicia.’

  ‘And you’re a gullible old thing, Leo.’

  Leonora smiled weakly at her sister’s affectionate tone.

  ‘What do you think of Florien?’ she asked. Alicia was never happier than when she talked about herself and her opinions and Leonora was only too ready to please her.

  ‘I think he’s handsome but dumb.’

  ‘You mean he never says anything?’

  ‘No, I mean stupid.’

  ‘Oh.’ Leonora thought her sister most unjust but she didn’t dare say.

  ‘He’ll be fun to have around though in the holidays,’ she continued. ‘I’ll be bored if it’s just you and me. Maybe he can build us a camp in the woods and we can ride those horses bareback.’

  ‘I love the caravans. We can play in them too.’

  ‘Perhaps,’ said Alicia whose mind was now wandering back to the yard and to Florien whom she had left alone with the dead chicken. ‘I wonder if he’s going to bury it or own up,’ she said, narrowing her eyes.

  ‘He’ll eat it, of course.’

  ‘No he won’t,’ replied Alicia and laughed. ‘He wasn’t meant to kill it. His father will eat him for dinner if he finds out. I don’t think he’s allowed to kill animals on his own. Besides, I said if he did it, it would be our secret.’

  ‘Ah,’ sighed Leonora who already understood. Alicia had made him do it and he had been too impressed not to seize the opportunity to show off.

  ‘He’ll be furious with me now,’ she giggled. ‘But he won’t be able to say anything without owning up.’

  ‘Poor Florien,’ said Leonora, looking out onto the lawn and imagining hot summer days helping him and his father in the flowerbeds. He probably wouldn’t want her to help him now.

  ‘You had better toughen up, Leo. No one will like you at school if you’re too nice.’ Leonora looked across at her sister and knew she was wrong. But still, she couldn’t help but admire her, Alicia was everything she wasn’t. And as if Nature had heard her thoughts the rain cloud moved away and the sun came out, bathing Alicia’s beautiful young face in a heavenly golden light.

  When Barley the golden retriever bounded into the drawing room Audrey was sitting on the sofa with Leonora listening to Alicia playing the ‘Moonlight Sonata’. ‘Goodness me!’ exclaimed Aunt Cicely. ‘Don’t you play beautifully.’ Alicia grimaced. She hated it when people interrupted her. But because she didn’t know Aunt Cicely all that well yet, she forced a smile and continued to play even though they all began to talk over her. ‘Darling Barley’s going to be fine. Nothing wrong with him at all. In fact, he’s never been fitter. Must have eaten something nasty on the farm.’ Barley sniffed at Leonora’s feet then, without any warning, sat in front of her and placed his two large paws on her lap.

  ‘Oh, Mummy, look!’ she gasped in delight and rubbed his ears. ‘Isn’t he sweet.’ Alicia hit the pedal with her foot and played the notes as loudly as she could.

  ‘He’s adorable,’ Audrey replied, running her hand down his yellow back. ‘He’s got curly hair just like Alicia.’ At that Alicia gave up playing and wandered over to pat the dog.

  ‘He has got hair just like me, hasn’t he?’ she said, feeling better now that she was the centre of attention. ‘I want him to put his paws on my knees,’ she whined, pulling the dog away from her sister and dragging him over to the other sofa. Leonora didn’t protest and Audrey simply watched with an indulgent smile on her face. Alicia sat down and commanded him to sit, which he did without any fuss and after a bit of stroking he flopped his furry feet onto her lap and proceeded to pant at her with his sweet doggie breath. Cicely raised her eyebrows, surprised that Audrey let her daughter get away with such capriciousness. There was something very disagreeable about Alicia. Cicely hoped her arrogance would be knocked out of her at Colehurst House.

  It was especially dark in the countryside at night. No streetlights to illuminate the rooms, to creep through the gaps in the curtains and sketch reassuring streaks of gold across the floor and wall. It was a thick and heavy blackness that obliterated everything so that Audrey was left alone with her thoughts and a suffocating loneliness that frightened her. Unable to sleep in a house which still reverberated with echoes of Louis’ presence she switched on the light and sat up in bed, breathing sharp, shallow breaths. Leonora and Alicia were sharing a bedroom down the corridor. She hoped they weren’t alarmed by the darkness. Cicely had turned off all the lights when they went to bed in order not to waste electricity. ‘I have to cut costs wherever I can or lose the house to some vulgar millionaire with more money than taste,’ she had said. But Audrey was anxious for Leonora who was likely to mind and suffer in silence, so she sneaked across the floorboards towards the twins’ room, cringing as every time her foot landed a loud creak cried out in protest and threatened to wake the whole house. There were so many rooms and each door looked the same. Unsure of which one belonged to her daughters she lingered sweating in deliberation, her eyes jumping from one to the other, afraid of waking Cicely or Marcel by mistake. Finally she gave up and tiptoed back towards her room. But then another idea struck her. The light from her own room illuminated the stairs, which led into the hall and drawing room where the photograph of Louis whispered to her from the piano. She wouldn’t have to play, she could just pretend. She could close her eyes and imagine. She would feel close to him and her loneliness wouldn’t hurt her any more. It would be a temporary relief.

  With an aching nostalgia she was reminded of those times she would steal down the stairs at her parents’ house in Canning Street to drive off to Palermo with Louis. So many secrets, she thought, no one would imagine it of her. She walked at the very edge of the steps so that the yawning floorboards made less noise. She hadn’t noticed their squeaking during the day. There was just enough light to enable her to find her way to the drawing room and when she reached the photograph she could just make out his features. She picked it up and ran her thumb over the glass. In the silence of the night she recalled their dancing and their dreaming, their loving and their laughter before Isla had died and the fantasy had shattered. They had been so happy and they had believed such happiness would last forever. It could have. If only she had been braver, stronger, more courageous. Instead she had been tested and failed. She didn’t deserve him. After all those years with Cecil, Cecil who was good and kind, gentle and generous, she now resigned herself to the fact that she had made a terrible mistake. The thought of spending the rest of her life with a man she didn’t love, whom she had never really loved, was like renouncing one’s soul to a long winter. There was nothing she could do. She had to live with her choice and be reminded at every step of her misjudgement. But without her children what was there to live for? She threw her mind across the waters to the sunny streets of her home and yet, without love, they were bare streets and an icy wind rattled through the large and empty spaces.

  She put the frame down and sat on the piano stool, resting her fingers once again on the keys. Slowly at first, but then with increasing clarity she began to hear the familiar tune of Louis’ gentle spirit reaching her from some far distant place where they were still able to meet and relive those moments of extraordinary tenderness.

  Suddenly a bright light shone into her face. She flinched and opened her eyes. ‘Oh, it is you,’ said Marcel, switching off the torch. Audrey blinked through the darkness. ‘I am sorry, I didn’t know. I thought you were a thief,’ he continued gravely. His accent seemed heavier than u
sual. She placed her hand on her heart which was hopping about like a startled mouse. She felt she had been caught doing something wicked.

  ‘That’s all right,’ she whispered. ‘I couldn’t sleep.’

  ‘It is dark, n’est-ce pas?’ he said, leaning against the piano. As her eyes adjusted she could make out that he was wearing a long dressing gown and slippers. Feeling vulnerable in only a cotton nightdress and cardigan she folded her arms in front of her chest.

  ‘Yes,’ she replied, staring down at the keyboard.

  ‘When I first came to the countryside the nights were so dark and Cicely wouldn’t have the lights on, that I thought it was the end of the world.’

  ‘I know how you feel,’ she replied and chuckled uneasily.

  ‘When I cannot sleep, I paint.’

  ‘In the dark?’

  ‘I light a candle. Candlelight is always more romantic anyhow.’

  ‘What do you paint?’

  Marcel shrugged the way Frenchmen do, pouting and raising his palms to the ceiling. ‘Anything that moves me.’

  ‘Cicely?’

  He looked at her steadily and then a small smile curled the corners of his mouth.

  ‘For whom do you play?’

  ‘For myself,’ she replied carefully.

  ‘You play with emotion,’ he stated.

  ‘You haven’t heard me play,’ she said and laughed nervously.

  ‘Oh, but I have. This afternoon the melody rose up to my studio in the attic and I paused to listen. I recognized the tune, but could not remember where I had heard it before.’

  Audrey caught her breath ‘It is late and I’m tired,’ she said, getting up. ‘I think I’ll go to bed now.’

  ‘Of course. And I am too tired to paint,’ he replied in a whisper. ‘I will show you to your room so you don’t stumble.’

  ‘Thank you,’ she said, following him as he led the way with the torch.