‘Ah, you found him. I am pleased.’
‘Yes, Leonora will be very happy.’
‘I wonder why he left so suddenly,’ Cecil mused, sitting down on the terrace.
‘You know your brother better than I,’ she replied. ‘He left suddenly last time too.’ Cecil stiffened and narrowed his eyes as he watched her wander sadly about the garden like a shadow.
‘I see,’ he said. His voice was a deep groan. He drained his glass. ‘I don’t suppose we’ll see him for a while then.’ Audrey blinked away a tear. She was now unable to speak. In order to avoid having to talk any more she walked away from him to the far corner of the garden where she stood pretending to deadhead where there were no flowers, just ferns and evergreens. Cecil got up and retreated inside the house. She was relieved he had left her alone.
It was no coincidence; through his drunken haze Cecil knew he had an enormous amount to be thankful for.
Aunt Edna was the first to arrive at the house when news of Louis’ sudden departure spread once again around the community. It was late in the evening and Audrey was preparing for an early night. Her aunt’s sudden appearance surprised her as much as it surprised Cecil. ‘To what do we owe the pleasure?’ he asked, his red face breaking into a loose smile.
‘Where’s Audrey?’ she asked hoarsely, deducing from Cecil’s drunken state that she must have left with Louis as she had threatened. She clutched her neck with hot fingers and sat down.
‘Upstairs preparing for bed. She’s tired and missing the twins,’ he stated flatly.
‘Ah,’ she breathed deeply with relief. ‘I’ll go up and see her then.’
‘As you wish. You won’t find her very communicative tonight, I’m afraid. She’s quite done in.’ Aunt Edna noticed the anger in his voice and wondered how much he knew.
She found Audrey in her room, sitting on the window seat, staring blankly out into the garden. She rushed over and drew her trembling niece into her embrace. ‘Dear child,’ she said softly, pressing her close. ‘I know how much it hurts, but you’ve done the right thing. You’re very, very brave. No one but I knows how brave and courageous you have been.’ Audrey buried her face in her aunt’s bosom and sobbed. ‘It will hurt for a while but in time the pain will subside and you will feel little more than a dull ache. My heart still aches for Harry. But I no longer suffer pain.’
‘What is the point of living without love?’ she asked in a whisper. ‘What is the point of it all?’
‘You have your children to love.’
‘But they’re not here.’ Her voice was barely audible.
‘You’ll go and see them.’
‘What? A few weeks here and a few weeks there? Who will they run to when they’re unhappy? Who will they talk to about their fears and their worries? Someone will replace me in their lives. What’s the point of having children if you’re not going to nurture them?’
‘Audrey, this is silly talk. You have to pull yourself together.’ Aunt Edna gripped her by the upper arms and held her face with a determined stare.
‘I can’t.’ Audrey looked into her aunt’s compassionate old eyes. ‘I just can’t.’
‘I know you still care about Cecil. Even if you don’t realize it. My dear, he loves you so much. Just look at him. Look what you’ve done to him. He’s drinking too much. He’s losing his confidence. He was such a dashing young man. He needs you. Can’t you see?’
‘He’s driven me away.’
‘You have to make a go of it. You’ve got each other for life.’ Audrey groaned and lowered her head. ‘Don’t forget that old cliché, “It’s better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all.” I would rather have had eight years of loving Harry than a lifetime of no one special. You’ve lived something unique and loved to your full capacity. We can’t always have it all. Be thankful for your children, some women are unable to conceive, others lose their children like your mother lost Isla. Don’t focus on what you have lost, remember what you have and hold onto it.’ Her face softened into a sympathetic smile. ‘You can either be miserable or make the best of what you have been dealt. It is your choice. You did the right thing today, and in time you will appreciate that. Tomorrow you must set out to repair your marriage and put Louis behind you.’
But Audrey’s emotions were too raw to contemplate her marriage and it was too early to put Louis behind her. When her aunt had gone she hid beneath the sheets and slept.
It was dark when Cecil entered his dressing room. He switched on the light and closed the door softly behind him so as not to awaken his wife who was asleep next door. He walked over to the dresser. Catching his reflection in the large oval mirror he rubbed his chin in dismay. He looked old and shabby. His eyes sagged and the whites were dull and yellowed. His skin was ruddy and coarse in texture and his mouth twisted in a permanent grimace. He clearly looked unwell. He sighed and picked up the leather-bound bible he had recently come to rely on. Then he opened one of the drawers at the base of the mirror and pulled out a small key. He was meticulously tidy and everything had its place. Finally he lifted the little brown walnut box where he kept things of great importance and walked over to the armchair where he sat down. He opened the bible where it was marked with a gold ribbon and began to read. He read until the early hours of the morning and with each verse his spirits were uplifted and reinforced. But it was one verse in particular that caused him to rub his chin ponderously, sigh heavily and reflect on the last decade of his life with objectivity. That verse above all others spoke to him and stayed with him so that it became a mantra that he repeated quietly to himself over and over again. When dawn lit up the sky and the song of birds danced on the air, signalling the beginning of another day, he turned the key in the little walnut box and pulled out a folded piece of paper. He opened it and his eyes scanned what was written there. Louis’ ink had faded a little over the years but his words had lost none of their potency. Taking a pen Cecil copied that verse from the bible, writing it at the bottom of the page. He studied the note a moment before folding it and placing it once again in the walnut box. He locked it then put the key back where it belonged.
The next couple of weeks passed slowly. Audrey took solace in the mundane routine of domestic life. She busied herself inventing tasks in order to fill the empty hours. Time dragged as if the hands of the clock were weighed down with sorrow and the skies turned grey and stormy, drenching the plain below with heavy, torrential rain. The humidity was stifling. She sweated out her pain and frustration as she turned all her energies on the silver and brass, old cupboards that needed sorting out and threw into boxes marked ‘charity’ all the clothes she had gathered over the years but never worn. Then she went to the hairdresser and had her lustrous curls cut short.
Finally she played ‘The Forget-Me-Not Sonata’ for the last time. With the ceremony of a ritual that only she knew, she pulled out the stool, sat down, lifted the lid of the piano and rested her fingers lightly over the keys. She closed her eyes and took three deep breaths. With each exhalation she felt the strain loosen its bonds and free her at least from the physical symptoms of a broken spirit. The emotional wounds, however, would never heal. Slowly her fingers began to move across the keys.
In her mind’s eye she saw herself as a young girl when love had wrapped its honeyed tendrils about her heart and ensnared her for the first and only time. She saw Louis’ handsome face and the vulnerability behind his eyes that belied the confidence his face projected. She imagined his wide and captivating smile, before disappointment had erased his joy and his hope, and lived once again his kiss, that melted the material world and transported her into the intangible world of shared dreams. Then once she had awoken from her solemn meditation she closed the piano lid. ‘Let it collect dust,’ she said to herself. ‘Because I will never play it again.’
Just as Audrey believed she would never emerge from her dark tunnel of despair, Fate endowed her with a gift she could never have foreseen. Louis’ child. When she discovered h
er pregnancy she placed her hand on her belly and with a shamelessness that was quite out of character her face opened into a large and tender smile and her spirit, once so dead, now revived itself and quivered with excitement. A part of Louis was growing inside her. A piece of him would always be with her and, God willing, nothing would take it from her. This child wouldn’t be sent overseas to be educated. She had learnt her lesson. She wouldn’t allow it. Conceived with the purest of earthly love this child would be special. By God’s grace she had been given another future. A future brimming with joy. She was no longer staring into an abyss, but onto a vast horizon of endless possibilities. It shall be a little girl, she said to herself, and I will call her Grace.
Only after having revelled for some time in the magic of Fortune, did she consider her husband. Then her smiling face was reduced to an anxious frown while she deliberated what she was going to say to him. She would have to tell him the whole truth. There was no avoiding it. He would know it wasn’t his and she couldn’t put it down to immaculate conception. She was deeply afraid. Not of his rejection or his anger, but of hurting him.
It was late when Cecil returned home. He was weary and his shoulders stooped as he walked up the path to the front door. Audrey had been so absorbed in her own troubles that she had failed to notice his. He looked broken and dejected and her heart went out to him. She was standing in the hallway biting her nails when he walked in. His face didn’t change expression. He just looked at her impassively as if he were tired of loving her and not being loved in return. As if he were tired of trying.
‘We need to talk,’ she said.
‘All right,’ he replied in a resigned tone. If she were to announce that she was leaving him he wouldn’t have been at all surprised. He followed her into the sitting room and reached for the whisky as he did every night, barely aware of his actions, certainly unable to change the habit even if he wanted to. He sank into an armchair and took a swig from his glass. ‘So, what do you want to say?’ Audrey sighed. She didn’t know how to put it gently, how to soften such a severe blow.
‘I’m expecting a baby,’ she stated without emotion. He stared back at her for a long moment giving nothing of his feelings away, except for his cheeks, which smarted red as if stung.
‘I see,’ he said finally.
‘I owe it to you to explain,’ she began.
‘There is nothing to explain, Audrey.’ He put his hand up, signalling for her to remain silent. She obeyed without a protest and watched as he got up and leaned against the mantelpiece above the empty fireplace. He stared into the shadows, remembering the verse from the bible and deriving strength from it. He was now faced with the unavoidable reality of Audrey’s affair with his brother. His suspicions had been right all along. But she hadn’t left him; for whatever reason she had let Louis go. With a shudder he recalled the morning all those years ago when he had discovered Louis’ disappearance and the note he had written. This was a golden opportunity to redeem himself of his own wrongdoing and assuage the guilt that had gnawed at him ever since. Audrey had placed him at a crossroad. He could continue up the current path with her and the baby, or leave her and walk alone. He had a choice. But there was no decision to be made because Cecil’s nobility of character now asserted itself. He stood up and pulled his shoulders back. He felt empowered; the way one does when one’s actions are selfless and good. ‘We are expecting another child. We are truly blessed,’ he said finally and turned to her with eyes that shone with determination. While Audrey blinked at him in confusion he walked over to her, bent down and kissed her. She flinched and caught her breath, all the time watching him in amazement, not knowing how to respond. ‘Have you telephoned your mother?’ She gulped and tried to compose herself. But her shame suddenly overwhelmed her and she dissolved into tears. She shook her head. ‘Don’t be upset, Audrey, a child is a gift. This is not a time for tears but a time for joy.’
‘I’m so sorry,’ she stammered. But he pretended not to hear her.
‘I suggest you telephone your mother right away so that we can share our good news.’
‘But, Cecil.’ She attempted once again to explain herself.
‘And we must let the twins know that they are going to have a little brother or sister. I’m sure they’ll be delighted, or at least, Leonora will be.’ Audrey knew that it was pointless trying to fight him, so she leaned back against the cushions and wiped her eyes with the sleeve of her shirt. ‘How are you feeling?’ he asked.
‘Terrible,’ she replied and sniffed.
‘I mean physically.’
‘No sickness, Cecil. Just sickness of the soul.’
‘Why don’t you have an early night, I’ll sleep in my dressing room. You’ll feel better in the morning.’ He walked towards the door then turned and looked at her steadily with dull eyes that had once sparkled with love. ‘Some things are too painful to face, Audrey. So if one pretends hard enough one might be fooled into believing they haven’t happened.’ He lifted his chin and continued in a very quiet voice, ‘You are carrying my child, Audrey. There is nothing else to discuss. Our child and we will bring him up together. I don’t want to speak of this again, ever. And I don’t want to see my brother for as long as I live, in this world or the next.’ Audrey watched him walk out and suddenly remembered to breathe.
She didn’t know whether she’d ever love her husband but from that moment on she deeply admired him. He must have known about the affair all along. He had never confronted her. He had always treated his brother with courtesy. Now he had done the noblest thing of any man she had ever known; he had elected to bring Louis’ child up as his own. Audrey wept again, this time out of gratitude.
Grace was born at The Little Company of Mary in town, like her sisters and her mother before them. But unlike any baby the doctor had ever seen, Grace was born with a smile hovering on her pretty pink lips and a knowing look in her wise eyes, the eyes of an old woman who has seen all that the world has to offer. She didn’t scream like Alicia or whimper like Leonora, she just watched her mother with curiosity and held up her little white hand to touch her face. Audrey took the hand in hers and kissed it as the tears tumbled down her cheeks and dripped off her chin onto the newborn body of her baby. ‘Shall I call in your husband?’ the doctor asked. But Audrey shook her head.
‘I would like some time alone with Grace,’ she said. ‘Just a few minutes, then you can call him.’ The doctor left her sitting up in bed, mesmerized by the features of her child that were a perfect reflection of the man she loved. ‘You’re more special to me than anyone else in the world,’ she whispered and the child blinked up at her contentedly. ‘You will never know who your real father is, but that doesn’t matter because your gentle spirit is a part of his and always will be. You will carry his memory in your smile and in your eyes, which are so like his and you will be happy because I will love you for the both of us. For the both of us, my love. And Cecil will love you too, in his own way. I will never disappoint you, Grace, or let you down as I have let down your father and your half-sisters. That is my promise.’
When Cecil laid eyes on the baby he noticed at once how like Louis she was and he knew instinctively that little Grace would always be a stranger to him, just like her father. Grace had the same disconnected expression in her eyes and something more, something that Louis had never had, a knowing look that was quite unsettling, as if she could see into his soul. Cecil shook his head and chuckled out loud. How could a baby, no more than some twenty minutes old, be endowed with so much awareness? It was impossible, he was mad to have imagined it. He pulled away and looked at his wife. She smiled at him tentatively but Cecil didn’t return her smile. He asked her how she felt and then went to telephone her mother. He still loved Audrey to distraction but she had destroyed his trust and made a mockery of his affection for her. What tormented him the most was the question that now gnawed at his heart: had she ever loved him? He didn’t dare ask her in case she confessed that she never had.
&nb
sp; Grace was indeed a special little girl. Alicia and Leonora returned to Argentina only once a year at Christmas time so their small sister grew up effectively an only child, indulged by her mother and tolerated by her father, spoiled by her grandmother and great aunt Edna who were delighted to have another child to love. As Grace grew into a willowy, ethereal little girl with the long white hair of an angel and the light foot of a garden spirit, Alicia resented her charm and bullied her, but unlike Leonora Grace was resilient to her taunts. She simply smiled at her sister with pity as if she could see into the dark corners of her nature and foresaw the struggles that lay ahead. Leonora wanted to love her, but Grace was remote. She didn’t need friendship, just the air to breathe and the garden to play in, for she told how it was filled with fairies. Leonora wasn’t immune from jealousy either and suffered seeing her baby sister swept up into the arms of her beloved mother, who used to have eyes only for her. When she returned to England at the end of the holidays she would think of her mother and suffer a different kind of homesickness. For now home wasn’t the same as it had been, for her mother’s attentions weren’t reserved exclusively for herself and Alicia. Grace was different and those differences might as well have been as wide as a sea for as much as Leonora tried she was unable to reach her.
So Grace grew up in the rarefied air of Hurlingham where her mother took her for picnics beneath the fragrant eucalyptus trees, rode out over the plains and chased ostriches at Gaitano’s ranch, La Magdalena. She taught her about the wild prairie hares and the plants and flowers that grew on the fertile plains of the pampa and listened while her daughter told her of the spirits that accompanied her along her path of life. ‘We all have an angel who looks after us,’ she told her mother. ‘Mine is tall with brown skin and feathers in his hair. He’s called Totem. I have many friends in the spirit world and am never lonely.’ Audrey believed her for if she ever lost something about the house she only had to consult Grace who would ask her angel and the missing object would be found immediately. She would hear her talking in her bedroom after she had been tucked up in bed, her voice recounting the day’s events and her opinions as if she were sharing her room with a friend. But Grace didn’t have any friends, only her mother and the spirits that seemed to occupy her imagination.
The Forget-Me-Not Sonata Page 34