Then one day she heard him play a piece of music she had never heard before. She was lying on the sofa in front of the fire, preparing an essay, while Louis tinkered away on the piano. It was early December and the rain was almost turned to sleet, rattling against the window panes with icy fingers. He played quietly so as not to interrupt her studies. They had spent the morning discussing the subject and working out a strong argument so that all she needed to do now was read some theory. She liked to lie reading while he played, and often she would join him for a break, taking her place beside him on the stool without speaking. But suddenly he began to play a haunting melody of such beauty that she felt her whole body ripple with shivers as if the window had opened to let the winter in. She put down her book and concentrated her attention on the music. Then she turned onto her side and watched him, her large joyful eyes melting with sorrow. Of all the tunes he had played this he played with the most drama. It was as if the vibrations consumed him so that he became the notes he was playing. Grace watched transfixed, trying to work out what he was thinking and why this piece of music was so different from every other piece she had heard him play. Finally, she got to her feet and walked softly to his side where she put a hand on his shoulder. When he felt her hand he opened his eyes and blinked, as if disturbed from a deep sleep. His hands stopped and he breathed deeply, slowly waking up. The colour returned to his face and his mouth extended into a sheepish smile.
‘That’s the most magical piece of music I have ever heard, Uncle Louis. Who did you compose it for?’
Louis hesitated, thinking very carefully of what he was going to say. He remembered her comment that it is always better to tell the truth if one is motivated by love. But he loved her too much to tell her the truth. It wasn’t his place. If Audrey hadn’t told her then he had no right to.
‘It rained like this the night Isla died,’ he said sadly and Grace believed she understood.
‘The night she died?’ she asked softly.
‘The night she died,’ he repeated. ‘The night I left Argentina a broken man.’
‘Oh, Louis,’ she whispered, feeling the full force of his sadness. ‘I’m so sorry.’ She sat beside him and wrapped her arms around him. As she wiped a tear on his jersey she suddenly realized that she wasn’t so very different from other people after all. Louis had taught her how to empathize. She no longer felt that she was watching the world through a pane of glass. She no longer felt detached. She felt it all as if she had suffered too.
‘Why do I feel so melancholy?’ she asked. Louis put his arms around her and squeezed her with so much tenderness that it almost overwhelmed him.
‘Because beautiful things always make us sad,’ he replied with a strong sense of déjà vu.
‘Why?’
‘Because we can’t hold onto them for ever.’
‘I’ve never felt melancholy before. Your music has touched me, Uncle Louis. I’m trembling.’
‘There’s more than earthly forces at play here, Grace. There’s magic in it, I tell you.’
‘And I believe you. Will you teach me how to play it?’
Louis pulled away and looked at her gravely. ‘If you promise me you won’t play it at home.’
‘Why?’
‘It’ll be our secret tune, Grace. Just promise me that.’
‘I promise,’ she said. ‘Our secret tune.’
When Grace returned home for the Christmas holidays she knew instinctively that she shouldn’t speak of her friendship with her uncle. She told her parents about her courses and the professors who brought her studies alive. She told them of the concerts and theatre she had been to and the weekends she had spent in the countryside. But she didn’t mention the friend she had shared it all with. She only told Aunt Cicely because she had to tell someone.
To her horror Grace saw that her father was getting old. She had never noticed it before but time was catching up with him. He was thinner too. His cheeks were drawn and the bones looked severe beneath the skin. He was pale and his eyes no longer shone. She wondered how he could have deteriorated so fast without her noticing. Had she really been so detached, so blinded by her hidden world of spirits as to have missed her own father fading away right in front of her?
Cecil had been retired now for eight years. He pottered about the garden, read books on military history and accompanied Audrey on walks up and down the beach. He enjoyed his grandchildren, who came to visit daily with their mother and enjoyed a deepening relationship with his sister and Anthony Fitzherbert who was much more to his taste than the moody Marcel. He had enjoyed his retirement, but now he was weary. He wished he believed in life after death with the same certainty as Grace. The end still frightened him. He hadn’t feared dying in the war. As a soldier he had been prepared to sacrifice his life for his country. He had thrown himself against the icy gates of death but had returned a hero having escaped the unknown, believing such victory rendered him immortal. Now old age had withered his courage as well as his bones.
‘You look decidedly peaky,’ said Cicely to her brother as they sat in her sitting room beside the fire, waiting for Audrey and Grace to come in from their walk around the farm.
‘I’m just weary, that’s all,’ he replied, puffing on a cigar.
Anthony put down Farmers Weekly and leaned forward to stoke the fire that was sending smoke out into the room. ‘It’s the cold. Stops the circulation at our age,’ he said cheerfully.
‘Honestly, darling, you’re a good ten years younger than Cecil. Cecil’s a dinosaur.’
‘Thank you, Cicely,’ replied Cecil, chuckling lightly.
‘I’m sorry, darling, I should save my venom for that other mad brother of mine. Isn’t it nice that Grace loves him so much.’
Cecil pulled the cigar out of his mouth and frowned. ‘Grace hasn’t mentioned anything about Louis to me,’ he said, puzzled. ‘I knew she would go and see him but . . .’
‘My dear, they’ve become firm friends. They go to concerts, picnic together. She spends more time with him than anyone else. She says she doesn’t need any other friends. She must have brought the best out in him because the last time I saw him he was a grumpy old sod.’
Cecil chewed on the end of his cigar. ‘What else did Grace say?’ he asked thoughtfully.
‘She probably doesn’t dare mention his name. I’m afraid I told her that you two fell out all those years ago.’
‘You did?’
‘Well, of course I did, Cecil,’ she explained, feeling guilty, as if she had betrayed a secret. ‘It wasn’t right to let her go to Dublin without knowing that her uncle lived there. They have the same name. He lives in the college and from what I hear he’s extremely well known there. Someone would have introduced them. Was I wrong?’
‘No, no. You’re right. Besides, he’s her uncle. Blood is thicker than water and all that.’ He chuckled again and puffed on the cigar but inside he felt weak with jealousy. Louis had stolen his wife’s heart and now he stood poised to take his daughter’s too. He swallowed hard and felt a shortness of breath that caused him to cough.
‘Really, Cecil, you don’t look very well at all.’
‘Change the record, Cicely,’ he snapped unintentionally, then spotted Audrey and Grace walking past the window. ‘Ah, they’re back. Good.’
‘We went for such a long walk. It’s dark outside,’ said Grace happily, her cheeks glowing from the cold. ‘Mummy, tell Daddy about the sunset. It really was magical.’
‘Up there on the hill. I promise you it flooded the land with treacle. The sky was red as if it were on fire,’ said Audrey. Cecil noticed that her eyes were raw and watery. There must have been a bitter wind.
‘And pink too,’ added Grace.
‘And pink. It was as if God was putting on a show especially for us.’
‘How wonderful,’ he exclaimed with forced enthusiasm. ‘I wish I had been up there with you.’ Then he put his arm around Grace and kissed her temple. She looked at him in puzzlement. He wasn’
t a demonstrative man and such a gesture took her by surprise. Audrey saw it too and her expression suddenly clouded with sorrow, but she blinked her emotions away and followed them out into the hall.
‘Why don’t you come for dinner tomorrow night?’ said Cicely. ‘No point walking around the farm until dark and then having to go home and cook. I’ll do a chicken.’
‘If a chicken’s on offer I’ll say yes for Mummy and Daddy,’ said Grace with a grin.
‘We’d love to,’ Audrey replied, still shaken by Cecil’s tender kiss on his daughter’s temple.
As Cicely watched them drive away she turned to her husband and said, ‘I don’t think Cecil’s at all well.’
‘No, he doesn’t look good.’
‘I hate secrets,’ she said suddenly. ‘I really hate secrets. Cecil and Audrey have far too many. I don’t know what I’m allowed to say and what I’m not.’
‘Darling, don’t think about it. Cecil wasn’t cross.’
‘He was hurt. God knows why. He wasn’t possessive like that about the twins.’
‘Grace is different, anyone can see that. He just doesn’t want his cantankerous younger brother getting close to his precious little girl. If he fell out with him as you say, it’s only natural.’
‘Well, pooh to all that,’ Cicely exclaimed, walking down the passage to the kitchen. ‘He’ll get over it. He’ll have to. Louis and Grace are two of a kind.’
Alone on the hill Audrey had asked her daughter about Louis. Her curiosity had finally got the better of her. Grace’s reply had taken her as much by surprise as Cecil’s tender kiss later.
‘At first he was a sad old man, plagued by the past, a prisoner of his memories. But little by little he lightened up. Now he’s my best friend. We do everything together. We laugh all the time, discuss philosophy, play the piano and chill out. I know Daddy fell out with him, but that doesn’t have to affect me, does it?’
‘Of course not,’ Audrey replied, putting her hands in her pockets and hunching up her shoulders. ‘I’m glad that you make him happy.’
‘Oh, I do. He didn’t smile much at the beginning.’ There was a pause while Audrey wondered whether it was healthy to question her daughter further. Perhaps it was better to leave Louis in the past with the ‘Forget-Me-Not Sonata’ and her silk-bound book. But she tried to envisage him old and could not, so she persisted.
‘What’s he like?’
Grace laughed. It seemed an absurd question seeing as he had lived with them in Buenos Aires, according to Aunt Cicely. Had he changed so much?
‘He’s got long grey hair. He doesn’t brush it very much. It’s a bit messy. He tries to look tidy but does a hopeless job,’ she said with a smile. She was delighted she was able to talk about her friend at last. ‘He’s tall and strong, like a bear. A lovely, cuddly bear. He’s not bony like Daddy, he’s soft. He has these amazing blue eyes that go from looking sad to happy in a moment. You never know what he’s going to do next. He’ll suddenly cry over a piece of music then laugh a minute later at something I say. But as much as he laughs there’s something very sad about his old eyes. His lashes are white, they glisten as if they’re frozen, like icicles. He’s a gifted musician. He plays so beautifully. I study in his sitting room while he plays. He composes, you know. Like I do actually, except now he writes a lot of it down. It’s a hobby of his. He said he was never disciplined enough as a young man to write down what he makes up. He’s very gifted.’ She sighed, remembering him fondly. ‘He’s not at all like Daddy and Aunt Cicely.’
‘No, he’s very different,’ her mother agreed, but Grace didn’t detect the wistfulness that caused her voice to crack.
‘I’m glad I met Uncle Louis. He’s very kind to me.’
Audrey was too moved to speak. She stared out over the valley that lay before them, her face bathed in the golden light of sunset. When Grace turned to her she noticed that her mother’s eyes were streaming with tears.
‘Oh, Mummy. The view?’ she asked, linking her arm through hers. Audrey nodded because the lump in her throat had muted her. ‘Beautiful things always make us melancholy,’ she continued, squeezing her mother’s arm, without realizing the significance of her words. ‘It’s because we can’t hold onto them forever.’ Overwhelmed by memories, Audrey’s shoulders shook. Grace assumed her mother’s tears were in response to the magnificence of the sky. ‘We must tell Daddy about this view. He’d love it. What a shame he didn’t want to come with us.’ But Audrey was grateful for this moment alone on the hill with her daughter. It was a private moment in which Cecil had no place. She gazed out over the darkening valley and pictured Louis’ face as Grace had described it. She knew she would never see it for herself.
The following day Grace believed herself to be alone. Her father had driven to the garden centre to buy some poinsettias and her mother was visiting Leonora and her grandchildren. She sat down at the piano, feeling as guilty as a schoolgirl about to break the rules, and rested her fingers on the keys. She remembered the promise she had made to Louis, but, she reassured herself, she was alone and her fingers were just itching to play it.
Quietly she began to play the poignant tune he had taught her. Softly at first in case her mother should return without her hearing, or her father come through the garden with the plants. But slowly the notes wound around her like tentacles of ivy until she was aware of nothing but the expanse of dreams that opened up to her like the view on the hill. She couldn’t help but close her eyes and let the music carry her. And she flew, far away, to an unfamiliar place where she knew she didn’t belong, but for which her heart yearned. She saw the vast plains of Argentina where a young man and woman were galloping in chase of ostriches. It was sunset and the pampa was bathed in a rich amber colour beneath a vast golden sky. The beauty of it caused her eyes to swell with tears. There was something moving about the couple. Their joy was grounded in sorrow. She felt their hopes and sensed their dreams as if they were her own. She tried to search deeper into her vision but suddenly instinct caused her to withdraw her fingers from the keys. She opened her eyes as her mother’s hand threw down the piano lid in fury. Grace was so shocked that she burst into tears. She looked up at her mother, whose face was as white as death. ‘I don’t ever want to hear you play that piece again. Ever,’ she shouted. ‘Do you understand?’ Her hands were trembling as she rubbed them together. It was as if she had scalded herself touching the piano. She stared down at her daughter with fear. When she saw her own fear reflected in Grace’s eyes she too dissolved into tears. She placed her shaking fingers over her mouth and dropped onto her knees. ‘I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,’ she whispered, frightened by the ferocity of her reaction. ‘I didn’t mean to hurt you. I’m so sorry, Grace.’
‘Oh, Mummy. What have I done?’ Grace sobbed, throwing herself onto the floor and wrapping her arms about her mother’s body. ‘I’m sorry too.’ They sat in each other’s embrace while ‘The Forget-Me-Not Sonata’ still rang in their ears. Finally Audrey took her daughter’s face in her hands and swept away her tears. She shook her head and pursed her lips together in resignation.
‘Your father is dying, Grace.’
Grace’s eyes widened like a startled animal caught in the headlights. She sat staring at her mother in disbelief. She had noticed how thin and pale her father was. But she hadn’t imagined that his health was failing.
‘He’s dying?’ she repeated, hoping that perhaps she hadn’t heard correctly.
Audrey nodded. ‘He’s riddled with cancer, my love. We’re losing him.’
Grace held her mother close and buried her face in her neck. ‘Why didn’t you tell me?’ she asked. ‘How long has he been ill?’
‘Two months. Years. I don’t know for sure. But it’s everywhere. He hasn’t got long. We didn’t want to frighten you.’
‘But, Mummy, he’s my father. You should have told me.’
Audrey pulled away and sat back on the carpet. ‘My love, your father is a proud man. He doesn’t want everyo
ne fussing over him. Least of all me.’
‘Do Alicia and Leonora know?’
‘I haven’t told them yet.’
‘Well you must. My God, we should all be here for him. It’s only after people die that we realize how much we love them. We mustn’t wait until then to show him how much he means to us all.’
‘Darling, you’re so sweet,’ she mused, noticing how she had grown less detached since she had gone to Dublin.
Grace read her mother’s expression. ‘It’s not right to be so heavenly minded as to be no earthly good,’ she replied with a wry smile. ‘Louis has taught me that.’ Audrey curled a stray curl behind Grace’s ear and smiled at her with tenderness.
‘Don’t mention your uncle to Daddy, my love. He’s weak.’
‘I understand. It’s okay,’ she replied. ‘Will you tell him that I know about his illness?’
‘I’ll tell him.’
‘And tell the twins. I don’t care how proud he is. The least we can do is be there for him now.’ Audrey nodded and embraced Grace again.
‘Play something else, my love. Something less sad. That tune just set me off. I’m sorry.’
‘I’ll play something positive,’ she said, sitting down on the stool once again. ‘Positive vibrations will make Daddy better.’ She wondered why it was that her sixth sense had failed her.
But the months rolled on and nothing could make Cecil better, not even Grace’s music nor her prayers. His health deteriorated like trees in autumn that shed their leaves one by one until their branches are bare and lifeless. It was meant to be. Destiny had brought him to the end of his journey and the world of spirit awaited him. But he was afraid.
The Forget-Me-Not Sonata Page 43