Alyona's Voice

by Joan Shirley-Davies

  ‘Yes, I see how it works.’

  ‘So what have you done?’

  Fraser winced and sucked in a breath, as if his teeth hurt.

  ‘That bad hmm?’

  ‘Natalie, my girlfriend, is coming back tomorrow for the party. I want to get some flowers for when she arrives.’

  ‘Ahh!’ Jenny said. ‘That’s nice.’

  ‘We didn’t part well on Wednesday.’

  ‘Was it your fault?’

  ‘Not entirely.’ He cleared his throat as if it was difficult to mention. ‘She thinks we should live together, with a view to―’

  ‘Oh no!’ Jenny teased dramatically. ‘She said the M word?’

  Fraser grimaced. ‘Yes, and I said the N word.’

  ‘No wonder you’re in trouble. What do the flowers have to say?’

  ‘Say?’

  ‘Are you saying sorry for turning her down?’

  ‘No. It wasn’t what we agreed in the beginning. Marriage was never going to happen. Short of signing a document, it was a solid agreement. She was quite clear on what she wanted. But recently, she’s changed her mind, and…’

  ‘And…?’ Jenny prompted.

  ‘I’ve handled it badly.’

  ‘Maybe you should go along the parade to the jewellery designer?’

  ‘Don’t you think flowers would be more dignified? To give her a diamond bracelet when she really wants a ring would be insulting. Don’t you think?’

  Jenny shrugged. ‘I wouldn’t know. I don’t get many diamond encrusted insults thrown at me.’ She set down the posy and looked around. ‘Flowers it is then. So, what will it be?’

  ‘Those pink roses look good.’

  ‘I wouldn’t go there if I were you.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘Well, as you say, to give her pink roses when she really wants red ones…’

  ‘Then I’ll have red ones.’

  ‘If you give her red ones, she’ll think you’re warming to the proposal.’

  Fraser shook his head. ‘This is a minefield. I never considered the intricate differences between pink roses, red ones and diamonds.’

  The doorbell jingled.

  ‘Claudia!’ Jenny called out.

  Fraser turned as Claudia approached. She was dressed for rain that threatened to fall at any moment. Her hair was tucked inside a woollen hat. She turned to Fraser. ‘Sorry to interrupt. Did the dinner with Yuri go OK?’

  ‘Yes,’ Fraser answered, with a smile. ‘It went very well. Thanks for your input.’ He stood back and said, ‘After you, I’m nowhere near done here. Jenny’s trying to educate me in the complex language of flowers. It seems you have to have the right ones.’

  ‘Don’t expect the flowers to say it all, Fraser, you can’t throw your hat though the door and hope for the best, you need the right words too.’

  Fraser’s brow tweaked into a frown. Claudia had dealt the truth to him in her usual way. He knew the words that Natalie wanted to hear, but he couldn’t say them. What was he expecting the flowers to do, work a miracle?

  Claudia spoke to Jenny. ‘I’m looking for some heather. I’ve bought a little boiler to try and dye some yarn to match up some of the subtle colour tones in the tapestry. I’d like to include some hand-spun skeins, but I haven’t had time to look for a supplier yet. Until then, I’ll have to press on with what I’ve got.’

  ‘You’re going to dye it with heather?’

  ‘I’m trying to get to the original colour tones, use what they would have done back then. I found a book on natural dyes. The author had achieved a kind of delicate tone of green from using heather. I’d like to try and get the same. But it can be a bit hit and miss.’

  ‘I have that trouble,’ Jenny said. ‘It’s difficult to match the exact colour tones for the bride’s bouquets. I can’t boil roses to fit the wedding theme.’

  Fraser watched Claudia as she picked up the posy, sighed and gently smelled the flowers, then said, ‘These are so pretty. Somebody’s going to love them.’

  ‘Sweet peas are great,’ Jenny said. ‘They come already boiled.’

  Claudia chuckled and then looked around. ‘So, do you have any heather? I’m going to need a lot.’

  ‘There’s plenty up on the brow, where you live,’ Jenny said.

  ‘Really?’

  ‘That’s kind of where it got its name―Heather Brow.’

  Claudia and Jenny laughed.

  ‘Oh, how stupid am I?’ Claudia said. ‘Is it legal to gather it from the hill?’

  Fraser, glad of the light-hearted moment, shook his head sombrely, ‘Absolutely not, so don’t let anybody catch you.’

  Claudia stared at him. ‘Or…?’

  He narrowed his eyes and said, ‘Boiling plants will make people think you’re a witch. They’ll tie you to a ducking stool and throw you into the lake?’

  ‘Oh dear! Then what would I do?’

  ‘I’m sure Yuri would gallop to your rescue, like a brave knight.’ He then regretted his comment. It was just a jealous reaction which was not an emotion he normally suffered, not until Yuri arrived.

  ‘I’m only interested in one knight,’ Claudia told him casually. ‘He doesn’t have a head, and his horse is very lame. A girl can’t always rely on her hero turning up at the right time, so she has to learn to take care of herself. But thanks for the warning about the ducking stool.’ She made for the door. ‘Excuse me, I’ll just whistle up my broomstick and get back to work.’

  The door clanged, and Claudia was gone.

  ‘You should cut her some slack with the Russian conversation thing,’ Jenny said. ‘She’s not your girlfriend, is she? She can date Yuri if she wants to.’

  ‘We were friends for five years, I’m concerned about her.’

  ‘Well, as she said, a girl learns to take care of herself. It really was only polite chatter. Yuri was flirting, but Claudia wasn’t. I don’t think he’s her type anyway.’

  ‘Who is, do you think?’

  ‘Haven’t a clue… How about orchids?’

  Chapter Seven

  Friday began with a pleasant surprise for Claudia. An arrangement of sweet peas and delicate foliage awaited her when she arrived at Larchwood, it was on her worktable. A little card nestled among the flowers. It was simply signed, Fraser. The coloured petals stood in contrast to the row of metallic tools of her trade, several pairs of scissors, a box of assorted needles, rolls of linen tape and skeins of yarn in a variety of hues. As she leaned and drew in the sweet scent, the thought occurred to her that Fraser wasn’t at Jenny’s shop to buy her flowers, he must have been ordering a bouquet for Natalie. She was returning today, back into the arms of her lover. The thought induced a faint feeling of nausea in Claudia’s stomach, telling her that emotions, she had long since learned to hide, were not so easy to deny anymore. Work, she told herself, get to work.

  ‘The rain’s stopped,’ Todd said, as he walked through the banqueting room. ‘Going to be hot now…fine for the big bash tonight. Are you going?’

  Claudia shook her head. ‘Heavens, no, I’m staying right out of the way. I’m going to find an obsolete laundry room or scullery, at the back of the house, where I can dye this wool.’

  ‘And I’m going to be here, doing this job instead of the one I trained for, the one I was born to do.’ Todd threw up his hands and added, ‘Some people fly straight to the top in no time at all. What’s the secret, hmm?’

  ‘It helps if you’re a cute baby girl, with attitude and lots of curly hair. If you can speak a few words of Russian…’ She shrugged her shoulders.

  ‘You were famous when you were a kid?’

  ‘Until I was 14, then I gave it up.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘It was my mother’s ambition, not mine.’

  Todd seemed too exasperated to speak. He walked over to the recess and out of sight.

  Claudia felt a sense of guilt in that Todd wanted fame so badly and couldn’t even get a foothold on being a jobbing actor. Yet, she hadn
’t wanted it at all. Elsa Hamilton wouldn’t hear of Claudie Hamilton giving up the business. By the time she was 14, Claudia realised that it was no good trying to fight it, she couldn’t win. All she could ever do was find petty, annoying things to score points against her mother, along with generally being a difficult child.

  Claudia had complained about her hair, one morning, when preparing to go on set. ‘It’s gross,’ she had told her mother. ‘It’s gotten way too curly in this goddamned heat.’

  ‘Mind your language!’

  ‘If I have to cuss in the script, why shouldn’t I say it for real? I wanna have short hair, real short.’

  ‘Cut the American accent, Claudie,’ Elsa bit back. ‘Speak properly. If they wanted an American girl, with short hair, they would have got one. You’re English, you have curly hair, you can ride a horse, swim and deliver dialogue. That’s what they pay you for.’

  Claudia was astounded. ‘Pay me? I don’t see any of it. Claudie Hamilton, one of the highest paid stars on American TV. Where does it all go…Ma?’

  ‘Don’t call me that. Your expenses are astronomical. The profit goes into your trust fund. Stop complaining about your hair. It gets you a lot of work―it always has.’

  ‘That’s why I want to get rid of it. I’m not going to be your bread-ticket anymore. I’m going to live with Grannie and go to school like other kids.’

  ‘You’ve got two more episodes to shoot before you start running off to school with your short, straight hair. You’re the English Girl on the Ranch, you have an image to maintain. It’s in your contract.’

  ‘Other teenage girls―’

  ‘It’s staying the way it is.’ Elsa quietened her voice. ‘And where do you suppose you’d keep your horse if you went to live with Grannie?’

  Claudia’s body chilled, and she knew that her horse was about to become the next bargaining tool. The pain of that thought hit her insides with a sharp blow. She needed to defy her mother, but it would cost. Independence would come at a high price, and she had to decide if she was brave enough to make a bid for it. At that moment, she decided, fixed her young eyes on her mother, pulled her anger back until it simmered just beneath the surface. ‘Two more, just two more episodes, then it’s over.’

  ‘Get your things, Claudie, you have to be on location soon.’

  ‘At least Lennie’s going to be there today.’

  ‘What’s so special about that silly little man?’

  ‘He’s my friend. He takes care of me, which is more than I can say about you…Ma.’

  Elsa Hamilton had bristled at being called Ma. Claudia had scored a few points in the ongoing battle, but she could never win the war.

  *****

  By late afternoon, Larchwood House had become quiet and all the activity seemed to be outside in preparation for the party.

  Claudia had just enough time to dye the wool and then get away to avoid the guests. She put on her old lab coat and folded up the sleeves. Then she pulled up her hair into a ponytail, wound it around and pinned it close to her head. All the things she needed were in a bag, which she hooked onto her arm. Then she pushed her fingers into the carry handles of the box containing her new boiler. This was not her best look, and she had no desire to be seen, so she paused at the main entrance hall before making a dash past the stairs and towards the back of the house.

  ‘Can I help you, Miss Hamilton?’ A woman’s voice gave Claudia a fright. The woman was smartly dressed in a business suit, her fair hair was pinned up. ‘I am Irena, Mr Franklyn’s assistant. I will help you.’ She spoke perfect English, but it was clear that it was not her first language. She took the bag from Claudia’s arm.

  Claudia had seen her from time to time but had never spoken to her. ‘I’m going to look for a place to do this job, just a scullery or something with running water.’

  ‘I can see that you are anxious. Is there something wrong?’

  ‘I don’t want to bump into anybody. Look at me. Everybody’s preparing for a big event, and I’m…well, as you see, dressed for a messy job.’

  ‘Come, I will show you.’

  Below stairs, they passed through the butler’s hall and then along a narrow corridor that led to a warren of little rooms. Each one had a name, butler’s pantry, housekeeper’s room, there seemed to be a nook or a cranny for every purpose. ‘This might be suitable,’ Irena said, as she opened a door. ‘I understand that it is called the sugar room.’

  Claudia looked around the small workstation of long ago, the old, distressed wall cupboards, a scrubbed pine table and a Belfast sink installed generations ago, long before it became a design feature. She turned on the tap, it screeched and shuddered as it coughed out cold water. She smiled. ‘This is perfect.’

  Irena handed the bag to Claudia. ‘You are easy to please, for sure. There is power in all the rooms, even if they are not used.’

  ‘I’ll be very happy here, out of sight, and long gone before the party starts. Don’t let me hold you up, you must have quite enough to do. Everything looks amazing out there, you’re very efficient.’

  ‘I am efficient because I insist on having the things I need in my workplace, wherever that happens to be at the time.’ She looked at the bundle of heather and the bag of salt. ‘That is true for you also. But you should open the window. That will not smell like sugar. I will leave you. I am sure you will not be disturbed here.’

  Irena was clearly a very supportive person, strong enough to conduct herself in a quiet, orderly manner.

  Secure in the knowledge that she wasn’t using anybody else’s workstation, Claudia wound a scarf around her head, opened the window, pulled on her rubber gloves and set to work.

  As the water began to bubble, she thought about Fraser, and how important this evening was for him. He wouldn’t give her a thought today. If only she could get to that place, too, become oblivious of him. But she had made a big mistake, allowed herself to become close to him when they sat on the chaise lounge and talked about Wainford. The sudden kiss on her hand, one little touch of his lips, made a mockery of the emotional mountain she had climbed during the past two years. Before that, she had successfully hidden her love in plain sight by being a very valuable friend. She couldn’t do that now, too many things had changed since those days. Her throat tightened, and tears spilled from her eyes. She had only learned to live with the pain because she didn’t see Fraser anymore, nor hear his voice or know the touch of his fine clothes. Sometimes, when he turned up, it seemed that he had just stepped out of the shower and into her apartment as his face and his neck were lightly scented with a tangy freshness. Other times, he had clearly come straight from a bad day at the office.

  She reprimanded herself for getting weepy, ignored her tears and plunged the twigs of heather, along with the salt, into the boiling water, then stirred it with a huge, wooden spoon. After a while, it looked and smelled pretty disgusting―the book didn’t mention that. As the concoction gurgled and bubbled, the distant sounds of thudding and banging could be heard. She decided it was maintenance trying to clear up a few more crates. She didn’t discount the possibility that there were ancestors in the attic, complaining about their images being taken away to be stored. The thumping sounds seemed to come closer. Doors opened and slammed as if an angry poltergeist was storming through the house.

  A voice shouted―Fraser’s voice. ‘Where are you damn it?’

  Then to Claudia’s surprise, he called out, ‘Claudia!’

  ‘Oh, no!’ Claudia sighed. She couldn’t believe it. What on earth did he want? He probably wanted her to move her car. She shrugged. They had people for that. It wasn’t locked, and Joe could probably pick it up and carry it.

  After a few more seconds, the door burst open, and Fraser entered. He was so wound up. ‘What are you doing in this…this…?’

  Claudia quickly pulled a mask over her moment of weakness and greeted him cheerily. ‘Welcome to the sugar room.’

  Fraser scowled. ‘Is there no end to the
absurd situations in which you practise your craft? Nobody uses this place.’

  ‘That’s why I chose it. I thought I was out of everybody’s way.’ Claudia’s natural instinct for banter was a handy foil to get through times like this. ‘Why are you checking on me? I’m not working on a ladder or kneeling on the hard floor. I bet Todd told you I was here―the snitch.’

  Fraser was like a coiled spring. ‘I need your help. It’s an emergency.’

  Claudia was suddenly alarmed, thinking that something serious had happened, maybe Stephanie or Little Eddie was sick or injured. Her insides quaked, as thoughts of accidents, meningitis and other childhood perils ran through her mind. ‘What’s happened? Are the children OK?’

  ‘Yes, they’re fine. I need your help at the party.’

  Claudia stared in disbelief. ‘Not to wait tables, I hope.’

  ‘Don’t be ridiculous, Claudia. I need you as a guest.’

  She stared at him. ‘Oh, I get it. You want me to sit next to Yuri, so he can speak Russian.’

  ‘Absolutely not,’ Fraser said. ‘It’s Natalie…well… I got a phone call five minutes ago.’

  ‘Is she sick?’

  ‘No, she’s just being Natalie. She’s not coming, so there’s going to be an empty seat. It won’t look good.’

  Claudia threw up her wet, gloved hands. ‘Here was I thinking that one of the children was sick or hurt, and your big emergency is an empty seat?’

  ‘It isn’t just a matter of a vacant place at the table, it’s the message it sends to everybody.’

  ‘Like having no woman on your arm?’

  ‘We broke up.’

  ‘Oh, I’m sorry,’ Claudia said sheepishly.

  ‘Claudia, I don’t have time to discuss it. I need you this evening.’

  ‘I don’t do evenings.’

  ‘I’m asking you…as my friend.’

  ‘Don’t play that card. You’ve been stroppy with me all week. Now I’m your friend? Surely there must be somebody else listed in your phone?’

  ‘Not at this short notice.’

  ‘So the buck stops at the bottom of the barrel?’

  ‘I didn’t mean that…’