Rhythm and Rhyme

by Dixie Carlton

  The legal status of her own marriage of course was also still something to resolve. The police had advised her several months ago that while her marriage license did seem to be in order, the person who had signed his name to it alongside her own was a mystery man who remained a complete enigma to them. Where he came from, who he really was, and where he might be now were all unknown, and until those points were resolved in any way, Margaret was to remain in limbo.

  The only thing she felt she could now do was to track down this man. Having her own marriage annulled might be possible, and then persuading Nate to marry her meant getting her family back together. But how to do that? And where to start?

  The monumental journey of the past few months was mentally and emotionally draining to say the least. Her grief over the loss of her children, and Nate seemingly turning his back on her was overwhelming at times. She could see no way around the situation. Closing her eyes, and allowing tears to silently fall, she drifted off to sleep for a while.

  Upon waking, she realized that returning to New Zealand to start locating Thomas was the first thing. She was a little sad at that idea, and also worried about being away from where her children were. There was still the hope that she may be able to see them soon, although she also hadn’t really worked out a plan for that either. When she’d arrived in Sydney two months earlier, the only thought she’d really had was to be close to Maureen and Lewis and somehow get them back, perhaps by being able to appeal to Nate. Again, it felt like a very big problem. At least singing again and performing took her mind off things for the most part each day.

  She busied herself with some mending for a while, and thought over the whole of the past year. The gentle rhythm of needle and thread doing its task helped to ease her mind and let the events float unbidden. With a jolt, she remembered that Thomas had in fact ended up in Sydney back when they first married and Nate arranged some work her to get him out of the way. But where? And how could she find out?

  This played on her mind through the rest of the day, and she finally went to work with her head pounding on the subject of how to locate someone who may not even exist under the name she knew.

  To her surprise and delight, Gregory was at the show that evening, and during her break, she found herself standing at the bar having a very brief conversation, mostly about the crowd and the songs she had sung in the last set. He was very different as a man, and Margaret found it sometimes fuddled her mind to try and merge the two people into the one person. As she was about to go back on stage however, he briefly gripped her arm and said: “Come see me tomorrow - I have news.”

  With that he turned nonchalantly back to the bar and ignored her as she walked back to the band.

  The next morning, she arose early and dressed quickly. Solange was busy with another customer when she arrived at the store, so she waited, impatiently for her to be free. Finally, Solange turned to her, after making a big fuss over and then waving farewell to her customer, then turning the Closed sign around on the door and rushing over to where Margaret was standing. Taking both hands in her own, she kissed each, then indicated a seat at the big white table. “My dear Margaret, it’s always so lovely to see you. Welcome back to La Casa!”

  Margaret wondered if this air of effeminate play was the real Solange, or if the retired army captain was more real. She decided to ask. “Solange, you are so lovely, and I think that color looks wonderful on you. Please tell me, do you really prefer to wear soft silks or gabardine gray?” She let the question hang for a moment, hoping that Solange would pick up on the hidden meaning within the question. She was not disappointed.

  “Are you asking which version of myself I prefer to be?”

  “Yes, I suppose I am really.”

  “Why?”

  “Why not? I thought we were friends. After all, you now know an awful lot about me. Please, share with me more of who you really are.” Solange looked very uncomfortable, and shades of Gregory could be seen clearly on her face. Margaret leaned forward and clutched her friend’s hand. “Please?”

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Margaret waited for Solange to compose herself and start her story. Over the next hour, Solange introduced her to Gregory, their shared history, and how she managed both of her distinctly separate personalities. “You see my dear, sometimes it is necessary to be Gregory, and I learned during my army years, that sometimes, survival depends on knowing how to be the ultimate chameleon. When Gregory needs to come out, he does. But over the years, my role as Solange has become more of who I truly am. You see my dear, the role of Solange is so very far away from that of who I am as a man, that no-one, bar a very small handful of people, is even aware of their separate existences. This serves me well. And sometimes disappearing for a while into Gregory serves me very well indeed. Which now brings me to why I wanted you to come see me today. I have something for you. But first, tea.” She sprang up and headed to the kitchen where the kettle was employed to create hot water, tea was poured and soon they were both back at the white table sipping from their cups.

  “What is it that you wish to tell me then?” Margaret finally asked, unable to contain her curiosity any longer.

  “I am unable to share with you any of why or how I came by this knowledge, and I will ask you to always respect our friendship and never ask. Just please trust that I have it, and will share it for your own peace of mind as I wish nothing but that for you.”

  Margaret was unsure what to say and even more curious than ever now about what might follow, so simply nodded her acceptance of Solange’s request.

  “I have news of your children.” Margaret gasped in surprise. It was the last thing she expected Solange to say. Maureen is well, actually they are both well, and are being cared for properly of course. A nanny has been engaged to help support the care of them, as their grandmother has relatively little interest in them on a day to day basis. Maureen, it seems, is constantly upset and argues with her grandmother about you, and wants to know when they will be returning to New Zealand. It appears that Mrs Cook either simply does not understand, or does not wish to consider, the issue from the perspective of the child. And so, they argue - a lot. This frequently ends either in tears or with something being broken, and Mrs Cook seems to be fast getting to the end of her tether with all the drama. So that of course is a concern.

  “It appears that Mrs Cook once did meet with someone from an adoption agency, but that was quite some time ago now, and nothing further has happened. The children’s father, Nathaniel, has been and gone several times over the past few months, and never stays very long, but while he is there, the children are much happier, and yet he and his mother argue constantly, mostly about the children, and about their mother. You.”

  Solange sat back and allowed Margaret the time to absorb all that she’d just shared. Gregory had gathered all this information from Kaiden only the day before, so it was all current. For that he was grateful, and seeing the tears well in his friend’s eyes now, with gratitude and despair, she was very glad she’d hastened to share the news.

  “Thank you. Thank you so very much. I am grateful for this news more than you might possibly know.” Margaret reached over and squeezed Solange’s hand for the second time that day, and this time held it for a moment, taking comfort in the physical contact.

  They agreed that the best thing now was for Margaret to write a brief note to Maureen explaining that she was nearby, but not to reveal that to Lewis or to Mrs Cook under any circumstances. And that it was dreadfully important for her to be good, and patient for a little while longer, until Mummy was able to find a way to talk with Daddy. Sealing the note, she gave it to Solange to arrange delivery and sat back down, wondering if her friend might be able to advise her about the new developments in her situation. Deciding that it was likely she could, Margaret drew a deep breath and launched into sharing her own news.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  “Mother I simply can’t believe you think this is OK to even think about. I a
bsolutely will not separate those kids, and you have no right at all to hand over anyone to the authorities.”

  Nathaniel was livid. He’d come home to Sydney ready to settle in better as the father to Lewis and Maureen in the wake of their mother’s disappearance and found that his mother had received a letter from an adoption agency. Learning for the first time that she had started to take action on getting rid of Maureen was a brutal affront to him. How did he not see this coming?

  “Darling, I know it seems like a big thing, but seriously, the child is not yours, she’s the illegitimate brat whose father could very well be just about any Tom, Dick or Harry. She looks so much like her mother, so I thought that might also be upsetting for both you and the boy… but more than that, she’s simply not settling in well here…” Sybil trailed off, hearing her own words sounding lame as they fell from her lips. She’d have to do better than that to win this argument, her inner voice was obnoxious even to her own mind.

  Nathaniel looked at her and frowned even harder, if that we possible. “I will not tolerate this line of thinking. And that’s the end of it.” He poured himself another shot of whiskey from the crystal decanter on the sideboard. Slugging it back quickly, he looked at the empty glass and then flung it into the fireplace.

  “Nathaniel! That was totally uncalled for.” The action prompted Sybil to regain some lost ground on the debate over Maureen, and she stepped back into her indignance like someone pulling on a well-worn glove. Straightening her back as she stood and squared off to her son, her mouth firmed over the words. “You know as well as I do that if Margaret had not lied about herself, possibly countless times already, Maureen would already have been in care and so most likely would Lewis. She’s not fit to be anyone’s mother, least of all to my grandson!”

  “You know very well that she’s been a damned good mother to those children, and the circumstances of her life are what they are, she’s not a criminal, and she’s not dangerous of mind. And I happen to love her very much, so back off!”

  “You’ll get over that soon enough, love! You’re in lust maybe, thinking like a man chasing after some tramp that caught you up and decided you were a good catch; a lounge room floozy and she knew you were married. She’s hardly the kind of woman who should be raising children; and what will the future look like? It’s not an option for Maureen to stay here for the next few years, and you can’t raise her, as you are away a lot. I’m happy to have a nanny for the boy, until he’s old enough to go to school…”

  “What do you mean old enough to go to… yes I can see you’d think it more than all right to pack him off to boarding school in a couple of years. Jesus, Mother! You really are something! I don’t even know who you are anymore.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” Sybil suddenly grew quiet. He should have seen that as a warning. But didn’t.

  “You have always been a cold fish, and God knows how Dad puts up with you sometimes, you just don’t have any heart at all do you.”

  “You’ve no idea!” With that Sybil swept from the room, allowing the door to slam behind her. Striding up the stairs, she didn’t see Maureen and Lewis standing near the doorway to their rooms, watching and listening to the argument between their father and grandmother. Maureen didn’t hear all of it, but knew enough to work out the gist of what was happening. Taking Lewis’ hand, she led him back into his room, found a story book to give him, then settled him into the big chair in the corner and told him she’d be back in a few minutes.

  Going downstairs, she pushed open the door to the front room, and observed her Daddy - as she’d thought of him since she was barely old enough to walk - standing with stooped shoulders by the big bay window, looking out at the harbor view. “Daddy?” Perhaps he didn’t hear her. She went up to him then and put her small hand in his. “Daddy? Is Grandmother going to send us away?”

  Nathaniel looked down at the smaller image of Margaret and forced a smile. “Sweetheart, I’m going to do everything I can to ensure that does not happen.” He squatted down beside her then and looked up at her. “Grandmother doesn’t seem to be the warmest of grandmas, does she? I’m so sorry. We’ll work through this. And for now, I’m going to be staying for a while, so we might just work on having a bit of fun, aye? Take our minds off things a bit. What do you say to our having a day on a big harbor cruise tomorrow? I’ll take you and Lewis out for the day, and we’ll have ice-cream, and some cake maybe?”

  Maureen nodded her head with pleasure at the idea. It would be so good to get out of here, and time with Daddy was always good fun. “Daddy?”

  “Yes dear?”

  “When will Mummy come and visit us?”

  Nathaniel thought for a moment before answering, not wanting to give her false hope yet. “Soon I hope.” He patted her hand, “Soon.”

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  He looked at her in disbelief. She was older, heavier maybe and her hair was dark now; she was certainly dressed far more provocatively than he'd ever seen her before. But there was no mistaking that voice, the curve of her jaw when she hit a high note, or the way she strutted across the stage. It was definitely Margaret.

  He sat back in the darkness of his booth and looked down into his glass. The finest scotch wobbled slightly as did his hand. as he held the glass up to his lips. He remembered far too much, far too soon, as the amber liquid ran down his throat. Oh, the ecstasy of her firm breasts in his hands, her rosy nipples, and the way her brilliant hair fell around his face as she straddled him. He opened his eyes and looked at the stage once again. Margaret McKenzie. He knew why she was here and could easily guess at how long she had been here in Sydney, but he had no idea what she was planning to do.

  There were only two things he was absolutely sure of: one was that he still craved her desperately, and two, that he could do absolutely nothing about it.

  He waited until she finished, half hoping she would and also terrified she would not, see him sitting in the booth at the back near the bar. As she ended the final song in the set, she raised her head and her arms, and could have been cradling the world, as her eyes closed and she surrendered to the majesty of the last note played by the saxophonist, Terry. Holding the pose for as long as she could, she then graciously accepted the applause from the dancers and diners scattered throughout the room, with a small bow of her head and a clasping together of her hands. ‘Thank you’ she quietly mouthed as she walked off the stage and moved through the room towards the bar. There were fewer people than usual for a Thursday, but then it was only a few weeks until Christmas now and people were busy, enjoying the summer and spending more time in their back yards. Tourists were plentiful all year around, but many of those too were now frequenting some of the newer establishments in town that had opened in time for the festive season. Never mind, she was sure that she had developed a loyal following lately - a quiet night was not really a big issue.

  Hank was behind the bar tonight, and made sure that her favorite bourbon was ready when she reached him, and Tim of course was there in his usual spot at the far end. She grabbed her drink, saluted Hank in thanks and moved towards Tim. Then she spotted him, drawn like a magnet to his gaze. A bond between them that was bigger than anything she’d ever be able to describe to anyone, they were both instantly once again contained within their smoldering energies… aware only of each other in the room.

  It had always been that way - this thing between them. A fierce lightning strike of emotions catapulted each into the memory of each other’s kisses, smell, strength and while some may have called it lust, it had endured so far for nearly 20 years. Clearly it was still there, despite the traumatic circumstances of the last time they had seen each other.

  Margaret had certainly not intended to talk with Nate under these kinds of circumstances, having decided she much preferred to have an opportunity to compose herself, and her words to him when they next met. But now she realized that deferring their meeting until such a time was not an option. Not only was there far too mu
ch to be said, but she missed him terribly, and she needed to talk with him about their children.

  She moved almost without free will in the direction of his booth and, as she approached, he looked longingly at her and felt a sudden impulse to weep. Fighting it, he choked back the last of his drink and set down his glass, eyes never leaving hers. The prickle of tears at the back of his eyes, and the burning liquid from his glass nearly choking him, he waited for her to speak, fearful of betraying his emotions if he tried to.

  “What… well, hello... what… look what the cat dragged in tonight!” She was very unsure what to say, and it all came out with a rush.

  “Margaret.” It came out as a whisper and she watched as her name fell from his lips. Sliding into the booth opposite him, she set her own drink down on the table and waited for more. It took a while - there was a deep need for them to reveal everything, and nothing, to each other through dark eyes, and memories leapt up between them like duelists at dawn. “Looking good up there. You still got it.” Nate, as he preferred to be called, especially by her, was referring of course to the fact that he had been the one to discover her extraordinary talent as a singer before the war.

  “Nate, I, what are you doing here?”

  “Perhaps I should ask you that question. How long have you been turning tricks here?”

  “I am NOT turning tricks, as you put it - I’m singing and earning an income, while I figure out the best way to get my children away from your mother.” Indignant to say the least, she was hurt too by his casual tone. He knew full well she’d never have stooped to such levels, and was far from being a common whore, but she also knew that he was hurt, and when he was hurt, he was prone towards exposing his mean streak; one she imagined he must have inherited from Sybil Cook. She’d personally only experienced this awful side of him a couple of times in her life so far, and it was not something she wished to deal with now. There was far too much at stake.