The Moonlit Garden

by Bomann, Corina

  “No wonder the world was fascinated by her. I’d say this is one of the best violinists in the whole world. What do you think, Bob?”

  “I’d say only Paganini played better,” the technician replied, also clearly very moved by this snippet of music.

  “How about you, Lilly?”

  Gabriel’s penetrating gaze rested on her in a way she found unsettlingly pleasant.

  “It—it’s—it was wonderful!” She was embarrassed by her stammering attempt at words, but Gabriel nodded with a smile before turning back to Henderson.

  “I’m sure we can let Mrs. Kaiser have a copy of the recording, can’t we?”

  “Of course, but it will take a moment. Can you wait?”

  “Mrs. Kaiser wanted to collect a few documents on Helen Carter anyway,” Gabriel replied for her.

  Lilly looked at him in amazement. Did she want to do that? Gabriel’s search in the basement must have been a real success.

  “That’s fine, then,” Henderson said. “I’ll bring it to you in your office, Mr. Thornton.”

  “Thanks very much, Bob.”

  Gabriel led Lilly out of the sound lab.

  “So, you’ve got some documents about Helen Carter for me?” she asked as they moved away from the door.

  Gabriel nodded meaningfully. “It was a remarkable stroke of luck. Like the recording you just heard, we found it in the box of hopeless cases.”

  “The box of what?”

  “It’s where we put all the unplayable cylinders and records,” he said with a grin.

  “Why don’t you just throw them away?”

  “You don’t throw away history!” he said in mock indignation. “We even hold on to the cylinders that can’t be read with the equipment we have at the time. New processes are being discovered all the time, enabling us to coax their old sounds from more and more of them. The box of hopeless cases is more like a box in which all the items that appear hopeless are stored away safe and sound. Like that cylinder of Rose Gallway’s recording. What a find!”

  Down in the archive, Lilly saw that Gabriel had laid out a few documents on a desk.

  “So these are the documents relating to Helen Carter?”

  “Yes, that’s right. I told you that she and her family were killed in an attack on their ship off the coast of Sumatra. I looked her up in Mrs. Faraday’s old record books and tried to find out a little about her parents.”

  “Wasn’t Sumatra once Dutch?” Lilly dimly recalled some stick puppets she had once been offered by a Dutchman. The puppets were very finely made, real miniature masterpieces, but she had been unable to imagine selling them in the center of Berlin. She had no idea what eventually became of them, but the Dutchman had told her they had come to him from his father, who had once owned a plantation on Sumatra, and that they were used for shadow plays.

  “It wasn’t only the Dutch who lived on Sumatra. There were other settlers there, too—German, French, and English. Emily Faraday kept a detailed record of her pupils, with notes on their origins and family. She was very active and followed the paths of her star pupils all over the world, even in far-flung places like Sumatra, since she believed that the most beautiful flowers can grow in hidden places. Rose Gallway’s mother was from Sumatra, although her father was English. Helen Carter was the daughter of James and Ivy Carter. Mr. Carter ran a branch of an English trading company in Padang and was a friend of Piet van Swieten, the island’s governor at the time.”

  “Could Rose Gallway and Helen Carter have known one another, do you think? Perhaps Rose gave Helen violin lessons!”

  “It’s possible, but we’ve got no evidence of it.”

  “But how else would Helen have come by the rose violin?”

  “Perhaps Rose was attacked, and the thieves sold her violin after covering up its origin.”

  “What a dreadful thought.”

  “But not impossible. How else would Rose have been parted from her priceless violin?”

  Lilly stored the information away in her mind, though as yet she had no idea what to do with it.

  “So you really have no idea where Rose Gallway could have gone?”

  “No. The violin alone could tell us that, but unfortunately it only gives us sounds, not words.”

  Gabriel searched briefly in the pile on the desk and produced a sheet of paper.

  “I’ve summarized the most important information about Helen and Rose here. Unfortunately these facts, study notes, and teachers’ reports don’t give us any insight into whether either of them had any ambitions to compose. I’d bet that the real ‘moonlit garden’ is somewhere on Sumatra—and one of these women had something to do with it.”

  Lilly gave him a searching look. “Have you played the piece yet?”

  The smile that flitted across his face gave her the answer before he could speak.

  “Of course I have. And, if you like, I’d be glad to play you my interpretation.”

  “I’m all ears.”

  Gabriel laughed. “I don’t have my violin here. And I’d like to practice a bit.”

  “OK. When do you think you’ll be ready?”

  “When you bring me the rose violin. To be honest, I was hoping you’d have it with you today.”

  “I’m sorry. Ellen’s still examining it.”

  Thornton gave her a wink. “Well, that gives me a bit more time to practice.”

  Back in Thornton’s office they waited for Henderson to bring them the recording, safely burned onto a CD. Gabriel had also made copies for her of all he had found concerning Rose Gallway and Helen Carter.

  “I think you owe me something for all these favors.” He gave her an impertinent smile as he waggled the jewel case containing the CD in front of his face.

  “What did you have in mind?” Lilly asked.

  “I was wondering about some kind of personal recompense.”

  Lilly went hot and cold. She thought of Gabriel as a respectable man, but these words sounded anything but. Or was that just her imagination?

  “And . . . what would that be?” she asked a little uncertainly.

  “How about we have dinner together sometime? You’d be paying, of course.”

  A sigh of relief escaped her. “Yes, of course. That would be the least I could do, wouldn’t it? OK, then, I’m inviting you for a meal. But you’ll have to tell me which are the best restaurants in London, since I don’t know my way around too well—I need to make sure the recompense is a worthy one, don’t I?”

  “I’ll mark down my preferences in a diners’ guide and let you have it. Can I still get hold of you at Ellen Morris’s?”

  “Yes.” Lilly felt her cheeks glowing. For a moment she and Gabriel regarded one another in silence; then she gave an embarrassed laugh. “Thanks once again.”

  “It’s my pleasure. I really hope you manage to find something out about our Rose and her violin. I think you deserve to.”

  As Lilly nodded, she heard the hoot of the taxi waiting outside.

  11

  “The test results on the varnish are back,” Ellen called out cheerfully as she entered the living room, where Lilly sat on the sofa, surrounded by a pile of papers.

  Playing back Rose’s CD recording on continuous repeat, Lilly had spread out everything Thornton had given her on the coffee table and had added some information she had printed out from the Internet. There was a lot of material on Sumatra, and Lilly had to exercise a degree of self-discipline not to get too drawn in to the wonderful images of dense palm jungles, pink skies, and delicious-looking food.

  “That’s wonderful!” she replied, putting the cap on the pen she had been using to mark the places she thought most important in the articles. “What did the lab find?”

  Ellen glanced at the papers around Lilly. “Well, you’ve had a productive day, haven’t you?”

  “Extremely. Thornton called and invited me to the music school—to listen to a recording of Rose Gallway!”

  Ellen raised her eyebrows. “Wow! So w
hat’s it like?”

  “Wonderful!” Lilly reached for the CD player remote control. Soon the slightly distorted sounds of Spring were filling the living room.

  “The recording was on a wax cylinder, and you can’t imagine the complicated procedures involved in making a decent sound recording. But tell me, what have you got on the varnish?”

  Ellen stood stock-still for a moment as if struck, obviously moved by Rose’s playing, too.

  “That’s incredible! Where—”

  “Thornton found the cylinder in a box. Apparently the recording was made in Cremona.”

  “It makes my laboratory results pale by comparison.”

  Ellen laid the envelope in her hand on a chair and sat down next to Lilly.

  “Why?”

  “Because all these test results say is that the violin originates from the early eighteenth century and that it was probably made in Cremona. And that our violin is no Stradivari.”

  “But that’s great!” Lilly cleared her throat. “I mean about the date. It may be a pity that it’s not a Stradivari, but I’m not really too worried about who the maker was.”

  “I feel a bit differently; I am interested in that aspect. But the results are only mundane theory. You’ve got a recording of Rose—from Cremona! A real clue! Does Thornton realize what treasures he’s got there?”

  “He does indeed, and he’s proud of it, too.”

  Ellen shook her head pensively, then smiled broadly. “Tell me about the recording. And where’s all this paperwork from?”

  “Some of it’s from your printer, some from Thornton himself. He also told me a few facts about Helen. I’m in the middle of sifting through it all.”

  They were interrupted by a ringtone from Ellen’s purse. She took out her cell phone and called up the message that had just arrived.

  “Oh, shit!” she said as she read the text.

  “What’s up?”

  “Something’s happened on Dean’s building site. Some wall collapsed and started a fire.”

  Lilly gasped in shock. “But he’s OK, isn’t he?”

  “Yes, thank goodness, but he’ll have to stay there until at least midnight.” She snapped her cell phone shut and then smiled. “I have an idea. Go and change into your new dress. Let’s eat out tonight! We’ve got to celebrate our new find, or our luck might run out.”

  “What about the girls?”

  “We’ll take them with us, of course.” Ellen slapped Lilly’s thigh. “Now, off you go and make yourself beautiful while I tell them.”

  Lilly shook her head. How wonderful it is not to be alone, she thought as she rose and hurried into the guest room.

  The restaurant Ellen had chosen was very elegant, but fortunately not too exalted. As they walked in, a few eyebrows were raised.

  “Maybe they think we’re a lesbian couple with children,” Ellen whispered playfully.

  “What’s lesbian?” Norma asked immediately.

  “When two women are married to each other,” Jessie explained.

  “But Aunt Lilly isn’t married to Mum,” Norma retorted.

  “I should learn to hold my tongue,” Ellen murmured. “My girls have inherited my good hearing.”

  They were shown to a table by an elegant maître d’, and a waiter introduced himself. He shook out their napkins on their laps, handed them the wine list, and told them that the meal would be preceded by a small amuse-bouche to prepare their palates.

  Lilly felt a little unnerved. She had never been to a restaurant of such refinement. Ellen’s daughters, on the other hand, seemed more used to it.

  “Tell me if I do anything wrong, won’t you?” Lilly said, turning to Jessie at her side.

  “Of course!” she said, visibly delighted to be able to help an adult.

  As a tasting course to attune their palates to the individual delights of the eight-course menu was passed around, they chatted about Ellen’s day at the institute and the treasures in Thornton’s basement archive.

  “Now that we know that Rose played there, what about a little trip to Italy?” Ellen said suddenly. “Follow in the footsteps of our little genius . . . ”

  “I have nothing against it,” Lilly replied, amazed to think how she would have hesitated before the violin arrived on the scene. “I’ve managed to clear myself two more free weeks.”

  “Is Sunny doing all right in the shop?”

  “Great! She’s not bringing in a fortune, but at least no one’s stolen anything. And she’s got some peace and quiet to get on with her studies.”

  “How many tattoos has she got now?”

  “I have no idea. You’d have to be married to her to count them all. And I doubt you’ve got a shot there, since she’s got her heart set on a tattoo artist for a husband.”

  Ellen laughed out loud, perhaps a little too loudly for the couple at the next table, who gave them astonished looks. Ellen ignored them.

  “What did she say about the video?”

  “She’s going to extract it and save it. When I’m back, I’ll show it to Mama, and if it means nothing to her, I’ll give Peter’s parents a call. If the violin is somehow connected to their family, they might want it.”

  “You can’t give that baby away so easily!” Ellen said indignantly.

  “But it doesn’t belong to me.”

  “What gives you the idea it doesn’t belong to you? You were Peter’s wife! If your in-laws have the slightest decency, and I’m assuming they do, they’ll press the violin straight back into your hands. I imagine it would be a waste of time even to try and force it on them.”

  They paused as the dessert was served. The miniature work of art made up of a chocolate mousse, a crème caramel, cream, and a selection of fruits was so beautifully arranged that Lilly hardly dared disturb it with the silver spoon. But when she did, she was rewarded with a wonderful taste that beat all she had eaten so far.

  “My goodness, if this dessert were a man, I’d be asking him for his phone number right now,” she murmured quietly enough for the waiter not to hear. Gabriel immediately sprang into her mind, and she wondered which restaurant to bring him to.

  That night, the aroma of the delicious dessert and thoughts of Gabriel Thornton haunted Lilly’s thoughts for a long time. As she gazed out the window at the moon playing hide-and-seek among scattered clouds, she tried to imagine the music, but she didn’t want to play the CD at that moment. As her inner ear failed to conjure it up, she thought instead of Gabriel’s face, which had been so close earlier in the day.

  She knew that his friendly manner probably meant nothing more than the fact that they were working on a project together and that they would probably go their separate ways when it was finished.

  But she still enjoyed picturing his eyes, the dimples in his cheeks, his generous mouth with lightly pouting lips. The way his hair fell forward as he leaned over the recording equipment. She could somehow see it all more clearly now, and the image stirred something inside her. The excitement of the activities in the sound lab had hidden the feeling, so she hadn’t noticed it at the time. But she felt it now, and a pleasant warmth spread through her. She also felt, for the first time in ages, the need to feel a man’s skin against her body.

  Gabriel’s skin.

  As she sank into sleep, cushioned in these thoughts, she heard footsteps outside her door. They were so faint that she thought it must be one of the girls. Did they want to take her dress?

  There was a sudden knock.

  “Lilly?” Ellen whispered softly.

  “Yes?”

  “Can I come in?”

  Lilly sat up. Had something happened? She hadn’t heard a car coming back.

  “Yes, of course, come in. Is something up with Dean?”

  “No, don’t worry.” Ellen sat down on the edge of Lilly’s bed like she had when they were children. “I just can’t stop thinking about Cremona. I know someone there who may be able to help us find Rose.”

  “But we’ve got Thornton,” L
illy said, once again feeling that pleasurable pull in the pit of her stomach.

  “So we have, and I don’t mean to cast doubt on his knowledge, but several pairs of eyes see more than one, and perhaps my acquaintance can find out something about her in Italy. Perhaps she turned up there again after she disappeared.”

  Lilly shook her head, but Ellen’s fervent enthusiasm was not to be dampened.

  “We really should follow every lead. And even if she was only in Cremona as a girl, that’s plenty. Don’t you want to see the city she visited? Maybe it’ll help us find out what made her tick.”

  And what’s that all got to do with me? Lilly wondered, but something held her back from voicing her doubts out loud.

  “What would you say to leaving this weekend?” Ellen said suddenly.

  Lilly gasped in surprise. “What about Dean’s building site? And the children?”

  “Norma and Jessie can manage quite well without their mummy, and Dean’s assured me it’ll all be sorted out by the weekend, and he’ll be free to look after them.”

  “When did he say that?”

  “Earlier, on the phone. He called briefly and said it wasn’t as bad as they’d feared. He’ll be back home tomorrow, and then we can begin the preparations.”

  Lilly felt increasingly overtaken by events. She had hoped to see Gabriel again tomorrow, but how could she pass up the opportunity to see Cremona?

  “When do you intend to go?” she asked, and was rewarded by a broad smile from Ellen.

  “I’ll see when the best flights are. Perhaps we can get a last-minute deal on an early-morning flight,” Ellen said.

  “OK, you look into it. I’ll transfer the money over to you as soon as I can.”

  “Fine, let’s do it. We’ll have ourselves a lovely weekend and maybe find something out about Rose in the bargain.” She stood and left the room.

  The thought of traveling to Italy gave Lilly butterflies of excitement. If only they could take Gabriel with them . . .

  Gabriel! She felt a sudden urge to tell him about the trip. After all, he may have a date in mind for our meal, she thought, but knew only too well that this wasn’t the only reason. She wanted to tell him about the plan because he was somehow important to her—even if that fact was a bit bewildering.