Child Of Music

by Mary Burchell

  She thought of the way Julia Morton had looked at her not half an hour ago and was sorely tempted to argue the point. But her better judgment prevailed. If she could not accept that with submissive words, at least she could remain silent, which she did. And after a moment he went on,

  'Apart from that, I see no reason why you should not be a great success. I noticed at that concert with everyone of those girls that, scared though they might be, they were all deeply involved. Not one of them looked even remotely bored.'

  'Bored? Oh, no, I don't think any pupils of mine are bored. But I shouldn't have thought that any student of the Tarkman standard ran any danger of that. Boredom argues a certain lack of intelligence, doesn't it?'

  'Of course. But the lack of intelligence can be on the teacher's part as well as the pupil's.'

  'Well, that's true,' Felicity admitted with a smile. 'But at Tarkmans—'

  'At Tarkmans, Miss Grainger,' he interrupted, 'inevitably there is far more specialization — and discipline — than elsewhere. Training has to be intensive if there is to be success beyond the average. But the danger inherent in that is that a sort of mechanical brilliance can set in, and the means can become more important than the end.'

  'I know.' She nodded. 'Just as it's true that "without vision the people perish" so without inspiration the artist stifles. And although inspiration almost invariably comes from within, it's the teacher's business to — what was that? — open new windows and point to fresh horizons.'

  'Exactly.' And then he added, 'I thought you were the right person. Now I know it.'

  She was so moved and flattered that for a moment or two she could think of nothing but her own deep satisfaction. It was not only that the praise of a man like Stephen Tarkman was indescribably pleasing. It was also that his words seemed to confer some accolade on all that she had striven for in her work. She was in a daze of happiness, until he suddenly said,

  'I think we've gone past your turning, haven't ' we?'

  'Oh—' she glanced out of the window - 'yes, we have. Quite a long way past. I'm sorry, I wasn't noticing.'

  'It doesn't matter. I'll back and turn here.'

  He did so. And it was as the headlights of his car swept an arc of light along and across the lane that Felicity leaned forward and exclaimed sharply, 'Wait! There's a child walking — Drive on the way we were going. I think there's something wrong—'

  He followed her instructions immediately. And, as the lights caught the small moving figure again, Felicity said, in a distressed half-whisper, 'She's in — in a nightdress, with nothing on her feet. It's Janet. I thought it was! She must be sleep-walking or something. Draw up quietly.'

  Stephen Tarkman drew the car to a standstill a few yards beyond the walking child, and made as though to get out. But Felicity said almost fiercely, 'No! I'll get her.'

  'Be careful. Don't wake her suddenly.'

  'No, it's all right.' Felicity slipped out of the car and went back towards Janet, who showed no sign at all of seeing her.

  'Darling—' Very gently Felicity took her hand, which was frighteningly cold, and walked a few yards with her. 'Come home with me now. You must be tired and want your bed.5

  'Tired,' Janet agreed with a small sigh. 'Tired. But I don't want to see Aunt Julia.'

  They had come level with the car now and Stephen Tarkman, standing at the open door, could not fail to hear what was said. But Felicity, still in the same soothing, matter-of-fact tone, replied firmly, 'You don't have to see your Aunt Julia, dear. Come with me, Janet. It's Miss Grainger.'

  'Miss Grainger—' Janet drew against her suddenly. 'I'm cold. Terribly, terribly cold. But I don't want—'

  'I know, dear. Come in the warm with me.' Again Stephen Tarkman moved to take over, but Felicity shook her head and whispered, 'She doesn't know you. She might be frightened.' And he let her half lift Janet into the car, though it was something of an effort.

  'There's a rug,' he murmured, handing that in to her, and she wrapped it round Janet and drew her close again.

  At that the child half roused herself and said in a tone of great surprise, 'Miss Grainger! Where on earth—? What happened?'

  'It's all right, Janet. You're quite safe. You went walking in your sleep. But now I'm taking you home.' And then to Stephen Tarkman, who was back in the driving seat by now, she said, 'If you turn and drive back the way we came, the Emlyns' house is just opposite the big oak tree with the wooden bench under it.' Janet yawned suddenly and completely naturally. 'I was dreaming,' she said. 'I thought Aunt Julia was coming to hear me play—' then she stopped, gave a funny apologetic little laugh, as though she realized she was being silly, and asked, 'How did you find me, Miss Grainger?'

  'Mr. Tarkman was driving me home from a party—'

  'Is that Mr. Tarkman?' Janet interrupted in a discreet whisper, and she raised her head and peeped past Felicity with an air of interested respect.

  He said, 'Hello, Janet,' in a friendly, matter-of-fact tone.

  But her answering, 'Hello,' was shy and subdued. And, dropping her head back against Felicity again, she remained silent until they arrived at the Emlyns' house.

  It looked, Felicity thought, as though Janet's absence had already been discovered, for late though it was, lights shone from every window in the small house. And the moment there was the sound of a car stopping, the front door was snatched open by an eager hand and Mrs. Emlyn, in a dressing gown, came running down the short path to the gate.

  'It's all right, Mrs. Emlyn, we've got Janet quite safe,' Felicity called softly. And poor Mrs. Emlyn looked in at the open window of the car and said in quite a shaky voice,

  'Oh, you silly, naughty little girl! What have you been doing, wandering right away out of the house like that? I'd have locked the door if I'd even thought of such a thing. It's bad enough when you do it in the house—'

  'I'm sorry.' Janet put out a hand and touched Mrs. Emlyn with a sort of affectionate confidence which deeply touched Felicity. 'I was asleep, I didn't know. But it's all right. Miss Grainger and Mr. Tarkman found me.'

  'But you've next to nothing on!' Mrs. Emlyn clucked her tongue distressfully as she took in the meagreness of Janet's attire. 'You might have caught your death of cold. She worries me — really, she does, Miss Grainger. This is the third time. As you know, it's that wretched aunt of hers that preys on her mind, and when she gets upset she always—'

  'Wouldn't it be better to postpone discussion and get Janet safely to bed?' interrupted Stephen Tarkman coolly.

  And Mrs. Emlyn, recognizing the tone of masculine authority, said, 'Yes, of course. Give her here to me, Miss Grainger. Goodness, child, you've no shoes on! Well, you're just a slip. I can carry you.'

  'I'll carry her.' Stephen Tarkman leaned forward and scooped Janet up in his arms.

  'Be careful with her,' Felicity said sharply.

  'What else should I be?' His mocking eyes met hers challenging over Janet's smooth head. And Felicity felt suddenly foolish and just said, 'Good night, Janet. Sleep well now.'

  She watched the tall figure of Stephen Tarkman, carrying Janet so easily, follow Mrs. Emlyn into the house. Then she sat back in her seat and allowed her anxiety and anger to take full hold on her.

  That wretched Julia Morton! Trouble-maker that she was. And Stephen Tarkman had had the effrontery to accuse her, Felicity, of letting her prejudices get the better of her.

  He ought to be feeling — and looking — pretty small by now. But she did not think that feeling small came easily to Stephen Tarkman. Instead he had looked at her in that challenging way and made her feel silly just because she wanted a little extra tenderness for Janet just now.

  But even he could hardly explain away what Mrs. Emlyn had said. She at least could not be accused of prejudice. And her opinion of Julia Morton had come out as clearly and innocently as possible. No wonder he had wanted the discussion cut short ! But he should not get away with that so easily, Felicity decided suddenly.

  And when he retu
rned a few minutes later and got back into the car, she said without preamble, And what about my prejudices now?'

  He started the car before he answered. Then he said, but not at all defensively, 'What do you mean by that?'

  'You know perfectly well what I mean.' She had forgotten for the moment that he had given her a wonderful evening and offered her a stimulating job. She only knew that he had rather mockingly put her in the wrong and that she had no intention of staying there. 'A little while ago,' she reminded him sweetly, 'you more or less accused me of allowing my prejudices to run away with me. Now you heard for yourself what Mrs. Emlyn said about Julia Morton.'

  'Yes, I heard.' His tone was not that of a man who felt in the wrong. 'She said, 'As you know, Miss Grainger, it's her aunt who upsets her—" or some such words. The "as you know" interested me. I take it that you and Mrs. Emlyn have had a satisfying talk about Mrs. Morton and that you have transferred your views to her. Gossip of that kind isn't advisable in a place like this. What I said about your prejudices was justified, I think.'

  Felicity gasped aloud.

  'I never exchanged a word about her with Mrs. Emlyn,' she exclaimed indignantly. 'I shouldn't dream of doing such a thing!'

  'Well, if not directly, then by way of Janet, who has been encouraged, I'm afraid, to—'

  'So Janet must be dragged into it too!' Felicity turned to him, her cheeks hot with indignation and her eyes bright. 'In fact, everyone must be guilty except Julia Morton. Who's being prejudiced now?'

  'Perhaps I am,' he admitted quite unperturbed. 'But where Julia is concerned you must allow me a little prejudice, I'm afraid. I am going to marry her. This is your house, isn't it?'

  'Y-yes,' said Felicity in a very small voice indeed. And then, as he came round to open the car door for her, she managed to get out a few more words. 'I'm — sorry, Mr. Tarkman. I couldn't know you were so personally involved.'

  'No, you couldn't know,' he agreed. 'But that's what I meant about not letting your prejudices run away with you. Expressed in your rather forceful way—' his smile softened that a little, but only a little - 'they can be quite formidable.'

  'I'm sorry,' she said again, and she looked as though all the joy and light had gone out of the evening.

  Perhaps he noted that and was sorry in his turn, because he said in a businesslike way, 'I'll phone Mrs. Bush in the morning and arrange for us all to discuss details of the Tarkman appointment. We're hoping to have you for two afternoons and at least one evening a week, if that's acceptable to you and her.'

  'Oh, it is! I mean it is to me,' she assured him fervently. Then, fearing that she might have sounded too slavishly glad to be back on friendly terms again, she managed to lighten her voice and say with a rueful smile, 'And please forgive my final gaffe and let me say again how much I have to thank you for a wonderful evening.'

  'It was quite an evening for me too, you know.' He held her hand for a moment and smiled down at her. 'Tonight you accepted a lift from me without reservations.'

  'Without reservations?' She looked puzzled.

  'Once,' he reminded her not very kindly, 'I heard you say that you'd rather go home on hands and knees than accept a lift from me. I feel I've made some progress.'

  Then he got back into the car and drove away, leaving Felicity feeling dismayed and charmed and indefinably excited all at once.

  As she let herself in, Mary called from her room, 'Come on in. I'm wide awake and want a blow-by- blow account.'

  She went into the room immediately and stood there smiling, ready to give a full account of her evening. But suddenly the priorities seemed to arrange themselves in strange order and, quite unbidden, the words which rose to her lips were, 'He's going to marry Julia Morton.'

  'Was that what he invited you there to discuss?' Mary looked amused and curious.

  'No, of course not. He wanted to offer me a job at Tarkmans.'

  'That's better!' Mary declared. 'To teach at Tarkmans—' she savoured the announcement as though she were tasting something with a sharp but delicious flavour. 'Just about the highest compliment that could be paid you, I suppose. Are you going to take it?'

  'Why, of course, Mary!'

  'Even though he's going to marry Julia Morton?'

  'What on earth could that have to do with my decision to go and teach at Tarkmans?' Felicity stared at her friend.

  'I wondered,' Mary said. 'I — wondered. You gave me as your first and most important piece of news the fact that he was going to marry Mrs. Morton. The bit about his incredible offer to you came second. Was that just by chance, or an instinctive arranging of the facts in their order of importance to you?'

  'Neither. And don't make idiotic insinuations,' Felicity replied crossly. 'The fact was that he'd just told me about his — his coming marriage. Only a minute or two before we said good night. It was the most recent thing in my mind when I came in. That and the fact that we came across Janet sleep-walking along the lane. She'd nothing on but her nightdress, poor little thing. Not even slippers on her feet.'

  She launched into an account of the scene quickly and in some detail, not realizing at that moment that she was instinctively fending off any return to the absurd line of thought which Mary had introduced.

  But much later when, having told Mary the whole story of the evening, she was alone in her own room, she went to the window and stood looking out into the moonlit garden. From the church across the meadows came the sound of the half-hour striking, and she knew it must be half-past two. Hardly the moment to linger in thought, with her bed waiting invitingly for her. But she stood there for minutes on end, thinking of the wonderful evening Stephen Tarkman had given her, of the offer he had made her — and the fact that he was going to marry Julia Morton.

  She told herself it was natural to feel disturbed about the last fact, if only on Janet's account. She told herself it was understandably tiresome to have to start the glorious new job inhibited by the fact that she must tread warily in the near presence of an undoubted enemy. After a while, however, she told herself just that she was sorry Stephen Tarkman was going to marry - anyone. '

  And then she went to bed.

  During the next few days everything began to arrange itself with a speed which surprised Felicity, but which was evidently characteristic of Stephen Tarkman.

  The discussion between her, Mrs. Bush and Stephen Tarkman was clear, to the point and eminently satisfactory to all parties. Stephen Tarkman got exactly what he wanted. Mrs. Bush was gratified to realize that to have her music-mistress also teaching at Tarkmans would confer a distinction on her own school. And Felicity was left with the pleasant impression that both valued her services highly.

  In spite of all her preoccupation with the new turn of affairs, however, she still found time to telephone to Anthea. And the two met over coffee at the War- renders' hotel while the conductor himself attended his board meeting at the Tarkman Foundation.

  'Everything is settled,' Felicity told Anthea, a lilt of pure happiness in her voice. 'I'm to start at Tarkmans next week, doing two afternoon sessions with the younger children, and one evening with the older students. A sort of "music appreciation" talk to suit the different age groups. Something to make their tops spin and make them, realize that hard work and exciting discoveries go hand in hand.'

  'Stephen thinks a lot of you, doesn't he?' Anthea smiled affectionately at her.

  'Oh, I don't know.' The possibility seemed suddenly almost dangerously sweet, but Felicity repressed any temptation to over-confidence.

  'He does,' Anthea asserted calmly. 'I heard him say so to Oscar. And I tell you who didn't like it one little bit. Julia Morton. She gave that cool, disparagingly little laugh of hers, raised her eyebrows and said doubtfully, "Have you all that much confidence in her, Mr. Warrender?"

  'And what,' asked Felicity with understandable interest, 'did Mr. Warrender say to that?'

  'Oh, he gave her one of those deceptively vague glances which he keeps for people who think they're
pulling wool over his eyes and said, "I don't have to. I have confidence in Stephen and he makes the staff appointments." Then he went on talking to Stephen and I think she could have boiled him in oil with pleasure.'

  Felicity laughed, but a little uneasily. She was on the point of asking Anthea if she knew about the impending marriage. But something — perhaps it was Stephen Tarkman's stinging warning about avoiding gossip — prompted her to silence. If Anthea already knew about it, she evidently regarded the information as confidential. If she did not know, it was not for Felicity to break the confidence made to her.

  She would dearly have ill-red to discuss the subject which was rapidly - and inexplicably - coming to be of disproportionate interest to her. But the visit ended without the slightest reference to it.

  'If you come to London during the season let me know.' Anthea said as she kissed Felicity good-bye. 'I don't want to lose sight of you again. And if you'd like to hear me sing any time, I'll see you have tickets.'

  Warmed by so much friendliness, and the promise of considerable future pleasure. Felicity said good-bye in her turn and went out iato the street once more to wait for her bus to Carmalton. Aggravatingly enough, she missed one by a matter of yards and settled down resignedly to a long wait. But she had not been standing at the bus stop more than three or four minutes when a car slid to a standstill beside her and Julia Morton leaned from the open window and said,

  'Jump in.. Miss Grainger. I'll give you a lift home. This time I am going your way.'

  It was impossible to refuse without discourtesy. And, in any case, a lift in a car was greatly to be preferred to a wait of indefinite duration. Even a lift from Julia Morton. So Felicity smiled, her thanks as agreeably as she could and got into the car. Though she did wander» as they shot away down the sleepy main street, how she was going to sustain light conversation with Julia Morton all the way to Carmalton.

  She need not have worried, however. The initiative was not left to her. They had hardly drawn clear of the main street before Julia said, as though she had a right to know, 'How far has this idea of your teaching at Tarkmans gone?'