Remembered Serenade (Warrender Saga Book 9)

by Mary Burchell

  And then the party broke up, and they contentedly went their separate ways, though Mrs. Ransome did observe in the taxi that Oscar Warrender was a slave-driver. ‘But an attractive one,’ she conceded.

  ‘He’s a great man,’ said Joanna indignantly.

  ‘He’s a sensible man,’ said Aunt Georgina, ‘which is more important,’ Then she yawned prodigiously and added that it had been a very remarkably evening, all told.

  As soon as they reached home she went up to bed.

  But Joanna and her mother lingered for a few minutes longer, neither of them willing to put an end to this incredible evening. And it was then that Mrs, Ransome said as an afterthought, ‘By the way, I saw Elliot Cheam in the house.’

  ‘You — what?’ Joanna choked slightly on the word. ‘Did you speak to him?’

  ‘No. I was just going over to do so, but he evidently didn’t see me. He walked off in the other direction and I lost him in the crowd.’

  ‘I see,’ said Joanna. And suddenly she felt that the magic had gone out of the evening. So she said good night to her mother and went upstairs to her bed, where she lay awake and watched the stars through her bedroom window until they began to fade in the first pale light of the morning. And then she fell asleep.

  No one woke her next morning until she came to the surface of her own accord. But then, when she looked at the time, she sprang out of bed, her confidence suddenly plummeting, and ran to call her mother

  ‘Mother, Mother, I’m awake! What do the papers say? Is it — bad, after all?’

  Her mother came hurrying up the stairs, a pile of newspapers clutched to her bosons

  ‘Darling, I was longing to wake you! But Georgina wouldn’t let me.’ It struck neither of them as strange that Aunt Georgina should tell them what to do in their own house. ‘But they’re all wonderful! Every single one, except one silly man who says the best singing of the evening came from the tenor.’

  ‘Well, it did,’ replied Joanna. ‘Brenner carried the vocal weight of the evening and carried it superbly. You must allow him that.’

  On her mother’s insistence she went back to bed, where she lay surrounded by the morning’s papers, while Mrs, Ransome went down to get her breakfast because, as she said, to this extent at least she intended to treat her daughter as a prima donna.

  None of it seemed quite real to Joanna as she read one glowing notice after another. That this was nice Mr. Fulroyd’s work they were praising so lavishly seemed quite understandable and just, That Oscar Warrender was said to have conducted superbly and Nicholas Brenner to have added a magnificent portrait to his repertoire — that was quite natural too. But this girl — this unknown girl who had ‘virtually disarmed criticism’ as one account put it, and enraptured public and critics alike — that this should be herself, Joanna Ransome, was not to be believed.

  ‘It doesn’t seem possible, does it?’ she said dazedly, as her mother came in with the breakfast tray.

  ‘Not really,’ Mrs, Ransome confessed. ‘Though of course , always knew you had it in you to be famous one day,’ she added loyally,

  ‘No, you didn’t, Pansy — any more than anyone else,’ declared Aunt Georgina, coming in at this moment to say good-bye before going to catch her Green Line bus. ‘And don’t let all this turn your head, Joanna.’ She gestured towards the newspapers on the bed.

  ‘No, Aunt Georgina,’ Joanna smiled happily at her. ‘Though with that sensible Warrender man, you won’t probably have much chance,’ she added. ‘Nor with that strange old Russian woman. What did she really have to do with it, Joanna?’

  ‘Almost everything,’ Joanna declared, attacking her breakfast with good appetite, ‘Except for what Sir Oscar did, I mean,’

  ‘Well, modesty is always seemly,’ said her aunt, as she dropped a kiss on the top of Joanna’s head, ‘but don’t under-value yourself too sharply. That’s just as silly as boasting.’

  And on this sensible dictum she took her leave.

  Even after she had finished her breakfast, and her mother had gone downstairs again, Joanna lay there, still savouring the incredibility of all that had happened, And then, suddenly, she found that her thoughts were veering round from her triumph to the situation with Elliot.

  She would have to see him and thank him for what he had done. Common decency and gratitude demanded that. Equally, self-respect demanded that she should know how much she owed him and assure him that the loan — for loan it must be — would be repaid.

  It would not be an easy conversation, wherever it took place... Which brought her round to the simple problem — where could it take place? It was not a conversation to be conducted across a restaurant table or in a car. Still less could she ask him to come here to her home. Even supposing she could somehow ensure that her mother was out, it was unthinkable that they should meet again in the room where they had had that last horrible, violent scene of recrimination.

  She had never been to his flat, and this was not the moment to insist on making a first visit there. And if she went to the theatre and asked for him he might well not be there, or refuse to see her. Worse still, Sara might, somehow wander into the picture.

  ‘But I must find some way,’ she told herself. And at that moment her mother called upstairs to say that Anthea Warrender was on the telephone,

  Joanna snatched up a wrap and ran downstairs to take the call,

  ‘How do you feel this morning?’ Anthea’s gay voice inquired, and the lilt of happiness in it showed that she too had read all the favourable notices,

  ‘How did you feel, the morning after your first success as Desdemona?’ Joanna countered,

  ‘Like heaven,’ replied Anthea promptly. ‘But then I’d just got engaged to Oscar the night before, so I can’t really tell you which was the more thrilling.’ ‘That must have been — wonderful.’ Joanna was unaware of the catch in her own voice, ‘Since he was the one man you wanted, I mean.’

  ‘It’s a wonderful moment when it happens — as you’ll find, my dear, one day,’ Anthea declared, ‘But I won’t stop to speculate now. Here is Oscar to speak to you.’

  And then Warrender’s deep, pleasant voice said, ‘Good morning, starlet. It seems the work was all worthwhile.’

  ‘Oh, Sir Oscar, of course it was! and I can never, never thank you and Madame Volnikov enough.’

  ‘Well, it wasn’t all on one side, you knowa A pupil who satisfies one’s every hope and expectation is a pretty good present to any teacher. You are a good child and earned your success. Also I’m sure Wilmore must think now that his money was very well spent.’ ‘His — ? Oh, he provided only part of it, Sir Oscar. Most of it was provided by Elliot Cheam.’

  ‘Was it, indeed?’ Warrender sounded intrigued, ‘Who told you that?’

  ‘Mr. Wilmore did. I started to thank him last night, and he explained that in the end it — it was largely Elliot’s doing.’

  ‘Very handsome of him,’ commented Warrender, on a note of some amusement. ‘Whose judgment was he backing, I wonder? Mine or his own?’

  ‘I don’t think,’ said Joanna diffidently, ‘that he was backing anyone’s judgment. He just knew his uncle couldn’t afford to pay for the lessons, and so he took on the obligation himself.’

  ‘Well, whatever his motive, he did what was necessary.’ The conductor sounded altogether too casual about it all, Joanna thought, and she said rather stiffly, ‘He was there last night.’

  ‘Did he come round to see you?’

  ‘No.’

  There was a pause, and then Warrender said, ‘I see.’ ‘We — quarrelled,’ Joanna found herself unable to resist the desire to go on, ‘Months ago, I mean, He thought I was cadging from his uncle. We — we haven’t seen each other since.’

  ‘Well, you’ll have to see him now,’ said Warrender’s voice bracingly, ‘if only to thank him for what he has done.’

  ‘I know. But — how?’ Jonna spoke almost to herself. ‘How?’ repeated Warrender, in the tone of one who had never had the
slightest difficulty in managing to see anyone he wanted to see. Which was of course the case. ‘The usual way, I suppose, Telephone him and say — ’

  ‘I couldn’t do that,’ said Joanna in a rather panic-stricken tone of voice, ‘We quarrelled very, very badly, Sir Oscar. A phone call wouldn’t do much good.’

  ‘Well, there must be a way. I’ll put my mind to it,’ Warrender promised, and though he sounded amused it was not unkind amusement. ‘When you come to the studio tomorrow afternoon — three o’clock, by the way — I’ll have thought of something. You mustn’t spoil your triumph with some silly quarrel.’

  It was not some silly quarrel, of course. It was a vital and shattering matter. But he was not to know that. And, in any case, she could hardly expect Oscar Warrender to deal with her personal problems. It was enough — more than enough — that he had made her famous.

  For the next few hours she entertained the ridiculous hope that Elliot might himself take the initiative and telephone. And every time the phone bell rang — which it did constantly — her hopes soared. But neither then nor the following day was there a word from him.

  But when she set off for her lesson the following afternoon her spirits lifted. For achievement is, to a true artist, like a drug; taste it and the desire for more is constant.

  The smiling maid who opened the door to her added her congratulations to those of everyone else, and then explained that Sir Oscar had just telephoned to say he had been delayed, and would Joanna mind waiting?

  ‘I don’t mind a bit. Is Lady Warrender in?’

  ‘No, Miss Joanna. She’s out too. But you go into the studio, and I’ll bring you some tea if you like.’

  Joanna refused the offer of tea, but she went into the long, beautiful room where so much of her work had been done. Pale sunlight filtered through the curtains, and the greens and golds of Anthea’s choice blended like colours in a woodland scene. On the piano was a new and charming photograph of Anthea herself, and Joanna was just studying this with pleasure when the sound of voices in the hall told her that Warrender had returned.

  As the door opened, she turned smilingly towards it. But the smile was struck from her face. For the man who came in was not Oscar Warrender. It was Elliot.

  ‘Elliot!’ She actually fell back a pace.

  ‘Why — hello!’ He looked as astonished as she did, and almost as much put out. ‘I had no idea you were going to be here.’

  ‘And I had no idea you were coming. I — I’ve just come for a lesson.’

  ‘Warrender must have mistaken the time,’ he muttered. Then, with an effort, he managed a slight smile and said, ‘Do you need any lesson after Tuesday night’s performance?’

  ‘Yes, of course,’ She smiled too, but very nervously. ‘It - It was just a good beginning. Were you there, Elliot?’

  ‘Yes, I was there.’

  ‘You didn’t feel like coming round to see me?’

  ‘No.’ Long pause. ‘I didn’t think I would be welcome.’

  ‘You would have been,’ she said simply. ‘And I should have been glad of the opportunity to thank you.’

  ‘Thank me?’ He looked unnaturally blank. ‘I don’t know what you mean.’

  ‘You know perfectly well what I mean.’ Her voice shook a little, but she forced herself to go on. ‘I started to thank your uncle, and then he told me that it was you who provided most of the money. That’s why I have to thank you.’

  Perhaps it was an unfortunate choice of words, for he flushed and said, almost aggressively, ‘You don’t have to thank me for anything.’

  ‘I didn’t mean it that way! I didn’t mean there was any compulsion on me to thank you — though of course there is that too. I — I just wanted to thank you. Naturally.’

  He stared moodily at the ground and said, ‘I couldn’t let my uncle carry the whole burden.’

  ‘Of course not,’ she said coldly, because this time his choice of words was unfortunate. ‘Nor can I let either of you do so indefinitely. As I told your uncle in the beginning, any money was to be considered a loan. And now — ’ a sort of panic gripped her because all the right words were slipping away from her — ‘apart from thanking you for what you advanced, I have to ask you just how much I owe you.’

  ‘You don’t owe me anything,’ he said harshly, and turned away.

  ‘Of course I do! You don’t suppose I would accept an enormous gift of money from you, do you?’

  ‘Why not?’ He still had his back to her.:

  ‘Because,’ she said deliberately, ‘I should then be the sort of cadger you’ve always made me out to be.’

  ‘Oh, forget it!’ He swung round to face her again. ‘I never meant half the things I said.: And anyway — ’ he stared at the ground again — ‘when I saw you the other night I was — glad.’

  ‘Glad of what, Elliot?’ Insensibly a little of the hardness had melted from her voice.

  ‘I was glad to have had a hand in — that evening. Oh, you can’t buy your way into a great artistic performance, I know. But I sat there thinking, “I did help her in a tiny, unimportant way, after all — ”’

  He stopped abruptly, and she had the extraordinary impression that he just could not go on.

  ‘It wasn’t unimportant, Elliot,’ she said at last. ‘It was vital. Your generosity - ’

  ‘It wasn’t generosity!’ he exclaimed desperately, and suddenly he dropped into a chair and buried his face in his hands. ‘Don’t you understand?’ his voice came, muffled but so that she could hear every word. ‘I’d give anything — anything — to be able to say I did it out of generosity to you — the dearest creature in the world. But I didn’t. I did it partly from a genuine wish to help my uncle and partly out of pique and arrogance. I thought, “Let her have her chance to prove she’s no good, and then I’ll be free of her.” And all the time — ’

  ‘Don’t, dear! Elliot — ’ she came and knelt beside him — ‘you don’t have to say these things.’

  ‘I do have to say them! It’s time they were said. There’s been too much unsaid. You couldn’t say anything, could you? any more than that poor silent girl on the stage. You weren’t even allowed to do your own pleading.’

  He sat up and looked at her haggardly. Then suddenly he caught her against him so tightly that it hurt.

  ‘When I watched you the other night, telling all your thoughts with the movement of your hands, the turn of your head, the touching expressiveness of your face, it was as though you were speaking to me alone, and telling me what a crass, unknowing brute I’d been.’

  ‘You weren’t meant to think that at all,’ she murmured in protest, but she also put up a silent prayer of thankfulness to Madame Volnikov.

  ‘Perhaps not. But the message came over so clearly that I couldn’t have stayed in the place except for that small rag of comfort — the thought that I’d helped you with the money, even if from the wrong motives. Please don’t take even that away from me, Joanna. Please don’t.’

  ‘But I wouldn’t take it away from you for the world. Not now,’ she said, touching his cheek with a sort of dawning confidence. ‘It isn’t the moment for taking away, Elliot. It’s a moment for giving.’

  ‘Giving?’ he repeated, with something between doubt and hope in his voice. ‘Giving — what?’

  ‘Reassurance to each other, I suppose. Forgiveness, if that’s the word. And then — oh, I don’t know what else, except that I love you, and I give you that with all my heart.’

  ‘Joanna — ’ he passed his hand over her hair again, almost wondering that time — ‘is it really as simple as that? That we can say now that we love each other — and the rest is somehow behind us?’

  ‘I don’t know what else we should say.’ She smiled at him almost mischievously. ‘Nothing else matters very much, does it? Except to say thank you for something else that was given to both of us this afternoon. The chance to explain to each other at last.’

  ‘You’re right.’ He laughed as he kissed her. ‘That
was a very kind gift of fate, wasn’t it?’

  ‘I don’t think that was fate,’ said Joanna, as she heard a step in the hall. ‘I think that was Oscar Warrender. It was thanks to him that you were summoned here at the exact time of my lesson.’

  ‘Nonsense.’ Elliot looked amused but unconvinced. ‘He just got the times mixed. Wasn’t that it?’ he added, turning to Warrender as he entered the room. ‘You got your appointments mixed, and your timing wasn’t too good this afternoon, was it?’

  ‘My timing, my dear fellow,’ said the conductor agreeably, ‘appears to me to have been absolutely faultless. I invited you here at the hour of Joanna’s lesson, in the belief that you would like to hear her at work. You seem to be in the right mood for it. Shall we begin?’

  And he went towards the piano.

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