Music from Home

by Geraldine O'Neill

  “Good advice – and you know I always have my eye open for any of Richard’s colleagues who might suit you.”

  “I’m really sorry, Jane,” Diana said now, “but I need to hurry. I told the girls I’d be in the shop for half past nine and it’s nearly that already.”

  “Oh, you’d better rush,” Jane said, “and if I don’t make it into the shop to collect those things today, I’ll pick them up tonight or tomorrow night at your house if you don’t mind throwing them in the back of your car. Stella is driving me mad asking about the tights.”

  By the time she parked her black-and-white Mini outside La Femme, her uncomfortable conversation about finding a man with Jane Maxell was gone from her mind. But the minute she stepped inside the shop it was brought back with a vengeance as Pippa – curvy with red, curly hair and the youngest of her two staff members – came rushing towards her from behind the counter.

  “You’re not going to believe it – Elaine got engaged last night! Isn’t it fantastic?”

  Diana felt her face stiffen for a few moments, then she quickly recovered and smiled. “Oh, that’s wonderful news!”

  Then Elaine, the tall thin manageress, came out from the small staffroom at the back of the shop and Diana went forward to give her a hug.

  “Congratulations! I’m so delighted for you and Peter.” She then stepped back. “Now – let me see the ring.”

  Elaine held out her left hand to show a sparkling trio of small diamonds.

  “Oh, it’s beautiful – simply beautiful. Well, well . . . what a surprise!”

  “Have you set a date for the big day yet?” Pippa asked.

  Elaine nodded, her face flushing. “We’re thinking of the summer.”

  Pippa’s eyebrows shot up. “Gosh – that soon?”

  “I know it’s a bit quick,” Elaine said, “but we both decided that there’s no point in waiting. We’re sure about our feelings and neither of us are getting any . . .” her eyes dropped to the floor, “getting any younger.”

  She looked up at Diana, who was still smiling, but she was embarrassed about making the gaffe about the age thing since Diana was older than her. There was also the issue about engagements that Pippa knew nothing about.

  “Quite right,” Diana said. “There is absolutely no point in waiting when you’ve made up your mind.”

  “It’s Peter’s age as well,” Elaine said. “Don’t forget he’s older than me. He’ll be forty next year . . .”

  “Of course,” Diana said. “You don’t want to waste time. No point in dragging things out . . .”

  Elaine caught her eye and for a moment there was a silence, and then Diana turned back to Pippa.

  “I think this calls for a celebration! Take ten shillings from the till, please, Pippa, and pop down to the baker’s and get some lovely cream cakes for us, and a small bottle of fresh cream for the coffee. I’ll put the kettle on!”

  “Oh, lovely!” Pippa said, pleased with the impromptu treat, and rushed to get her coat.

  When Diana was in the staff room boiling the water, Elaine came to the door.

  “That’s really kind of you,” she said.

  Diana turned towards her, her hands resting on the end of the small table. “Not at all. I’m genuinely delighted for you both.”

  Elaine shrugged. “Hopefully it will all work out . . .”

  “Why shouldn’t it? Peter is a lovely chap and I think you’ll make a great couple.” She smiled and raised her eyebrows. “Most engagements work out, Elaine. Don’t take mine as an example.”

  “I wasn’t thinking of that . . . honestly.”

  Diana shrugged, knowing that Elaine was lying. “Well, it’s a long time ago – over two years.”

  “Is it that long?”

  Diana nodded. When her engagement to Brian was broken off, it had such a devastating effect that Elaine had to take over running the shop for a fortnight. And, besides, they had discussed her broken engagement too many times since for her employee to really have forgotten.

  She looked at Elaine’s serious face now and felt guilty for dampening her spirits. Like herself, Elaine had almost been resigned to being single when Peter came on the scene, and she had been let down so often in the past that she was careful not to presume her new romance would develop into something more serious. But now it had.

  “So,” Diana said, “what are the plans? Any ideas about what kind of wedding dress you would like or where you’re going to have the wedding reception?”

  Elaine’s face brightened. “We have a few ideas for places in Manchester or Stockport, and there’s a wedding dress I’ve had my eye on in a shop here in Didsbury.” She laughed. “I’ve been looking at it for the last couple of months, just on the off-chance he proposed.”

  “Is it in the window of Bridal Heaven?”

  “Yes.”

  “The one with all the little pearls at the neck and cuffs?”

  “Yes, that’s it!” Elaine’s voice was high and excited.

  “It’s gorgeous, and it would be absolutely perfect for your height and colouring. Have you tried it on yet?”

  “Oh, no . . . I would have been terrified that it was tempting fate to go into the shop before I was properly engaged. I thought I would ask you to come with me when I do. You’ve got a good eye and I’d really value your opinion.”

  Diana looked at the gold, French-style clock on the wall. “Why don’t we have our coffee and cake and then leave Pippa to hold the fort while we go down toBridal Heavenand let you try it on?”

  “Really? Oh, that’s so good of you!”

  Later, as she walked towards her Mini carrying the bag with Jane Maxwell’s slacks and tights, Diana thought how different things would be in the Didsbury shop now that Elaine was going to be a married woman. Up until now, only single women had worked there, and it had been a consolation to her not to have to listen to conversations about married life or babies at work. She had enough of it in her social life as all her best friends had gradually one by one tied the knot.

  A further consolation had been the fact that Elaine too was over thirty. At thirty-three she was five years younger than Diana, but with Elaine’s quieter demeanour and her own bubbly personality and modern dress, they had seemed of an age. Whatever way she looked at it now, Diana felt over the hill. A perennial wallflower. A spinster for life.

  And all because she had wasted her best years on Brian Taylor. Seven whole years. Seven whole years during which she could have found someone else.

  And she had spent four of those years engaged. And during all that time he had managed to evade making any concrete plans for a wedding or plans for a family in the future. Diana now knew that she should have realised there was something seriously wrong but she had been so besotted by him that she was prepared to wait until he was ready.

  Now she knew that a man like Brian would never have been ready. And she would continue to pay the price for having believed in him.

  Chapter 5

  There was an uneasy silence in the big Victorian hall as Maria sat alongside fifty other girls all dressed in identical navy uniforms waiting to do their final exam paper, History. The only sounds were the footsteps of the two female teachers as they walked up and down the aisles placing the salmon-coloured examination papers – face down – in front of each student.

  She worked a pen between her fingers as she frantically tried to recall the main points of the Tudor period she had spent the past few weeks studying. Then, as the last paper was placed on a desk at the front of the hall and the teachers moved back to their tables, her gaze moved towards the tall windows and she said a quiet prayer.

  “You may turn your papers over now,” Miss Hartigan said. “And may I remind you to read every question very carefully?”

  At that point, Maria’s eyes slid across the row to meet Stella’s for a few moments. During the English Literature exam the previous week, Stella had been delighted to spot a question about Othello that she could answer easily. It wa
s based on one of Iago’s soliloquies and she launched straight into her answer. It was only when a group of the girls were discussing the papers after the exam that she realised she had written about the wrong soliloquy.

  Stella rolled her eyes now and pulled a face. Maria gave her a sympathetic smile, then they both turned back to their exam sheets.

  On first inspection, Maria found only three questions – out of the five she had to pick – that she felt reasonably confident about. A sense of panic came over her which she had to fight back. As she read the other questions again, her throat ran dry and her hands started to shake. Her eyes flitted from one half-read question to another, the words making no sense to her. All she knew was that if she could only answer three of the questions she would fail the exam. She closed her eyes for a few seconds to try to still her breathing and then, when she felt a little calmer, she read over the questions again.

  This time, she was relieved to find that certain sections of the questions were beginning to sound more familiar to her – and then her memory cranked into action, flooding her with related facts and dates. She took several deep breaths and then, remembering all the exam preparation that Miss Hartigan had given the class, she went back to the question she felt was the easiest to answer and started writing.

  The silence continued for the next two hours. Maria kept her head down for most of the time going from one question to another. Every fifteen minutes or so she checked the time on her watch, and every half an hour Miss Hartigan or Mrs MacGregor told them how much time had elapsed and how much time they still had to go.

  During the last half hour, Maria became aware of some of the other students leaving the hall. As she did with every exam, she wondered if they had been so well prepared that they could write all the correct answers quicker than her and without the nerves she felt, or whether they were giving up having answered all they could.

  Then, when she was in the last fifteen minutes of the exam and only starting her final question, she felt the panicky feeling starting to return. Her heart quickened as her hand flew across the page while she tried not to let her writing descend into a complete scribble.

  Then a bell rang and suddenly Miss Hartigan was telling everyone to finish the sentence they were on and put their pens down. Maria wrote her last line and sat back in her chair – her head feeling light after all the intense concentration.

  Minutes later the girls were all outside in the yard, huddled in groups, heatedly discussing the exam paper amid yelps of delight as correct answers were confirmed and excruciating moans when mistakes were realised.

  “How did you feel you got on?” Stella asked, with a serious face. “Every time I looked over at you, you were busy writing.”

  Maria shrugged. “I haven’t a clue. I just wrote anything that came into my head. What about you?”

  “I don’t know either . . . but I keep remembering things I should have written.” She bit her lip. “I don’t think it was as bad as the English one, but it was hard enough.”

  “Thank God we have the afternoon off,” Maria said. “I’m going to catch the bus home and have a rest doing absolutely nothing. I couldn’t pick another book up if you paid me.”

  “What about tonight?” Stella asked. “Have you heard anything from Paul?”

  “Not a thing, but I’m not bothered because I didn’t really expect to hear from him.” She made a small, dismissive sound with her lips as though it meant nothing to her.

  Stella looked annoyed. “Tony told me that he definitely liked you, and I know he wouldn’t say it if it wasn’t true.” She spoke as though she knew Tony really well.

  Maria checked her watch. “I’m going to run for the two o’clock bus.”

  “Phone me the minute you hear anything.”

  Sitting alone at the back of the bus, Maria took out her History exam papers again and as she went over them she realised that she might not have done quite as badly as she’d thought. In fact, the three questions she had been fairly sure of at the start of the exam she now felt were definitely okay, and the other two she now thought she had answered fairly well. She had been rushed with the last question but, even so, after listening to what the other girls had said about it, she felt she had done enough to scrape a pass.

  She was fairly sure now that she had passed all the exams.

  She knew this should have made her hugely relieved – happy even – after all the studying and worrying. But it wasn’t enough. There was still something there niggling away at the back of her mind. Paul Spencer.

  As the double-decker bus wound its way out of the city centre and into Longsight and then further along to Levenshulme her mind kept working its way back to him and the awkwardness she felt about this set-up date. She stared out of the window, trying to find things about the people or places she saw to distract her thoughts. There was definitely a degree of pressure because Stella and Tony were involved. If Paul didn’t ring, she would feel she was letting them down because Stella needed her company at the pictures to keep her mother happy. On the other hand, there was a part of her that felt manipulated by her friend and she didn’t like it.

  When her stop came she got off the bus and crossed over to walk down Heaton Moor Road. As she came up towards the railway-station building, Jennifer Cox, the eighteen-year-old girl from next door, came out. When she saw Maria she gave her a big cheery wave and Maria hurried to catch up with her. As they walked along Jennifer informed her she had a half-day off work from her office and had spent a few hours shopping in Manchester. She showed her the two new LPs she’d bought, one by The Beatles and the other by The Kinks.

  They chatted about music and then Maria told her about her exams. Having company until she reached her own street distracted her and she didn’t have time to think of Paul Spencer until she was walking up the front steps of the house.

  She was only in the door five minutes when the phone rang. Her heart raced as she went to pick it up.

  Her father’s voice came on the line. “How did the exam go?”

  “It was difficult,” she told him, “but I think I did enough to pass.”

  “Good girl! I’m sure you did. Are you coming to the restaurant tonight?”

  “No. I’m supposed to be going to the cinema with Stella, but she might not be able to make it. If she doesn’t I think I’ll just have a quiet night in. I’m tired after all the studying.” Then, knowing what was coming next, she said, “I went to one of the cafés beside the school with the girls for lunch, so I’m just going to make something like beans on toast.”

  “That’s not very much,” Leo said. “If it’s not too busy here around five or six, I could drive home with some lasagne or some chicken for you –”

  “No, honestly, I’ll be fine with a snack. I’ve had enough to eat already.”

  “Okay, okay – just make sure you keep the doors locked and draw the blinds and curtains when it gets dark.” He paused for a moment. “Do the windows look as if they’ve just been cleaned?”

  Maria held the phone away and rolled her eyes.

  “Can you just look over at the window and tell me if the window-cleaner has been?”

  She turned her head to check and then clamped the phone back to her ear. “I don’t think so,” she said. “There are a few smudges on the glass.”

  “Well, you know Mrs Lowry worries about these things, and she phoned to say he is due sometime today if he hasn’t been already. If he comes to the door you can tell him that Mrs Lowry has his money and will pay him when he gets to her street.”

  She was upstairs changing out of her uniform and into slacks and a brightly patterned sweater when the phone rang again. She rushed into her father’s bedroom and picked it up.

  “Have you heard anything from Paul or Tony yet?” Stella asked.

  The fact that she had mentioned Tony made Maria realise that Stella wasn’t convinced that Paul would phone either.

  “No, I haven’t,” Maria said, sinking down on her father’s bed. �
��And I don’t really care. I’m not in the mood for going out after the exam.”

  “Maria!” Stella hissed. “Thanks a lot! You know I can’t go if you don’t go.”

  “Why don’t you find someone else to go with?”

  “Oh, yeah . . . who? Who else can I ask at this late date?”

  A noise from downstairs suddenly caught Maria’s attention. “I’ve got to go.”

  “Maria,” Stella’s tone suddenly became softer, “if you hear from him, ring me straight away.”

  “I’ve got to go, there’s someone at the front door.” Then, while Stella was still talking, she placed the phone back in its cradle.

  She went downstairs quickly, expecting to see the window-cleaner or a neighbour, and was surprised when she opened the door to see two men in dark suits standing on the doorstep – one tall and bald and the other smaller and stockier with dark hair. It crossed her mind even before they spoke that there was something rough-looking about them, even though they were decently dressed.

  “Excuse me, Miss,” the shorter one with the thick dark hair said, “we’re just checking the official registered owners of the houses in the area.”

  She noticed his eyes sliding past her, his gaze directed into the hallway, and she instinctively closed the door a few more inches.

  “Would this be the property of Mr Leonardo Conti?”

  She glanced from one to the other. “What is it that you’re actually doing?”

  “It’s a survey of sorts . . .”

  “For an estate agent,” the taller, bald man added. He smiled. “We’re checking how many reception rooms, bedrooms and bathrooms are in each house. You don’t need to worry, we don’t want to come inside and we’ve been to all the other houses in the street.”

  She paused, calculating. “Three reception rooms, four bedrooms and two bathrooms,” she said, and went to shut the door.

  The short man moved quickly to stick his foot in the gap to stop her closing it. “And just to confirm before we go, Miss – it is indeed the property of Leonardo Conti? The same gentleman who owns the restaurant in Manchester?”