Music from Home

by Geraldine O'Neill

  “What else could be done?”

  Franco leaned his elbows on the table now. “Maria can of course come to live with us but we have only a small three bed-roomed terrace house with two children in each room. Maria is used to all this!” He waved his hand expansively around the room. “She is used to so many things we would not be able to give her.”

  “Could she not stay on here? Maybe we could find someone suitable to come to live with her?” Diana wanted to rush in and suggest she herself might be able to do it, but she held back. If it was the right thing then she would be included and asked if she could help out.

  “Who?” Franco asked. Tears then came into his eyes. “Who can give up their own home and move in with Maria?”

  There was a silence during which she waited to be asked if she could be that person. She waited for a sign that her relationship with Leo meant something, and that the genuine feelings she had for Maria had been recognised.

  “And if Bernice and I decided to move in here to look after her, would she want six more people in here? Younger children running up and down the stairs? I don’t think so.”

  Diana knew now that Clarissa had been right. She had presumed too much on the relationship with Leo and his daughter. It was acceptable for her to be in this house helping during this sad, difficult time but, after that, it would seem that no one would expect her to have a place in Maria’s life.

  He joined his hands. “I don’t want to sound as though I am saying anything bad about Maria – she is a beautiful girl both inside her heart and outside. But, she has always got on better with adults. Her mother was a quiet person – they read books a lot and listened to music and that kind of thing, and it’s the way that she was brought up. And then, of course, afterwards she spent many of her evenings in the restaurant – it was her second home.”

  “But she loved it,” Diana said. “She talked about it all the time.”

  “Yes, she did love coming to Leonardo’sfor a few hours, but Leo always told me she liked peace and quiet at home. I am afraid she would not get it with my family.” He took a deep breath then he lifted up the pile of papers. “There is another problem about her staying in the house. There are complications here, legal and financial, which might make that difficult . . .”

  “Do you mean there might be a problem about the house?”

  “Yes,” Franco said. “There might be big financial problems with the house and the restaurant. And then there is Leo’s racehorse.” He shrugged. “Who knows what might be left when it is all sorted? It was different when Leo was here and money was coming in. Like everyone else he would have eventually paid things off, but something tells me that the house will have to be sold. Who knows – even the restaurant might have to go. After that, the money left is Maria’s but whether or not it will be enough for her to buy a home I can’t say – and who would give a schoolgirl a mortgage?”

  “I didn’t realise things were so bad.”

  “They may not be bad,” Franco said. “I just don’t know until we speak to the lawyers and the bank. But it may take a long time and bills would have to be met on the house. If she were in Ireland with her family then she wouldn’t have to worry about anything immediately. By the time it’s all sorted and she’s old enough to find work and live on her own that will be fine. It won’t be long until she’s eighteen.”

  “But Ireland!” Diana shook her head. “It’s a lovely, friendly place – but she doesn’t know anyone there. If she has to go away, wouldn’t she be better going to Leo’s family in Italy?”

  “No, no. His parents are very old and feeble and, as soon as they are gone, his sister who looks after them is to join her brothers out in America. After that, there are only cousins there who she only saw once a year. Besides, they don’t speak English and Maria only knows a little Italian. That would be much worse for her.”

  “It’s very difficult.” There was so much she wanted to say – to suggest – but she felt it wasn’t her place to say anything.

  “It is difficult, but Ireland is not that far away, less than an hour on the plane.” He looked up at her. “I haven’t told her yet, but Maria’s grandfather and uncle are arriving tomorrow from Ireland to be here for the funeral. Father O’Donnell was in touch with the Parish Priest where they live and her uncle phoned him back at the presbytery before the Rosary this evening. He said he sounded very nice and was grateful someone had got in touch.”

  “It’s just that they are strangers to her . . .”

  “But they are her blood,” Franco said, his voice matter-of-fact. “And that is very important. You read what Leo thought – it is a chance for them to get to know each other – for Maria to have some real family.”

  Chapter 30

  Mrs Lowry put the lid back on the newly washed teapot. “I think a few hours down at your friend’s house would do you the world of good, Maria. It’s a lovely sunny afternoon and you need to get a bit of fresh air. I’m going to go home myself in an hour when either Diana or Bernice comes back. As long as there’s one of us in the kitchen, the other women who arrive will give a hand with the teas and things.”

  Maria looked at her. “But what if I meet people? What if they ask me . . . I wouldn’t be able to talk to them.”

  The elderly Irish lady put the teapot down on the worktop and came over to stand beside Maria and slip her arm through hers. “You won’t meet anyone, love. Mrs Maxwell is coming to collect you at the gate.” She squeezed her arm gently with her own. “I honestly think it would do you good. You need a little break out of the house, and your friend needs a bit of company with her not being too well. A bit of a chat will help you both.”

  Maria glanced back into the sitting room where Vincent and Johnny from the restaurant were sitting opposite the coffin, talking quietly to some customers from the restaurant that she didn’t know. They had all had tea and sandwiches and were now sipping on whiskies and water or Italian liqueurs. Johnny had clearly been affected by her father’s death and seemed totally different to the boy she knew from the restaurant. His eyes were red-rimmed and not once had he tried to lift them to meet hers, instead just shaking her hand and muttering his condolences in a low, respectful voice.

  It occurred to her that both the men and the women from the restaurant, who had not been working since Leo died, must be wondering what would happen when her father was completely gone from them. At some point she knew she would have to start wondering about the future herself. But for now she would just continue to take things hour by hour, minute by minute.

  “All right,” Maria said now. “I might go down to Stella’s for a while.”

  Ten minutes after Maria rang her friend, Mrs Maxwell pulled up at the door.

  As they drove along Stella’s mother told her that Stella’s younger brothers, Thomas and George, were at a special horse-riding summer school that week.

  “Is it at our riding school?” Maria asked.

  “No, it’s a different one out in Prestbury. I thought it would be a bit of a change from the Spencers’ stables, as we’ve been going there for years with Stella. It’s probably about time she gave that up anyway with her A-levels coming up in the next few years.”

  Maria said nothing as she could tell by the tone in Jane Maxwell’s voice that Spencers’ stables was not her favourite place at the moment. Jane then went on to ask her how she was bearing up, and told Maria she had been praying for her to keep strong during this sad and difficult time. She said she had every confidence in her as she was a mature, sensible girl. When Maria said she was doing okay, she then repeated the apology for Stella’s fainting and said that she was a bit better now, although she still wasn’t eating all that she should. She talked about how concerned they were about Stella generally, and then gradually came around to the subject of Tony, which Maria guessed had been uppermost in her mind.

  “I’ve no wish to be a snob or any of the things that Stella calls me but, tell me honestly, Maria, do you really think that boy and she m
ake a suitable match?”

  There was a small silence during which Maria desperately tried to think of a reply that would not betray her friend or make her mother feel snubbed. “I haven’t really thought about it,” she hedged.

  “No, no, I suppose you wouldn’t. But before all this – before this week – do you know how often Stella saw him? Do you know how close they actually were?”

  “I don’t know,” Maria said. “Stella doesn’t tell me everything and I don’t ask her.”

  Jane slowed up as she came to the turn-off for their road. “I suppose what I’m trying to ascertain is – do you think Stella regards this Tony as her boyfriend?”

  Maria shrugged. “I don’t know how she regards him.” She knew it was a lie which would normally have bothered her, but somehow at this moment it seemed of little consequence. Prior to her life being so horrendously changed, she would have felt like a rabbit trapped in Mrs Maxwell’s headlamps, but today she did not feel compelled to say or do anything she did not want to.

  They pulled up outside the Maxwells’ house.

  “Well, I just hope that it stops, one way or another, because he’s not suitable for her at all.” Jane made a grimace. “He’s nothing but a Cockney wide-boy. It would be different if he was like Paul Spencer. He’s a lovely boy. Now, why couldn’t Stella go meet someone like him or that nice boy at ballet – James Granger?”

  For the first time since her father died, Maria actually had the urge to laugh. It was such an automatically funny subject between her and Stella. How, she wondered, could Stella’s mum not know how ridiculous Stella thought poor James was? Had she never really listened to Stella going on about him during practically every car journey back from ballet? She could see now that James’s father being a hospital consultant meant more than whether Stella actually liked him or not.

  As she walked down the Victorian-style hallway with the imposing mahogany staircase and the ornately tiled floor, Maria thought how absolutely perfect Maxwells’ house always seemed to be. The lady who came in to help here, Gloria, was not relaxed and friendly like Mrs Lowry, who was always stopping for cups of tea and a chat. Gloria did everything with military-like procedure which delighted Jane Maxwell, but made Stella feel as harassed by the housekeeper to keep things tidy as she was by her mother.

  When Maria went into the sitting room she found Stella sitting pale-faced in the high-backed chintz-covered armchair, by the fire. She was still wearing her pyjamas and a thick fluffy blue dressing-gown, and her fancy blue velvet slippers. When she saw Maria, she rushed over to hug her and then laid her head on her friend’s shoulder and began to cry.

  “Don’t . . .” Maria said, moving back. “I can’t cry any more. I keep getting terrible headaches after it.”

  “Oh, I’m really sorry!” Stella said. She went to sit back in the armchair with her feet tucked under her and her arms around her body as though she was hugging herself for comfort. She looked over to Maria, now seated in the armchair opposite. “Are you okay?”

  Maria nodded. “As long as I don’t think about it all too much.” She noticed the dark circles around Stella’s eyes. “How are you? Do you feel better?”

  Stella shrugged. There was a noise in the hallway and they both turned towards the door.

  Jane Maxwell stuck her head in. “Stella, I’m just popping out to the shop for some milk. If your dad rings from the office you can tell him I’ll be back in ten minutes.” She looked at Maria and realised she was still wearing her coat. “Sorry, dear,” she said coming across the floor, smiling. “You must be wondering what sort of hostess I am? I didn’t even offer to take your coat.” She waited until Maria took it off and handed it to her, and then, as she was walking towards the door to hang it up in the hallway, she stopped dead. “Stella – how many times have I told you about putting your feet up on the chairs?”

  Stella tutted and sighed under her breath and then shifted her feet onto the floor.

  When the front door closed Stella said, “Thank God she’s gone,” and drew her feet up and tucked them back under her again. She looked over at her friend. “Maria, I need to talk to you . . . but is it okay to talk to you now while you’re still so upset?”

  “Well, you and me talking isn’t exactly going to change anything, is it? And I suppose we can’t sit here in silence.”

  “I wouldn’t normally be so selfish wanting to talk about myself at a time like this . . . but it’s really important . . . something I can’t tell anyone else.”

  “What is it?”

  Stella got to her feet now and came to stand in front of Maria. “Promise me . . .” Then her voice faltered and she dissolved into floods of tears.

  Maria stood up now, realising this was serious and nothing to do with upset about the funeral. She put her hand on her friend’s shoulder. “Stella, what’s wrong?”

  “Promise me you won’t hate me! Promise me you won’t hate me when I tell you what it is!”

  “Of course I won’t hate you. Don’t be stupid!”

  “Maria, I think . . .” she could hardly get the words out. “I’m almost sure that I’m pregnant.”

  “You’re pregnant?” Maria repeated, her mind going back, trying to think when Stella would have had the opportunity to become pregnant. She couldn’t remember any occasions when she and Tony had been away overnight or anything like that. “Are you sure?”

  “I haven’t had a period for nearly two months!” The tears were streaming down her face now. “I could be ten or eleven weeks by now.”

  “Oh my God . . .” Maria bit her lip. “I don’t know what to say. Have you told anybody else?”

  Stella shook her head. “Nobody . . . not a soul but you.”

  In the small silence that followed Maria couldn’t stop herself imagining her friend in the physical intimacy that would have led to this happening, and found herself shocked, but she knew that Stella did not need to hear that, especially from her. There would be plenty of other people only too willing to voice that same shock along with disapproval and condemnation. And for all that Maria did not approve of what she had done, Stella was her best friend. They might have their ups and downs – and Stella might drive her mad at times – but she was truly fond of her. She loved the laughs they had together, and the way that Stella always seemed to bounce back whether it was from an argument at home or from when she was in trouble at school.

  Maria suddenly thought. “What about Tony?”

  Stella closed her eyes and shook her head. “He hasn’t spoken to me since the other night in your house.” She shrugged. “He hasn’t a phone in the house where he lives, and any time I phone the stables they say he’s out in the fields or that he can’t leave the horses. I’ve left loads of messages for him to phone at certain times when I know Mum’s out but he hasn’t got back.”

  “Maybe he’s really busy,” Maria ventured. “Or maybe he’s afraid to phone the house.”

  “Usually he gets one of the girls to call, and when I come on the phone they hand it over to him.”

  Maria caught her breath at all the deception that Stella used so easily to get around things. Stella had always done everything to get her own way, but it had usually been about harmless, trivial stuff. “And are you going to tell him about this?”

  “I don’t know . . . I keep thinking I should wait until it’s definite.”

  “Your mum said that you’re going to the doctor tomorrow.”

  Stella nodded. “The problem is she’s taking me there. I know if I go on my own that I can tell the doctor in confidence, but I can’t say anything if she’s there.” She looked at the clock. “I wonder if I could phone the doctor and ask him to call me in on my own for a while.” She bit the side of her thumb. “Do you think he would do that?”

  “I don’t know . . . it depends what he’s like. Do you know him well?”

  Stella moved her thumb from her mouth. “He’s the youngest one in the practice and more modern than the others.”

  “H
e might be okay.”

  “I’m going to ring now,” she said, jumping to her feet. “I need to find out, and I can’t talk to him when my mother is there.” She went quickly out into the hall.

  Maria’s eyes followed her as she went, and she once again noticed how very thin and fragile her friend was.

  Stella came back a few minutes later, looking relieved. “Thank God, he was really nice! I just told him my mother was bringing me down to the surgery because I had fainted, but that I needed to talk to him in private without her hearing. He said he’ll bring her in at the beginning to ask her a few questions, then he’ll ask her to leave as he wants to do an examination or something like that.”

  “That’s great.” She waited until Stella sat down. “Do you feel sick or has your stomach got bigger, or do you have any other symptom that might make you think you are expecting a baby?”

  “It’s the fact I’ve not had my last two periods that’s worrying me, and that I’ve fainted a couple of times.” Stella thought for a few moments. “I don’t really know . . .” She opened her dressing-gown and pulled her pyjama top up a few inches and looked down at her stomach. “I suppose it’s a bit early to tell. Oh, God, I hope I’m not!”

  “I don’t know anything about having babies,” Maria said, “but I think you look thinner rather than heavier.”

  Stella gathered her dressing-gown around her and tied the belt. “You can’t do ballet and be fat, Maria, you know that.” She gave an odd little laugh. “And you definitely can’t be pregnant and do ballet.”

  “What are you going to do if you are?”

  Stella closed her eyes and then covered her mouth with her hand. “I don’t know what I’m going to do. I’ve been praying since the other night. My mother will kill me and so will my father. They’d kill me if I was expecting a baby with Prince Charles, so God knows what they’ll do when they find out that it was Tony.”

  “When could this have happened? I thought you didn’t have many opportunities of being on your own? Was it the time of the all-night party? I thought you left early?”