Music from Home

by Geraldine O'Neill

  “Well, she better not turn up at the restaurant afterwards, that’s all I’m saying.”

  “Okay,” he said. “Okay. I would not want her there either. I’ll make sure that Vincent and the others know that the meal afterwards in Leonardo’s is by invitation only.”

  “Good,” Bernice said. “I should think so. And let’s hope we don’t need to discuss the trollop ever again, Franco. I’ll ignore her if I see her in the church, but if I find out she ever comes near you again, then I won’t be responsible for my actions.”

  Maria waited until she heard them go downstairs and then she got out of bed again and went to the bathroom. As she washed and brushed her teeth she mulled over the argument she had overheard, and she realised that the decision she had been putting off making had now been made for her. She had thought that the best option – until she was eighteen – was to ask Franco and his family to come and live in their bigger house. Alternatively, she could close the house up and, in the interim, go live in her godfather’s house. She had worried that it would be a squeeze and guessed that she would have to share a room with the two girls, but some friends she knew at school shared bedrooms with their sisters, and she would just have to learn to do that.

  But now, having heard how things could be, living with a couple in close proximity, she thought her other option was a better one. Although she had hated hearing them argue, it hadn’t changed her feelings for Franco and his wife. It had, however, reminded her how upset Stella got with all the rows in Maxwells’ house and it had made Maria now presume that uncomfortable disagreements were perhaps part of many families’ lives. She supposed now she had been lucky in a way, being an only child who had been so well looked after by two loving parents, and then latterly by a single father who would have moved heaven and earth for her if he could. And while she knew that the experience of losing her father now would now mark and scar her for the rest of her life, she did have consolations. She knew without a shred of a doubt, that – in spite of his weakness with gambling and occasional drinking bouts – her father loved her and always had her best interests at heart.

  At some point today, Maria decided, she would speak to Diana and ask her if she would move into the house in St Aiden’s Avenue. They got on great, and she was now sure that if her father hadn’t died they would have married and Diana would have been her stepmother. That was as close as having a real family, and they would both have shared memories of her beloved father.

  For the first time since her father died, she felt something close to being in control of her future. She would ask Diana to come and stay here until she reached eighteen and was old enough to live on her own.

  Chapter 33

  Maria sat with a slice of toast and a cup of coffee in the kitchen under the watchful eye of Mrs Lowry. She still had no great appetite, but the housekeeper and the other women were making sure that she did not slip into lengthy periods of not eating.

  Mrs Lowry asked her if there was anything she needed washing or ironing for the funeral, and had she given any thought to what she might want the priest to say about her father from the altar. Maria told her she had not thought about either, but promised she would soon and would come back to her about it.

  Later, as she was sorting through her clothes she found a plain black jersey dress she thought she could wear along with her mother’s two-strand crystal necklace. Then she thought of something that she would like at the funeral and in Leonardo’s afterwards. She went downstairs and found Franco standing by the coffin, with folded arms, just staring down at her father.

  She wondered if he was thinking of this time tomorrow when the coffin would be closed and her father would be buried deep in the ground in Stockport Cemetery beside her mother. She found the burial thing so terrifying that she tried to think of everything she could to distract herself from those thoughts.

  She took a deep breath. “Franco,” she said, “I wonder if you could help me with something?”

  “Of course.” He did not turn around, and instead took his hanky from his pocket and quickly wiped his eyes. “Tell me and I’ll do whatever I can.”

  He turned towards her now – smiling, she knew, to make her feel better.

  “I’d like for my father’s last night in our house,” Maria said, “to play some of the music that he loved. Could you bring the small tape recorder down from my father’s bedroom . . .” She halted. They both knew she still had to cross the threshold to Leo’s room. “Could you bring the tape recorder and the box with all the tapes? There are special ones in it that he and my mother listened to, and there is a tape that he loved of my mother playing classical music on the violin.” She looked down at her hands. “And I love it too.”

  Franco nodded. “I know the ones you mean. I will go up to his room later and sort them out.”

  “Thank you. I think it would be nice to have the music playing, very low, in the house here tonight and maybe in the morning before he leaves the house.” She looked at him again. “And maybe tomorrow, when we are having the meal in the restaurant, we could play the tapes he kept there.”

  There was a silence. “Are you sure, Maria?” Franco’s voice was choked. “Are you sure it won’t be too much for you to be in the restaurant and hearing the music playing without him?”

  “It will be much harder if we are in the restaurant and we don’t hear it,” she said. “If it is all quiet then it will be as if he has completely gone and I don’t want to feel that. My father played that music after my mother died because he said it made him feel that she was still around us.”

  “I think then that it sounds like an excellent idea.”

  Then, as she turned away, Franco said, “Actually, Maria, there is something I want to ask you about . . . and something I have to give you.” He went towards the kitchen door. “Diana, could you give me a few moments of your time in the dining room please? I just need to go upstairs for something.”

  While they were waiting for him, Diana discussed the readings at the church for the funeral with Maria and said that, if it was okay with her, Franco would do one reading and one of his friends from the Italian society would do another. She also said that there was an Italian woman who was a beautiful singer who would do hymns accompanied by a pianist.

  Maria said whatever they thought was best would be fine by her.

  Franco came in carrying a long white envelope and, when he sat down, Maria noticed he had a little nerve jumping in his cheek. Then, when he placed the envelope on the table, she noticed it had her name on it in her father’s handwriting and her face creased with distress. Then she clenched her fists and closed her eyes.

  There was an uneasy silence then Franco said, “Maria, we have something serious to discuss about your future this morning. Your father left letters for me and for you.” He slid the envelope across the table. “I think it’s the time for you to read this.”

  She steeled herself for a few more moments and then she lifted the envelope and gently peeled it open. She slid a letter out and sat quietly reading it.

  When she had finished it, she said, “I don’t believe this.” Then she handed it to Diana.

  Diana looked at her. “Are you sure?” When Maria nodded she picked it up, and, after noticing with some surprise that it was much shorter than Franco’s letter, she started to read.

  My Dearest, Darling Maria,

  How very, very sorry I am that I have left you all alone. It was the last thing I wanted to think might happen but, in case it does, I am writing to tell you above all that I love you with all my heart.

  You, my precious, darling daughter, have been the sun, the moon and the stars in my life since your mother left us. I am not going to make this letter long or sad. I just wanted to write and say to you that my plans for your future are not what you would have imagined.

  It was something I could not have talked to you about before, as I did not want to think about being away from you. Also, I hoped that I would be around until you were at le
ast eighteen, and you would be with me until you were an adult, but I am so sorry that has not happened.

  Franco will explain to you where you should go and why I am asking this of you. I know you will be shocked and not be happy with my wishes to begin with, but please do this for me and for your mother.

  You were fifteen when I wrote this letter and the oldest you will be when you receive it is sixteen because I update these every year. That means you have only around two years to spend with your new family. Believe me, the time will go very quickly and you will know more about yourself after it.

  When you are older and have your own family, you will look back and be glad you know who you are and where you came from.

  With regards your career, all I have to say is that I wish you to find something you love that will make you happy –and maybe earn you some money!

  Do not grieve for me too long. Life is to be lived and enjoyed. Think of me when you hear the music we loved and remember all the happy times we had as a family, and please, my darling, remember your mother kindly whatever may come up in the future.

  And always remember the happy times you and I had on our own and those lovely evenings in Leonardo’s.

  With all the love it is possible for a father to give to his daughter,

  Dadxx

  “What does it mean?” Maria said. “Does he want me to go to Italy until I am eighteen?”

  “No . . .” Franco’s voice was uncertain, “he wants you to go to Ireland with your grandfather and your uncle.”

  Maria looked at him in shock. “What are you saying? Ireland?”

  “Yes.”

  “That’s not possible.”

  She waited for them to respond but they said nothing.

  “In any case, can I not stay on here in the house I grew up in?” She sat still, although inside her heart was pounding and her stomach was clenched. She looked at Franco and then at Diana.

  Diana reached for her hand, but she was too agitated and pulled it away.

  “It is complicated,” Franco said. “There are legal matters . . . financial problems . . .” He was fumbling for words now, not wanting to say the things that made him feel he was like Judas betraying his dearest friend. “We don’t know for sure, but it’s possible that the house and the restaurant might have to be sold.”

  “Because my father was in debt?” Her voice was small now and her gaze fixed on the table.

  “It was business debt,” Franco said. “But it was linked to the house. The house has to go to pay your father’s suppliers and various loans. Things like the horse . . .”

  Maria’s heart was pounding so hard she could hear it in her ears. “I knew it . . . that damned horse is the cause of all the trouble. I bet it started him back gambling again.”

  Diana couldn’t stop herself. “No, Maria, it didn’t. I know he wasn’t gambling – he talked to me about it and it was only Bella Maria’s racing he was involved in. He stopped all the other betting and the card games.”

  “Well, that’s at least something. So now all I have to worry about is going to a strange family in Ireland who hated my father and mother. Fantastic!” Maria’s tone was uncharacteristically sarcastic. She held her hands up. “Is there really no one else here who wants me?”

  “Of course we want you,” Franco said. “But this is all about what your father wanted for you. He wrote it to me in another, much longer letter. He explained it all and . . .” he fumbled for the right words, “and things are not the way he understood it between your mother and her family.”

  Maria suddenly became still and calm and a cold, detached look came on her face. “Can I see it, please?”

  Diana caught her breath. Her eyes darted over to Franco. “This might not be the right time . . .”

  He looked back at her, then he said, “I am so sorry, Maria – but there is no right time. I have hardly slept since I got the letter as I have worried so much giving it to you. But I thought if we leave it until after the funeral it would be very difficult for you and your relatives. It’s best if we can sort things out now.”

  Franco went upstairs and came back down with the letter.

  Maria read it all and then she looked at them both. “I don’t understand any of this. Does my father mean that they never rejected her, that it was my mother’s decision to cut off from her family? And it was all because of something she did before she met my father?”

  “Yes,” Franco said. “I think that’s what it says.”

  “So it had nothing to do with him being an Italian?”

  “It doesn’t seem so.”

  Maria hugged her arms across her chest. “I don’t understand,” she repeated. “Why would she do that? Why would she not tell him the truth? It can’t have been anything that bad that he wouldn’t have forgiven her.”

  Franco looked at her worried face. “People see things differently. What troubles one person might not trouble another.”

  Diana got out of her chair now and went to put her arms around her. “You have the chance to find some answers,” she said, “if you go up to the hotel to meet your grandfather and Jude.”

  Maria went quiet for a few moments. “I don’t care what they say – I won’t go to Ireland! If I can’t stay in our own house then I’ll go and get a job and find somewhere else to live.” Her voice became almost hysterical and she tried to struggle out of Diana’s embrace. “I’ll ask Stella’s parents if I can stay there for a while . . . or I can ask Mrs Lowry if you two don’t want me.”

  “Of course we want you, and we’ll do whatever we can to help.” Diana’s arms tightened around her and she held her until she became still again. “But I think you should go and at least talk to Patrick and Jude. You should try to get to know them while they are here.”

  Franco picked the letter up now and put it back in its envelope. “They seem like very nice people, I am surprised how nice,” he said, “and it’s what your father would want.”

  “My father,” Maria sobbed, “is dead – dead! And dead people can’t make decisions for the people they left behind.”

  Then she pulled out of Diana’s arms and rushed upstairs to her bedroom.

  Chapter 34

  It was one o’clock when Diana came tapping on the bedroom door. “It’s the phone for you, Maria,” she said. “It’s Stella.”

  Maria lifted her face from the damp pillow, and then she closed her eyes again when she felt the tight band that always wound around her head after she had been crying. She didn’t know if she was fit to talk, and was just about to shout back to Diana to leave her alone, when she thought that Stella might have stolen a few minutes on her own to make the call. Things could not be worse for herself, but she knew that her friend was in deep trouble. She dragged herself off the bed and went downstairs to the hall to take it.

  After checking that the hall door was closed and that no one could hear her, she lifted the receiver which Diana had left on the table. “Hi,” she said.

  “Maria?” Stella’s voice sounded quiet and a bit muffled.

  “How are you?” Maria asked in an urgent whisper. “What’s happened?” She put her hand up to her forehead to ease the throbbing.

  “The doctor doesn’t think I’m pregnant.”

  Maria thought Stella didn’t sound as ecstatic as she would have expected. “Well, that’s great news. And was the doctor okay about seeing you on your own?”

  “Yes . . . but he examined me. It was terrible . . . it was an internal. It was painful and I was mortally embarrassed.”

  “Doctors are used to doing things like that all the time,” Maria said. “Don’t let it worry you.”

  “But the thing is, he thinks I’m sick. He thinks that there’s something wrong with me that’s stopped my periods.”

  “Really? I thought that only happened when . . .” She didn’t want to say ‘pregnant’ out loud in case anyone heard her. “Well, hopefully they’ll sort it soon.”

  “He kept going on about my weight, and the
n when he brought my mother in, he made me get weighed in front of her. I had to take off my cardigan and dress and shoes and get weighed in my petticoat.”

  Maria sucked her breath in. She knew that Stella’s weight was a problem. “What did you weigh?”

  “I’ve no idea. I was so embarrassed at being half-naked I didn’t look.”

  Maria heard the defensive note in her voice and knew she was lying.

  “I’ve got to go to a special clinic in London.” Stella’s voice was dull now. “My mother has phoned and they told her they have a place for me on Friday. I don’t want to go, but the doctor said I’ve got to go and get checked out immediately.”

  “Stella, as long as it’s not something serious, then it’s better news than the other option.”

  “I know,” she said, “but the doctor also told me I’ve to stay in bed until then, and rest as I’m very weak and he thinks I’m anaemic too. I’m really sorry, Maria, but I’m not allowed out, so I won’t make it to the funeral.” She started to cry. “I would never have missed your dad’s funeral . . .”

  “Don’t worry,” Maria said. “It’s more important that you get well.” Then she suddenly thought. “Have you heard from Tony?”

  “No,” Stella said, her voice all quivery. “I’ve still heard nothing from him since that day in your house. Have you heard from Paul?”

  “He rang last night. He did very well, three A-levels.” The girls’ O-level results would be out later in the month, but they meant nothing to her now.

  “So, he’ll be going to college up in Northumberland.”

  “Yes, I suppose he will be.”

  She could hear Stella taking a deep breath. “I’m sorry to say it, Maria, but romances never last when people go away to college – so it looks like we’re both being dumped.”

  “Does it?” Maria stopped to think, and then she said in a flat, distant voice, “I wouldn’t be at all surprised if you’re right. The way things are going in my life at the moment, it would be more surprising if Paul didn’t dump me when he goes away.”