by Connie Monk
‘Really good. That’s why I’m calling you so early. I thought with Peter being away you might have come over and I wouldn’t want you to get here and find me out.’
‘Actually, Mum, Peter is here,’ she said, still keeping a tight rein on any hint of expression. ‘Where are you gadding off to, then?’
‘I don’t know about gadding off,’ she replied, clearly on her guard. ‘Derek and I are having a day in Bath. He’s getting tickets for us to go to a Beethoven concert this evening.’
‘Mum, I don’t like to think of you driving all that way on your own at night. Can’t I book you into a hotel? I’ll look in the Yellow Pages and do it for you, shall I?’
Some of Jenny’s carefree anticipation for the day faded. How could Zina know just what yesterday had done to her? Mum, Gran, she was proud to be both those things, but most of all she was herself.
‘Sweet of you, dear, but there’s no need. I’ve got it sorted, a private hotel with parking, and they sounded nice people.’ No need to say that Derek had made the booking for her.
‘That’s good. You’ll enjoy the concert, I’m sure. But Mum …’ And here she hesitated. ‘Listen Mum, don’t take this the wrong way – oh damn, I don’t know how to say it – I only want what’s best for you, but don’t give yourself a chance to get fond of Derek, or read too much into his attention. You’ll only get hurt. The quintet is his life. He’s like any other man, I expect, at any rate any man without a wife, and once in a while perhaps likes a bit of light relief with a lady. But he’s got to his age without getting ensnared, so you may be sure he’s never wanted anything serious, so he won’t let it happen at his time of life.’
‘Zina, I—’ But Zina didn’t give her a chance.
‘I don’t want to sound horrible, and I know you must want a man to go about with sometimes – but yesterday I could see how excited you were to have that trip out, and if I could, then so could he. He must have felt flattered. Just let him see that you aren’t looking for anything more than he is himself. I mean, don’t imagine that a few invitations give you—’
‘Stop it! Stop it, can’t you,’ Jenny rasped. ‘It’s no business of yours or anyone else’s what I do. If I make a fool of myself, as you say, then it’s my own affair.’ Her voice croaked and then broke, her wildly shouted words hardly intelligible as she sobbed. ‘Just because Richard isn’t here you think all I want is to be a good woman, rushing around helping others with a sweet smile on my face. Well, sometimes I just think bugger the lot of it. There’s only one person who would understand and that’s him, Richard. You want me to be here living on memories – you think I’m old—’ when Zina tried to interrupt, she carried on – ‘because I’m a widow and never looked outside the life he and I had together, you think I can live on that for all the years that are left to me?’
‘That’s not true, Mum, you do more with your days than most women. If Dad knows and watches he must be so proud of the way you have built a worthwhile life.’ There, that must have got through. The noisy crying had given way to no more than an occasional snort. ‘It’s because we love you, Mum, me and Dad too, that we don’t want you to make a fool of yourself. Try playing hard to get, then you’ll see if Derek really enjoys taking you about or whether he’ll lose interest.’
There was a moment’s silence and then in a cool and distant voice, with no more than the interruption of a sniff in the aftermath of her stormy outburst, Jenny said, ‘You’ve never needed to tell me how much Peter resented your going back to your fiddle, I knew it without being told – he’s the sort of man who would. But I have a better idea for you, one he might even approve: why don’t you become an Agony Aunt?’ Then with a snort that wouldn’t be repressed, she added, ‘Except that you’ve never known the agony – and please God you never will.’
‘Oh Mum, let’s forget it all. I just don’t want you to make a fool of yourself. Truly I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you. I shouldn’t have said anything.’
‘No, you shouldn’t. You should have minded your own business and let me make mistakes in my own way. Anyway, I’m out today and staying in Bath tonight. I’m glad Peter is home.’ Then suddenly there was nothing but the dialling tone.
Zina replaced the receiver. She would give so much to have the last ten minutes again, to play it differently. Always she and her mother had been so close, or so she had thought. And yet through these last years while she’d honestly believed Jenny had been fulfilled with all the village good works and the local societies she had spent her time with, had it been no more that a facade to hide behind? Maybe, as she said, she wasn’t old, but she was certainly old enough and had years enough of a truly good marriage that surely she could build something without needing another man. All very fine for her to say Dad would understand how she felt, perhaps he would, but he would expect the man she wanted to be him.
If the telephone call had spoilt the day for her mother then Zina was sorry, but at least it might make her think twice before she behaved like some stupid teenager with her first boyfriend.
‘Was that one of the kids on the phone?’ Peter’s voice behind her startled her.
‘No, it was Mum. She thought I would have been on my own and might drive over, so she was warning me that she’d be out for the day. I didn’t expect you to be up yet.’
‘I’m a five o’clock man, remember. You can’t change nature’s clock just because of a late night.’ Then with a boyish grin, he added, ‘Anyway how can a poor man sleep when he’s got a bruised shoulder? I wish we’d had a camera set, it was quite a scene, wasn’t it.’
She had the grace to laugh; indeed she needed to laugh, surely that way she would clear her troubled mind.
‘Next time if I hear someone creeping about I shall take it to be you – and perhaps end up murdered or worse in my own bed and all our valuables taken.’
‘There won’t be a next time. That’s what I want us to talk about. Last night something I had been toying with in my mind was finally settled, and even though it was a late night I wanted to come straight home. If you’d told me you were going to be here I might have hurried things along and got here a bit sooner. But I saw no rush to get back to an empty house—’
‘I know the feeling,’ she cut in, not prepared to listen to his martyr act.
‘Listen Zina, things have got to change. This is nothing of a life for either of us and hasn’t been for a long time.’
She leant forward pressing the palms of her hand hard on the dining table. Now he’s going to tell me … breath properly, hold your head up, stand straighter. In those seconds she saw them in a divorce court, all their possessions being divided, the house sold, herself in a flat somewhere with just enough room for the children to spend half their holidays with her, then like rootless people going on to spend the other half with him. Thank God she could earn her own living. Yes, thank God for that other part of her life that he so despised.
‘Are you OK, Zee? You look shaky.’ Zee, the old nickname, and spoken in a tone of real concern.
‘Feel a bit shaky. Just had a row with Mum. Nothing important. Go on with what you were saying, about things being different.’
‘Here, sit down.’ He pulled a dining chair for her and then one for himself.
‘Looks as if we’re at a board meeting.’ She made a pathetic attempt to lighten the situation. ‘Go on. You’re chairman.’
‘I expect I told you the great Hermann Zeiglar was over here from Hollywood. I’ve seen quite a lot of him over the last weeks, visited him and his wife a few times at their hotel in Maidenhead – times when it’s not been worth my while driving down here to an empty house. I suspected he was interested in signing me up, but he’d not put his cards on the table. Then, last night it came to a head. His wife is a real charmer, but I suspect a pretty hard-nosed businesswoman, probably the power behind the throne. He invited me for dinner at his hotel and I could tell it was something important when he had the meal sent up to their suite so that we wouldn’
t be disturbed.’
‘He’s from Hollywood? So he’s here to make a film in England and wants to sign you up for it? You’re not lined up for anything once this shooting finishes are you, so the timing is just right surely? Not much to discuss about that, surely you’re not hesitating whether to agree, are you, if this Hermann whatever-you-called-him is so important?’ She wanted to laugh, to shout, to cheer, to dance, and yet she sat as still as a statue waiting for his answer. He always talked to her about any contract he signed, told her what he was doing. But it was obvious he saw this offer as significant. And for this she had lain awake!
‘It seems that he came to England with me in mind. Just imagine what it means! It’ll be a huge change for all of us – you, me, the youngsters. It’s not a run-of-the-mill picture, it’ll be the biggest epic film to come out of Hollywood since – I suppose since Gone With the Wind all those years ago. Imagine what it will do to my career.’ Then, with a laugh he couldn’t have repressed even if he’d wanted, he added, ‘Can’t you just see Fiona’s face when she hears she’s to live in Hollywood. Beverley Hills, that’s where we’ll be.’
Wherever her imagination had carried her, it had certainly not been to California. How long would it take to make the film? It would be an experience for the children, but after perhaps as much as a year away, how would they settle back? Would Tom have fallen behind with his music and would he still be able to get into a music school as Mr Messer hoped?
But Peter’s excitement was infectious. It was so long since they had looked at each other with such certain hope.
‘They break up in not much more than a fortnight,’ she reminded him. ‘By then you’ll have finished on the set – be officially “resting”,’ she added with a teasing laugh, thinking how far from the truth it would be. While he seemed to look ahead as if all they had to do was pack their bags and be off, her feet were dragged to the ground more quickly. There were bookings for the quintet for many months ahead and she couldn’t walk out until a suitable replacement violinist was found. Then, what about her mother? And the house? Close a house for perhaps a year, especially one as old as Newton House, and it would be a sorry sight to come back to even if the garden was still looked after.
‘You must have been imagining something like this for all the weeks you’ve been getting to know this Hermann man, but for me it’s come right out of the blue. We’ve never even considered living abroad and certainly not in America. But Peter, how long have you signed a contract for? Is it just for one film? And what happens after that?’
‘Where’s your faith in me, woman?’ Nothing was going to burst his bubble.
‘You sound very cock-a-hoop. And of course so am I, and proud as can be. But you didn’t answer – is it just one film?’
He reached forward and took both her hands in his. ‘At the moment that’s what I’ve signed,’ he told her, this time making sure he sounded suitably solemn. ‘But I talked to him about the future and there’s no doubt this isn’t just a one-off. A wonderful opportunity, Zina. Not just for my career and a better life for both of us, but think of the kids. What chances it opens for them! All that sunshine. We’ll sell up here and have a house high on a hill, a garden with a huge pool. Can’t you just see it! Say something, darling. Tell me you’re as excited as I am. Just imagine, to be sought after by the great Hermann Zeiglar! Tell me what you really feel.’
‘Just at this moment mostly what I feel is relief. Peter, I’ve been worried, frightened, everything seems to have changed and I was too frightened to look for the reason. Or was it just in my mind? You don’t come home nearly as often as you used to in our first years here. Remember, when the children were tiny – and then at the baby school. Here alone in the evenings, I’ve even imagined you’d fallen for someone beautiful, someone who—’
‘And you were right.’ With his hand under her chin he seemed to force her to meet his gaze. ‘It must have happened about fifteen years ago and I’ve been in love with her ever since.’ His voice was full of gently teasing affection, but from his slightly hesitant expression she could tell that he knew he was pushing the boundaries when he added, ‘The trouble is she has another lover, not one made from flesh and blood.’
She let the remark go unanswered as he pulled her to her feet and they stood close in each other’s arms, rocking gently as she nestled her face against his neck.
‘And what about you?’ he whispered, his face rubbing the top of her head. ‘Will you come with me to this Brave New World, or do I still have to take second place to that damned instrument?’
This time she knew what her answer had to be. She gave herself no time for second thoughts. ‘If that’s where your life will be, then so will mine. So will the children’s.’ She had such a confusion of sensations: relief, thankfulness (surely above all others, thankfulness), excitement, joy, panic and a sense of defeat. Was this what he had always wanted? Perhaps the Hollywood contract hadn’t necessarily been part of the equation, but he was to get his own way and she must leave the quintet. For more than three years she had stood her ground, never allowed to forget that in his opinion she was failing the family by chasing her own rainbow, and yet unfailingly being lifted right out of herself into that other world of music. But they had come to a junction and she had no hesitation in acknowledging that, come what may, they must travel the same road.
‘But Peter we have to be sensible. We can’t just pack a suitcase and walk away. We have commitments.’
‘I feel wildly irresponsible and joyful at the moment, in no mood for digging for commitments. Nothing seems quite real. Filming should be finished in a couple of weeks by which time the kids will be almost at the end of term. Come what may I’m not breaking my promise to Fiona, I mean to see her play, we can’t disappoint her and pull her out of school before that.’
‘There’s more to the evening than the end of term play,’ she reminded him. ‘There are other items, dancing, a choir, the school orchestra and three solos, one of which will be Tommy’s.’
‘Yes, I know. It’s going to be a long evening, no doubt some good and some pretty hopeless. I hope Tom won’t let nerves get the better of him.’
‘He has no reason to be nervous; he has a remarkable talent. Have you forgotten that Mr Messer has been talking to him about getting in at one of the foremost music schools, either Manchester or London.’ She held her bottom lip between her teeth remembering how the music master had talked to her when she had driven the children back at the end of their last half-term break. Was it fair to uproot him at this stage? Of course plenty of first-rate musicians trained in the States, but Tom was so sure of the way he planned his future here in England.
‘If he wants to find somewhere for lessons once we get settled there’s no reason why he shouldn’t. I expect the schools teach as well there as here. But I wouldn’t mind betting that being dropped down somewhere so different, our young Tom will suddenly blossom and find lots of new interests.’ He picked up the conversation where he’d put it down. ‘We’ll have to get the house on the market. You could go and see the estate agent on Monday. Tell the Meinholt lot that you’re leaving the country, give the keys to the agent and power of attorney to the solicitor and off we go. Simple.’ Then kissing the end of her nose just as she used to see him do to Fiona when a tantrum threatened because she wasn’t allowed her own way, he added, ‘We’ll be on that plane in less than a month.’
His excitement was infectious but she still couldn’t escape an underlying feeling of irritation. Perhaps it was because he had brushed Tom’s prospects to one side so easily or perhaps because he was being impractical.
‘You’re a dreamer not a realist. We can’t just walk away without tidying up all the odd ends.’ Then, her voice softening as she moved her head away from him and looked around her. ‘Remember when you first made enough money that we could buy this house? Remember, Peter? Think how thrilled we were when it was filled with workmen making it just as we wanted.’
‘I rememb
er it all.’ And she knew from his soft voice that, like her, he was journeying back down the years. They were silent, still holding each other but now far enough apart that they were looking around, each conjuring up memories. ‘It’s full of the spirit of our years.’ He was the first to speak. ‘The twins taking their first tottering steps, can’t you just see them, Fiona staggering ahead and Tommy following trying to catch her – and think of the stories the fireside rug in the sitting room could tell of so many evenings, just us when they were in their cots and asleep. The only light from the log fire; just the two of us. Once you start to think back the memories come tumbling at you. Christmas trees that reached to the ceiling … filled stockings to be carried up and exchanged for empty ones … Easter egg hunts in the garden …’ They were silent, following their own paths through the years. When he spoke again she knew he had put the images behind him. ‘If another family comes here our spirit will be gone and they’ll start with a clean sheet.’
‘I hate to imagine another family here. I want it to stay just as it is.’ She shared all Peter’s enthusiasm, yet something seemed to be holding her back. What had happened to the people they used to be that they could plan to shut the door for the last time on the home that had given them such pride, had been for them a symbol of Peter’s success and everything that was good in their marriage.
‘Stay just as it is? Is that what you’ve thought when night after night you’ve been here alone?’ Peter replied.
‘Anyway,’ she carried on, all her determination now back in place, ‘we’ll put those same spirits into somewhere new. As long as we are all of us together and the children won’t suffer for such a big move at their ages, then it will be fine. When did you promise you could go?’
‘I told Hermann I’d fly out during the second week of August, about six weeks away. Not long, darling. Can’t you just picture the kids climbing up those steps into the plane, the world at their feet. Theirs and ours too.’
