A Dream Come True

by Margaret Carr

  She sat in the rocker in the kitchen, MacBeth on her lap. He followed her everywhere, her constant companion. They were quite wrong about him, she knew that now. Training school had taught him not to bark at other dogs and whatever had happened to Ruthie, there must have been some other explanation, for he was not a vicious dog.

  She took him to the hospital with her and the children there loved him. After allowing himself to be patted and played with he would go over to the nurses’ station and lie patiently under the desk until she was ready to leave. Marquis consented to sharing his home, but only on condition that he, Marquis, was boss.

  MacBeth silently acknowledged the cat’s superiority and never rushed to be fed first or muscle in on the hearth rug. But of Cassie’s personal space, the cat had no ambitions and this was left to MacBeth alone.

  Of Marc, there had been no sign. Then one day, out of the blue, two tickets arrived for a concert in town. Unsure what had prompted him to send them, she considered whether she should go or not.

  It was her day at the hospital and a perfect opportunity to give the tickets away as the coming concert was the main topic of conversation among the nurses, several of whom where desperately in love with Domino. The staff were further thrown by the news of a large donation to the Paediatric Ward. The children’s ward was in desperate need of money and the news that it was specifically for them and not to be swallowed up in other areas of the hospital came as a great relief.

  All in all it was a good day and Cassie, going home in a much lighter frame of mind, decided that yes, she would go the concert. Once home, she rang her friend in the next village who was delighted to accompany her in two weeks’ time to a Domino concert.

  Leaves lay in crispy bundles down the sides of the drive and patterned the lawns, the days were shortening and winter wasn’t far away the night Cassie set out to pick up her friend. Alf had been around to make sure she knew about the forthcoming concert and was delighted when he heard that she was going.

  ‘You won’t be disappointed, Mrs,’ he’d said.

  Barbara Thompson was a friend from early schooldays and Cassie had only recently rekindled the acquaintance. The discovery that they still had a lot in common despite Barbara’s marriage and the care of two elderly relatives, was a pleasure she hadn’t anticipated.

  Her friend was dressed in black trousers and jacket with a white sweater and scarf. Cassie’s smart red coat over a warm skirt and jumper looked overkill in comparison.

  ‘My goodness, don’t tell me it’s one of those things where everyone wears black and white and falls around screaming their heads off.’

  Barbara laughed. ‘It’s not a pop concert, it’s classical and you’ll love it.’

  The seats were some of the best in the house and Cassie could feel her friend’s eyes on her as they lowered themselves into them. When the curtains went back, the stage was bare apart from a high stool with a back rest. There didn’t appear to be any backing group and the only lighting was soft and centred on the stool.

  When he walked on to the stage the applause was deafening. Dressed in close fitting black trousers, white open-necked loose shirt and black waistcoat, his dark hair flat against his head, he was breathtaking. As soon as he sat down the audience stilled. You could hear yourself breathe in the silence.

  When the first notes rippled across the auditorium the whole place seemed to sigh and Cassie was captivated. The performance lasted an hour then a break of fifteen minutes before the last performance which lasted three quarters of an hour. They filed out in silence and were just leaving the foyer when they were stopped by Mr Munro.

  ‘Miss Rennington nice to see you here. Did you enjoy the performance?’

  ‘Very much, thank you.’ She introduced her friend.

  ‘Mr Dominic sends his regards and invites you to join him in his dressing-room.’

  Startled, Cassie glanced at her friend.

  Mr Munro caught the glance. ‘Mrs Thompson as well, of course.’

  If Barbara had been MacBeth she would have been running around panting in excitement. So, smiling, Cassie inclined her head and followed Mr Munro.

  In truth, Cassie had been bowled over by Marc’s playing. Now her heart was bouncing around in her chest and making her feel quite sick with anticipation.

  She needn’t have worried, the dressing- room was full of people, but Mr Munro cut a path through the crowds and she found herself standing next to Marc. Ignoring everyone else he smiled a welcome as though there were only the two of them in the room.

  Cassie caught her breath and it was only Barbara’s nudging that reminded her to introduce her friend.

  ‘You didn’t tell me you knew him personally,’ her friend gasped as they left the building an hour later. ‘Why on earth did you turn down that offer of an invite to supper? I wouldn’t have hung around you didn’t need to worry about me.’

  ‘I didn’t turn it down because of you. The invite was for both of us, I’m sure. Aftershow parties just aren’t my thing. I’m sorry did I spoil your night?’

  ‘No not at all. He’s a wonderful performer, isn’t he? How did you meet him?’

  ‘He’s my neighbour, would you believe, and he knocked down my garden wall.’

  She didn’t like the expression on her friend’s face, nor the way she was nodding her head. Then they both laughed and for the first time Cassie admitted, ‘He is rather gorgeous, isn’t he?’

  There was a lot more to it than that, Cassie admitted to herself later that night as she tossed and twisted in bed. When their eyes met in the dressing-room it was as if some secret message had passed between them. He had been searching for her both on the stage and off. What would he have done if she hadn’t gone to the concert, but she had, and something deep down inside her told her nothing was going to be the same from now on.

  She had very little sleep that night and woke tired and anxious the following morning. MacBeth demanded a walk after breakfast then he and Marquis had a spat that ended up with a very angry cat sat on top of the press. Cassie scolded both of them and tried to settle down to some of her family history when the phone rang.

  When Marc’s voice came through the line she nearly dropped the receiver.

  ‘The children would like you to have dinner with us this evening.’

  She felt like saying, I’m not a threat to them over there, then? Then a tiny voice whispered, would Mae have the authority to warn her off without Marc’s knowledge?

  There was only one way to know.

  ‘Thank you, I’d like that.’

  ‘See you at seven’ and the line went dead.

  A monochrome day suddenly shot into Technicolor and there wasn’t enough time to do everything she had to do. What do you take children who invite you to dinner? Would the children be eating at that time of evening? The only wine she had in the house was hardly suitable for a person like Marc, but did she have time to go into town, if she wanted to have a bath and wash her hair. All these questions and more scrambled for position in her head.

  When seven o’clock came she had been sitting in the rocking chair ready and waiting for the past half-an-hour. The wine was wrapped and standing on the table. For the children there lay a box of homemade fudge and marzipan figures decorated with iced lacing.

  Nerves were getting the upper hand as she watched the pointers of the old clock on the mantelshelf. At two minutes past she stood up and, sending MacBeth to his bed, put on her coat and, picking up the gifts, left the house. It was cold and dark as she made to walk down the drive. But then a beam of torch light to her right made her hesitate. Marc was coming through the unlocked wicket gate.

  ‘Thought you might need a light’ he said and without asking took her arm and led her down the drive. ‘I’m pushing to get a street lamp down here. The nearest one to the church is outside Brown’s Guest House, not much good to us, is it?’

  ‘It would be a good idea. I haven’t a torch myself. I don’t usually go out at night, unless I drive.’<
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  The light above the church door was on but not strong enough to penetrate the trees that lined her drive. She handed over the gifts which he laid to one side as he took her coat.

  Then she would have gone through to the kitchen, but he opened the door across the hall. The children were all gathered in the lounge dressed and seated in shining expectation. Cassie had a struggle to keep a straight face, they looked so un-natural.

  Mae stood by a large Gothic fireplace, her glance never wavering from the children. Cassie feeling like Maria, out of The Sound Of Music, moved forward into the room.

  ‘Have you brought MacBeth?’ Sam wanted to know.

  ‘The cat sits on our wall, but it won’t come down,’ Donald said, while casting wary glances at Mae and fingering something in his trouser pocket.

  ‘They didn’t die,’ said Ruthie, while sucking her thumb.

  Marc told Sam that they hadn’t brought MacBeth while Cassie knelt down by the settee where Ruthie was curled up and said, ‘No, Ruthie, they didn’t die, they came to live with me.’

  ‘Can I come and live with you, too?’

  ‘Wouldn’t you miss your father and brothers and sisters?’

  ‘They could come too.’

  Marc came forward and lifting the little girl in his arms carried her from the room. ‘Are you sure you are going to be able to stay awake long enough to eat this dinner, Ruthie?’

  ‘Is Cassie coming?’ the tired voice asked as they all crossed the hall to the dining-room. Here, Mr Munro and the cook were waiting to serve tomato soup, sausage mash and peas and trifle for afters. Their favourite meal, Mr Munro, who had joined them for the meal, told Cassie.

  Ruthie fell asleep halfway through and Douglas disgraced himself by letting a half unconscious spider out of his pocket and frightening Dorothy. Mae sat aloof throughout the meal, answering only when spoken to. Back in the lounge the older children loved the homemade sweets and then it was time for bed and Mae guided them out of the room.

  Marc handed Cassie a glass of cherry brandy, her favourite, and said, ‘Thank you for this evening. I realise it probably wasn’t what you were expecting but the children missed you while I was away.’

  Cassie looked down at the brandy swirling in the glass. She couldn’t tell him that she had been warned off contact with the children, because he would want to know who by, as it obviously hadn’t been him, and she couldn’t see blaming Mae helping her relations with the girl.

  So instead she looked up and smiled. ‘It was a lovely evening. I enjoyed it very much.’

  Logs crackled and hissed in the large grate, their flames and the light from the many lamps warming the stone walls of the room. Thick green carpet covered the floor and green drapes hung at narrow Gothic windows of stained glass. The deep armchairs on either side of the fireplace, where they sat, were perfect for a relaxing evening, but Cassie was feeling anything but relaxed.

  ‘You have never been married, have you?’ The question came from Marc after a spell of silent contemplation.

  ‘No.’

  ‘But you love children.’

  ‘I love my career.’

  ‘As a teacher?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Don’t you want to get married and have children of your own?’

  Cassie frowned. ‘I’ve never met anyone I wanted to marry. And neither have you, it would seem.’ That should shut him up she thought, and was totally devastated by his answer.

  ‘I was married very young and she died.’

  Cassie gazed down into the nearly empty brandy glass. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said, before finishing off the brandy and rising to her feet.

  ‘Please, don’t,’ he placed his glass on a nearby table and rising crossed the floor to take her hands in his. ‘Don’t go like this, I’d like you to get to know the children and come over as often as you like. Will you do that?’

  She looked down at his beautiful hands, long and slim yet strong and calloused in places. When she thought of what damage he might have done to those hands chopping up the tree and building the garden wall, she shuddered. What a loss he would be to the world of music.

  ‘Yes,’ she said, refusing to look at him directly. ‘But I must go now, MacBeth will be fretting.’

  He led her out into the hall and helped her on with her coat. When he picked up the torch Cassie realised he wasn’t going to let her go home alone. At the door of the vicarage Cassie turned to say, ‘Goodnight,’ but he was already halfway to the wicket gate.

  CHAPTER SIX

  In the days before Christmas Cassie wondered what life would have been like without Marc and the children next door. Her beautiful home was complete, she had the pets and was doing well with her family history. She loved her work at the hospital keeping the children busy, helping them with their schoolwork, listening to them read and admiring their artwork.

  Marc’s children were in and out of the vicarage garden now, Sam to play with MacBeth and the twins. If they weren’t building dens in the orchard they were at the back door hoping to be offered pop and biscuits.

  Her reactions to Marc’s occasional appearances in her kitchen, she tried not to think about. In the weeks since the concert she had found it harder to ignore the attraction between them. He had begun to matter to her in a way that scared her. Did she tell him of her past, of the secret reason why she no longer worked? How would he react, she wondered.

  He had lost his wife at an early age and surrounded himself with children from tragic backgrounds. A talented, successful artist, financially secure, surely he would understand where she was coming from.

  As though her thoughts had conjured him up she watched him supervising the erection of the new street light at the bottom of her drive. He turned and waved when he saw her sitting in the lounge window seat. She raised a hand, then, on impulse, was hurrying through into the hall and reaching for her coat.

  The workmen were finishing off when she arrived.

  ‘How on earth did you arrange it so quickly,’ she asked Marc. ‘It normally takes forever to get anything done these days.’

  He laughed. ‘I have a music lover on the Parish Council.’

  Cassie groaned. ‘It wouldn’t be a certain Mr Manners would it?’

  ‘How clever of you to guess.’

  They were walking arm in arm back up the drive to the house. He followed her inside and into the lounge where she offered him a drink.

  ‘I would like you and the children to spend Christmas day with me, if that is possible?’

  He gave her a strange look. ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘Of course,’ she smiled hesitantly.

  ‘Then we’d love to.’

  They continued to chat and finish their drinks then he kissed her cheek before leaving. After he had gone Cassie crossed to the mirror and stared at her reflection in the glass. She wasn’t a love struck teenager she chided herself, but she had a dreadful feeling she was in love. Dreadful because she was afraid, scared of the pain that would follow should she allow herself to dream.

  Cassie spent the last three days before Christmas preparing for her company. Mr Munro was roped in to help raise the Christmas tree as Marc had two local concerts to prepare for. Then there was all the shopping, food preparation and present wrapping and Cassie realised she hadn’t enjoyed herself so much for years.

  On Christmas Eve her friend, Barbara, came over for drinks with her husband. They were too polite to say anything but Cassie could tell they were not comfortable in her beautiful home. She walked around the house after their departure complimenting herself on its style and quality while in the back of her mind she saw Barbara’s lounge with its two old sofas draped in throws, the fifties style teak sideboard and the outsize television in the corner. Magazines and newspapers were scattered over a low table and a box of toffees lay on the floor by a bag of knitting. She shrugged, closed the door and headed back to the kitchen.

  Next morning with the smell of roasting turkey following her down the hall, Cassi
e opened the door to Marc and a group of very excited children. They all carried parcels in their hands and a chorus of greetings rang out as she welcomed them in.

  Sam made for the kitchen and the sounds of a scrabbling MacBeth. Donald headed for the stairs and would have been up them like a shot but for Marc’s hand on his collar. Mae was holding hands with Dorothy and Ruthie, though the little one was struggling to be free.

  All were shepherded into the lounge including MacBeth and the cat to sit around the Christmas tree and cast anxious glances at the parcels piled beneath. The cat curled up on the rug in front of the fire while MacBeth gave every package a thorough sniffing.

  ‘Shall we open them now or wait until tea time?’ Cassie asked Marc.

  ‘If we wait and take them home with us then we will not mess up Cassie’s beautiful home,’ Mae said.

  Marc, after one startled look at Mae said, ‘Yes, of course you’re right.’

  A howl of complaint came from Donald, and Ruthie, who had been piling the parcels they had brought amongst the others under the tree, said, ‘But I wanted to see Cassie open hers.’

  ‘Of course you do,’ said Cassie bending down and taking the little girl’s hand, ‘and if you come with me we will find a bag big enough to put all the wrappers in.’ So after indicating that Marc should help himself to a drink she left the room with Ruthie and a cross cat that was not impressed by the disruption.

  Halfway through the present-giving Cassie saw Mae say something to Marc. Laughing, Marc called a halt to the proceedings. ‘Enough for now kids, Mae is reminding us that we have a surprise for Cassie.’ Donald grumbled and Sam didn’t look too pleased but both left the tree and came to stand by their father.

  Mae left the room and returned with one of Marc’s guitars. Sitting at Marc’s knee she began to sing. Softly Marc accompanied her.

  She’s beautiful, Cassie thought, then while she listened to the love song she watched the girl’s face and realised with a shock that Mae loved him. At eighteen this was no child but a woman in love and the knowledge sent a savage pain through her heart.