‘You’ll get used to the darkness, in time it will cease to frighten you but will comfort you. After all, one cannot hide one’s secrets in the light of day.’
Audrey closed the door of her room behind her and leant back against it. She found Marcel very creepy, as if he could read her thoughts. She bit her lip anxiously. If he had heard her playing that afternoon he would have recognized the same tune that Louis had played because, according to Cicely, he had driven them all mad with it. She knew the way she played gave her feelings away and Marcel wasn’t a fool. He appeared to have worked it all out in one afternoon. She sighed wearily and walked over to the bed. Before she got in she noticed a small lump beneath the sheets. It stirred and stretched, then rolled over. Leonora opened her eyes dreamily. ‘Where have you been?’ she asked softly, without taking her head off the pillow.
‘Darling, are you afraid of the dark?’ Audrey asked, getting in beside her and gathering her into her arms.
‘Yes,’ the child replied. ‘And I’m scared of going to boarding school. I want to stay here with you and Aunt Cicely. I like Aunt Cicely and Barley.’
‘I know, my love, and I wish you could stay here too. But you have to be a big girl. You’ll love it when you get there.’
‘I know, I’m just being silly.’
‘No, you’re not being silly and I understand completely. You’re going to have to be very brave and so am I, because I’m going to miss you too. But sleep now, my love, and your fears will have gone in the morning.’
Leonora snuggled up against her mother and Saggy Rabbit and Audrey switched off the light. She relished the warm feel of her daughter’s body pressed tightly against hers and remembered Leonora as a baby, when a seamless future stretched out in front of them, before it was marred with the dread of separation. But now she wouldn’t witness her growing up, not the small changes that happen day to day. She wouldn’t be there to help with schoolwork, to wrap her arms around her when she was afraid or felt hard done by. She listened to her breathing and smelt the soft scent of soap that mingled with the fragrance of childhood. Her face was warm and soft and each time she kissed it Leonora nestled closer in her sleep, safe and secure in her mother’s embrace. But Audrey remained awake. At first she thought about Isla, how they had often slept like two puppies, limb carelessly draped over limb. Then she thought about Louis, but she was unable to forget her strange confrontation with Marcel. She blinked into the night and went over what he had said. He can’t really have believed her to be a thief because he would have seen the light on in her room. He must have deliberately come to find her.
Chapter 17
At first sight Colehurst House looked cold and forbidding. It was a large greystone mansion set in the vast, manicured grounds of a park, surrounded by velvet green hills. Aunt Cicely said that it had once been the private house of a very grand family whose portraits still hung collecting dust on the wooden panelled walls. In the late nineteenth century it was converted into a school when the last in the family line died without an heir. Audrey remembered the building from the brochure and it looked no less imposing in reality. Tall sash windows reflected the light and a vast door within the gates of an archway yawned like a toothless old man. There was a small church on the left where the lawn rose in a little hill and a giant cedar tree which dwarfed it. The long driveway was flanked by lush fields of fat ponies and weeping willows draped their branches into an ornamental pond. The drive opened out into a gravelled semicircle in front of the mansion and was now teeming with cars. Fathers in tweeds and v-neck sweaters lifted heavy trunks out of the boots and mothers chatted to other mothers while their Labradors ran around with their noses to the ground, wagging their tails, excited by all the new smells.
Audrey’s shoulders hunched with tension as she looked out onto this strange world where everyone seemed to belong but her and her children. She glanced anxiously back to the twins who sat in the rear seat staring out of the windows, wide-eyed and curious. Leonora was frightened. Her face was long and pale and with white-knuckled fingers she held Saggy Rabbit tightly against her. Alicia smiled eagerly as she observed with total confidence the unconquered territory that spread out before her. She wasn’t unnerved by the sense of alienation that had gripped her mother and sister. On the contrary, she felt her distinctiveness to be her trump card which she would use to rise to the top of the pile.
‘Look at all those lovely dogs,’ Audrey said, knowing how much Leonora loved animals.
‘There’s the tree that Caroline mentioned,’ said Alicia, pointing to the cedar. ‘I’m going to climb higher than everyone else.’
‘I once fell off at Dead Man’s Drop,’ laughed Cicely, ‘luckily I was so round back then, I bounced.’
‘And all those ponies to ride,’ Audrey continued. ‘You love ponies, don’t you, Leonora?’
‘They look very sweet,’ she replied. ‘It’s a big house,’ she added and Audrey winced at the nervous quiver in her voice.
‘In the summer term they take you out on the hills in the early morning. It’s heavenly galloping across them at dawn. There are the ruins of an old castle up there and we used to ride through it. Deliciously romantic,’ Cicely exclaimed, getting carried away with her memories.
‘I hope the house is haunted,’ Alicia said as they drew up outside. ‘I’ll write to Merchi the minute I see a ghost.’
Alicia hurried out of the car and stood on the gravel staring in excitement at the other girls and their parents. Leonora lingered beside her mother, worrying how on earth they were going to carry the trunks in by themselves. She didn’t see one other mother on her own, all the girls had come with both parents. Leonora wished her father were there, dressed in tweed and corduroy like the other fathers. She noticed a couple of girls look her over disdainfully, their narrowed eyes scanning her from top to toe, then shifting to her mother and aunt. She felt painfully at odds with everyone else and longed for home. But there was no turning back. She felt her throat constrict with fear and would have taken her mother’s hand had it not been for the other girls who might have laughed at her childishness.
‘Good God!’ Cicely exclaimed in a loud voice, waving furiously. ‘Dotty Hollinghoe, of all people!’ Audrey recognized the woman in a husky and headscarf as the one she had met in Debenham & Freebody. Leonora recognized Caroline and her spirits jolted back to life. ‘Audrey, come and meet Dotty, we were both here in the same year. Goodness me, eons ago!’ The woman smiled a toothy smile and pushed her daughter forward.
‘Cicely Forrester! What a delightful surprise. Although I’m Stainton-Hughes now.’
‘And I’m Weatherby,’ Cicely replied, kissing her.
‘We’ve already met,’ said Audrey, extending her hand. Although she didn’t warm to Dorothy Stainton-Hughes, she felt a great relief at knowing someone and blending in with everyone else who all seemed pleased to see each other after the long summer break. She watched Caroline approach Leonora and felt pathetically grateful to the child for befriending her daughter. When she looked around for Alicia, she was nowhere to be seen.
Alicia was used to people staring at her. She was a beautiful child and unusually for a little girl of ten she was well aware of her own allure and the power it gave her. She strode into the hall and sniffed the smell of polish and old wood like a dog familiarizing itself with its new territory. A group of girls crowded around a notice board which was pinned up in the entrance to the great hall where long tables formed a large square, already laid up for supper. A waft of boiled cabbage floated in as the doors to the corridor and kitchen opened and a fat cook in a white apron and hat waddled off into the shadows wielding a wooden spoon. Alicia joined the huddle of girls and saw that they were looking at lists of names typed out beneath highlighted names of writers, such as Shakespeare and Marlow, Milton and Shaw. She searched for her name and found it beneath Dickens. She was about to look for Leonora but a light tapping on her shoulder stopped her in her tracks and she turned around.
‘And who might you be?’ said a tall, thin woman with short silver hair and hooded brown eyes. Her tone was commanding but gentle and Alicia knew instinctively that she was someone very important.
‘Alicia Forrester,’ she replied. The lady raised her eyebrows and nodded.
‘Ah, one of the twins. I’m Diana Reid, your headmistress,’ she said in a clipped English accent.
‘Hello,’ Alicia said boldly, looking at her steadily. The headmistress was disarmed by the child’s self-assurance. This one’s going to be trouble, she thought to herself.
‘You’re in Dickens and your sister’s in Milne. They’re next to each other.’
‘Bedrooms?’
‘Dormitories. Ten beds in Dickens and eight in Milne. They look out onto the box garden. Very pleasant. Now where’s your mother?’
Alicia led Miss Reid outside to where Audrey was listening to Dorothy Stainton-Hughes and Cicely reminiscing about their school days. ‘Absolutely nothing’s changed,’ they were saying. When they saw Miss Reid they both stood to attention like soldiers, suddenly on best behaviour.
‘Dotty and Cicely, you were in the same year, were you not?’ said Miss Reid, looking at them as if they were still pupils of hers. They laughed and nodded. ‘Do you still ride, Cicely?’
‘Not really, no,’ Cicely replied apologetically.
‘Shame, you were rather promising if I remember rightly.’ Then she looked down at Alicia. ‘I found this little stray in the hall, whom does she belong to?’ Audrey smiled and nodded her head.
‘Me. Audrey Forrester, it’s a pleasure to meet you, Miss Reid,’ said Audrey, who recognized the headmistress from the photograph in the brochure.
‘Please call me Diana.’ She bent down stiffly to retrieve a scruffy-looking terrier who was scratching at her stockings. ‘This is Midge,’ she said. ‘Midge gets overexcited by all the other dogs then collapses with exhaustion. I think he’s just about had enough, haven’t you, Midge?’ Midge licked his mistress’s nose and wagged his thick little tail.
‘This is Leonora,’ said Audrey, putting her arm around her daughter’s shoulders. Leonora’s cheeks flushed pink, but Miss Reid’s face softened into a kind smile. She was used to new girls and understood their fear. Beneath her icy shell blazed a compassionate soul.
‘Ah, the other twin. Why don’t you all come with me and I’ll show you to your dormitories.’
‘Which are they in, Miss Reid?’ Cicely asked, winking at Dotty.
‘Dickens and Milne.’
‘Oh, I was in Milne!’ Dotty exclaimed in excitement. ‘Do you remember Shoddy Hambro, she used to hide her sweets in the secret cubby hole. Do they still do that?’
‘I’m sure they do. One turns a blind eye occasionally,’ the headmistress replied, walking into the toothless yawn.
They followed her up the front stairs, shiny polished oak steps that creaked like old bones and Cicely recounted how she was always in trouble for sneaking up them instead of the backstairs which were for the children. ‘These portraits used to give me the creeps,’ she laughed, ‘especially this one.’ She pointed to a dark painting of an aged bishop whose cold eyes stared straight out at them. ‘Wherever one looks his eyes always follow.’ As they walked across the landing Audrey glanced back at the painting and saw that Cicely was right. His gaze pursued her so that when she turned away she still felt his stare on her back.
Diana Reid led them through a string of large dormitories that would once have been elegant reception rooms with ornate marble fireplaces and heavy mouldings on the ceilings. Each one was more beautiful than the last. Audrey looked at the rows of iron beds and tried to envisage what it must have been like as a private home. Diana Reid stopped every now and then to greet a parent or a child and comment in her firm but kind voice on a teddy bear placed lovingly on a pillow or to quieten a cluster of overexcited girls happy to be back after the long break. Leonora stayed close to her mother while her sister strode forward asking questions without compunction.
Finally they arrived at a white-walled room with tall sash windows overlooking the box garden. Alicia stood on the window seat and gazed down at the maze of box hedges that sat bathed in the golden light of evening. A fat pheasant stood in the middle, pecking at the grass. She thought of Florien and the chicken and smiled. She wondered whether he shot pheasants, or whether he wrung their necks. ‘You can choose your bed, Alicia,’ said Miss Reid, who still held Midge under her arm.
‘I’ll have this one,’ she replied, sitting on the one closest to the window. ‘That way if there’s a fire I can jump out.’
‘Let’s hope you won’t have to,’ said Miss Reid. She turned to Leonora and her expression softened. She instinctively understood the relationship between the two girls and was pleased she had had the foresight to place them in different dormitories. Leonora was clearly in the shadow of her sister who basked in far too much sunshine. ‘Now, Leonora, you’re next door. Come with me.’ The child stepped forward, leaving her mother admiring the view with Alicia and Aunt Cicely. Miss Reid showed her into Milne where the walls were rich brown oak, darkened with age and smelling of centuries of wear and tear. ‘Caroline Stainton-Hughes is also in this dormitory,’ she said, watching Leonora’s timid face open into a small smile. ‘She already knows the ropes because she has two sisters here. She’ll look after you, I’m sure.’ Leonora liked Miss Reid. She was the sort of woman who commanded respect but was fair and kind. She had that rare quality in a teacher that made the children want to do well for her. Leonora already wanted to impress her.
When Audrey entered with Alicia and Cicely she was heartened to see her more sensitive daughter standing contentedly by her bed talking to Miss Reid. ‘Right,’ the headmistress ordered, rolling her r and accentuating her t, ‘Bob and John will bring up your trunks and then I suggest, Mrs Forrester, that you leave the girls to settle in.’ She raised her eyebrows at Audrey before walking briskly back through Dickens. Cicely smiled encouragingly at her sister-in-law. Audrey felt her eyes begin to well with tears and her chest compress with panic. This was the moment she had been dreading for the last three years. She had lived for this, made all her plans for this, but she had never thought about afterwards. There hadn’t been an afterwards. She hadn’t had the courage to envisage it. As she passed Alicia’s bed she cast her eyes out of the window. It was now dark and empty, like her heart. Tomorrow Alicia would wake to the dawn breaking through that window. Tomorrow she would look out onto a different world. If she felt homesick or frightened she would have to suffer it alone. When Leonora slipped her hand into her mother’s Audrey thought she would choke with grief. But she forced herself to be jolly. She couldn’t show her children how miserable she was because if she broke down they were sure to follow. ‘Right,’ she said, imitating the headmistress’s way of speaking. ‘Let’s go and find Bob and John.’ Audrey smiled down at Leonora but she was too stunned to smile back. The reality of her situation was slowly sinking in. Her mother was leaving her here amidst all these strange people in this frightening old house. She tightened her grip and walked back downstairs in silence.
It was cold when they returned outside. Miss Reid had disappeared but two burly men in dungarees waited by the car. Leonora saw a few cars leaving up the drive, their headlights swallowed into the night. She blinked back her anxiety and stood biting her nails as her mother opened the boot and showed Bob and John the trunks. ‘The first night is the worst,’ said Aunt Cicely gently to Leonora. ‘But tomorrow it’ll be so exciting you won’t have time to think of home. You’ll be riding, playing netball, constructing camps down the avenue of chestnut trees they call Chestnut Village. There’s so much to do. You’ll be very busy. Just don’t forget to write to us, will you? Your mother will want to know how you’re getting on. We’ll write to you too.’ She didn’t place her arm around her niece’s shoulders because she instinctively knew that the child would disintegrate. She glanced over at Alicia who hopped about from foot to foot with impatience as if longing
for her mother and aunt to leave. Cicely hoped Audrey wouldn’t drag out the goodbyes; it would only make the parting more agonizing.
‘Well, darlings, we’d better be off,’ said Audrey, trying very hard to mask her unhappiness. But Leonora wasn’t fooled, she heard the quiver in her mother’s voice and she crumpled into tears.
‘I don’t want you to leave me here,’ she sobbed, clutching Saggy Rabbit to her chest. Her shoulders rose and fell as her breathing was reduced to a pant. ‘Don’t leave me here, Mummy.’
Audrey drew the child into her arms and held her so tightly she feared she might smother her. ‘You’ll be fine when you settle in. Goodbyes are the hardest part,’ she soothed, wiping her own tears on her daughter’s coat. Her child felt desperately small and frail in her embrace and it was all Audrey could do not to carry her back into the car and take her home.
‘Don’t worry, Mummy, I’ll look after her,’ said Alicia, with a hint of impatience in her voice. ‘She’ll be fine when you’ve gone.’ Audrey tried to pull away but Leonora held onto her with all her strength.
‘I don’t like it, Mummy. Please take me home,’ she begged in a voice hoarse with fear. ‘Take me home.’
‘You’re coming out for the weekend in a fortnight. That’s not very long, is it?’ But nothing would console the child who was now weeping so violently she couldn’t speak.
‘You must leave her,’ said Cicely, touching Audrey’s arm. ‘You’ll only make it worse.’ Audrey prised open her child’s arms and still holding her small hand she kissed Alicia.
‘Look after her, won’t you,’ she said in a desperate tone. ‘She needs you more than ever now.’
‘I will,’ Alicia replied, struggling to take Leonora’s other hand which held Saggy Rabbit in a tight grip. ‘Come on, Leo, it’s not that bad. It’s going to be a hoot.’
Audrey fled without looking back. If she had she would have seen Leonora’s forlorn little face staring at her in disbelief as the car swept up the gravel. Instead she threw her head back against the seat and cried. ‘How could I cause my daughter so much pain? I’m a monster,’ she wailed. Cicely’s eyes filled with tears and she recalled her first night at Colehurst House. The loneliness and emptiness was something she would never forget as long as she lived. Although she had grown to love the place with a passion, there was nothing quite like that first night.
The Forget-Me-Not Sonata Page 23
