The Forget-Me-Not Sonata(11)

It wasn’t until they were on the point of leaving that Audrey found herself alone with Louis beneath the soft light of the street lamp. She glanced anxiously back up the path to see the rest of her family lingering at the door with Cecil, pointing to the strange tree in the corner of the garden that had no known name and always baffled everyone, even the many expert botanists who had come from all over South America to identify it. Louis swept his sandy hair off his forehead with an unsteady hand and settled his eyes on the nervous young woman who shuffled from foot to foot beside him, suddenly unsure of herself now that she was on her own. ‘Do you dance?’ he asked. It struck Audrey that his question wasn’t motivated by politeness but by genuine curiosity, for he looked at her intensely as if her answer was of great importance to him.

‘A little,’ she replied, unable to help but smile through her shyness. ‘I don’t think I’m a very good dancer.’

‘I think you’d be a very good dancer. You have a natural grace when you walk. You see,’ he mused, watching her shift her weight from one foot to the other. ‘You’re already dancing and you’re not even aware of it.’

She glanced down at her feet. ‘I don’t think I am,’ she said. ‘I don’t dance very often. I don’t have the opportunity.’

‘I’d like to learn to dance the tango,’ he said and flicked his fingers as if to the time of a melody that only he could hear. ‘I’d like to dance over the cobbled streets of Buenos Aires. I’d like to dance with you.’ Audrey bit her lip and then watched in amazement as he began to hum, moving his body in time, lifting his hands and knees with the fluidity of a trained dancer. Audrey laughed and this time she saw his face open into the widest and most captivating grin she had ever seen. He was never happier than when he was giving way to the constant rhythms that played in his head and his enjoyment lit him up from the inside like a lantern. Audrey thought of Aunt Edna’s sunshine husband and knew what she meant.

‘You certainly know how to dance,’ she said truthfully, wishing she had the nerve to dance with him.

‘Yes, but not the tango.’

‘It’s a beautiful dance.’

‘Beautiful,’ he agreed. ‘It’s formal yet simmering with sensuality. It’s the most romantic of dances. So close yet not close enough. It makes my hair stand on end just to watch it, but to dance it, now that would be truly something.’ His eyes widened with excitement.

‘They dance the tango in Palermo,’ she said. ‘Have you been to Palermo?’ He shook his head. ‘There’s a little café there where they hold tango evenings. I know because Aunt Hilda’s maid has been. That’s a secret by the way, Aunt Hilda would be appalled. She considers the tango as intimate as . . . as . . .’ she blushed.

‘As making love?’ he interjected.

‘Yes,’ she replied tightly, swallowing hard.

‘She’s right, it is. That’s why I like it. Your aunt must be a dry old thing.’ Audrey laughed, touching her hot cheeks with her hand, hoping to cool them down. ‘Perhaps one day some lucky man will take you to tango in Palermo,’ he said quietly.

‘Not if my aunt has anything to do with it, or my mother for that matter. I don’t think it’s something that a nice young lady is expected to do.’

‘How boring to have to be a nice young lady. Nice young ladies should only have to perform up to midnight, after that they should be allowed to step off the stage and have some fun. I’d like to see you leave the theatre by the back door and tango your way into the sunset.’ Then he added in a quiet voice, ‘You’re a dreamer like me. People don’t understand dreamers. We frighten them. Don’t be afraid to dream, Audrey.’

There was a heavy silence while Audrey struggled past her embarrassment to find something to say and Louis watched her, enthralled. He was certain that they were two of a kind, that she was the first person who understood him. With the instincts of a child Louis perceived Audrey’s big heart and vast capacity to love and he was drawn to her with a need that made his whole body tremble.

Just when Audrey was on the point of floundering, her parents led the small group down the path to join them. They were still laughing and discussing the strange tree. ‘So what do you call it?’ Cecil asked.

‘The bird tree,’ Henry replied.

‘Because for some reason it attracts all the birds in summertime,’ said Rose, linking her arm through her husband’s.

‘Well, it’s a delight, whatever it is,’ Cecil concluded. ‘Thank you so much for inviting us, Rose, we’ve had a charming evening.’