The Forget-Me-Not Sonata(110)
They drove back up the dusty highway in silence, for a heaviness had descended upon them. They tried to think of what they had to look forward to and they had to remind themselves that they still had each other. They held hands and listened to the radio as the countryside was slowly swallowed up by the buildings of the city. They left behind them the tranquillity of the sleeping pampa and their illusory freedom, and prepared themselves once again for deception. Tonight Audrey would have to find another excuse to banish her husband from the marital bed and Louis would sleep alone, tormented by the scent of her skin still clinging to his. And they would both long for each other, separated only by the walls of the house and the prudence in their hearts. But walls can be broken down and prudence can be abandoned.
As the days passed and Isla’s memorial service approached, Audrey knew that it wouldn’t be long before she surrendered. It was inevitable and she was ready for it.
Chapter 23
At Isla’s funeral Louis had sat at the very back of the church. Twelve years later, at her memorial service, he sat at the very front. Both he and Audrey were aware that it was because of their lies that this celebration of Isla’s life was happening at all, and they both felt decidedly uncomfortable about it. Audrey tried to convince herself that her mother only needed the smallest excuse to remember her younger daughter in this way. She would have found something else to centre it around had Louis not turned up. But she knew how ill everyone would think of them if the truth ever came out. Lying about an illicit affair was bad enough but Isla was dead and couldn’t speak up for herself. It was shameful, in a church of all places. Audrey stared at the crucifix that stood on the altar, bathed in sunlight that streamed in through the stained-glass window, and remembered with some consolation that she hadn’t committed adultery yet, although it was only a matter of time. She was certainly on the road to Hell, but the road was a long one and she was willing to enjoy Louis now and pay for it later in which ever way God thought fit to punish her.
She sat between Louis and her husband in the same row as her parents and brothers. It was a tight squeeze as the boys were no longer children, but she didn’t mind because it meant she could discreetly press her body against Louis’ without anyone noticing the silent messages that passed between them. She looked at her brother Albert’s handsome face. He was a man now, barely resembling the skinny child who used to make houses out of cards for Isla to destroy with one swipe of her mischievous hand. She cast her eyes down the row to her other brothers and in their growing up she noticed more than ever the rapid passing of time. As a child the years had seemed long, now they were gone before one had time to enjoy them.
Cynthia Klein had passed away the previous autumn, buried in the city next to her friend Phyllida Bates. Only Diana Lewis and Charlo Blythe remained as two fragile strings in a once formidable quartet and they were now shrunken versions of their former selves. Diana was hard of hearing, but too proud to admit it, so she just talked over people so that they didn’t have the chance to speak and she didn’t have the chance to listen. Her mouth had all but disappeared into a distasteful pinch of disillusionment, for if one never smiles one forgets how to and if one’s thoughts are only negative one always looks glum. Charlo, on the contrary, had retained her silver dignity and at least had something to be happy about. Although the old Colonel’s mind seemed at times caught in the past like a record with a scratch that plays the same music over and over, he was company and Charlo never felt alone. She and Diana rarely spoke these days because Charlo wasn’t so interested in gossip as she once had been. She had found happiness and happy people are nice people. Diana had not.
Diana took a seat behind Aunt Hilda and her four daughters, muttering to herself so that no one would talk to her. She noticed Nelly’s face was paler than usual and the downward curve of her mouth was beginning to resemble her mother’s. Diana wondered if her unhappiness had anything to do with Louis. In spite of what everyone else said about him now, she still thought as little of him as she had when he had first come to Hurlingham. Carrying on with Isla in secret was not a way for a gentleman to behave. She leaned over and looked through the congregation to where Cecil sat beside his wife. Now that’s a proper young couple, she thought to herself. Audrey had always been above criticism whereas Isla had only been elevated to that happy position in death. Goodness knows what would have become of her had she lived. She sniffed and opened the service sheet. Louis was giving a reading. ‘How very inappropriate,’ she grumbled under her breath. Then she noticed her scarlet fingers and shrunk back in horror. Blood was everywhere. She was dying. She was about to fall into a faint when she remembered that she had been painting that morning. ‘Thank God!’ she cried out loud. ‘I’m not dead yet.’ Nelly turned around and frowned at her. Hilda dug her elbow into her side and Nelly turned back.