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The Forget-Me-Not Sonata(133)

By:Santa Montefiore


‘She won’t abuse her gift by reading fortunes,’ Audrey said. ‘She learned her lesson after she told Nelly she’ll never marry. Nelly hasn’t spoken to her since.’

‘But it doesn’t stop her mother from introducing her to every young man who comes to the Club. Such a humiliation for the poor girl.’ Aunt Edna sighed.

‘I don’t believe in Fate,’ said Alicia with a toss of the head. ‘You make your own future and I know exactly the way I want mine to be.’

Audrey looked at her wistfully. ‘I once believed that, my dear, but one can’t always have everything one wants.’ She caught her aunt’s eye. Edna smiled with compassion. She was pleased that she had convinced her to stay with Cecil all those years ago and she knew Audrey was too. It had been a painful sacrifice, but it had all turned out for the best. After all, beautiful Grace had been born out of their reconciliation and Grace was a very special little girl.





Chapter 28



Cecil and Audrey were like two characters in a play. They performed in public with finesse and removed their masks only when they were alone. Only Grace knew the torment that both parents suffered. She watched her mother’s dance of tears and observed her father’s secret drinking because she had the ability to creep around the house with the light step of a cat and hide in the shadows. But her psychic powers were unable to pick up the reason for their distress, which was unusual because Grace was very gifted. God obviously didn’t want her to intrude into her parents’ private pain.

Her father’s ill humour and sudden bouts of fury failed to affect Grace. She seemed detached, as if suffering was something experienced by other, more earthly people. As if she controlled her emotions rather than letting them control her. She required nothing of him. She didn’t want bedtime stories as Leonora and Alicia had done. She preferred to lie in the dark and sing to herself, talk to her spirit friends, or sit looking at the pictures in his collection of National Geographic magazines. This unsettled Cecil, who failed to understand his youngest daughter on any level. What frightened him the most, however, was the expression on her face when she looked at him. Her head on one side, a sympathetic smile and eyes that gazed at him with total understanding. ‘Daddy,’ she had once said after he had shouted at her for spying on him. ‘Your anger only hurts yourself, you know. If you didn’t drink so much of that witch’s brew you’d be a lot happier.’ Cecil had shaken his head in exasperation before storming out of the room, leaving the child sighing with the weariness of a patient old lady.

‘Mummy,’ she said later, when she found her mother reading in the garden. Audrey put down her book and held out her arms. Grace climbed on to her knee and snuggled up against her. ‘Why is Daddy so unhappy?’ Audrey suddenly looked defeated. Grace had never asked such a question.

‘He’s not so unhappy, my love. He just lets life get on top of him sometimes.’

‘He is unhappy. That witch’s brew is turning him into a monster. I don’t like the way he shouts at you.’

‘Oh, I don’t mind. I’m used to it.’ She stroked the child’s hair and kissed her wide forehead.

‘I don’t like to see you sad. You are sad sometimes, aren’t you?’

‘Everyone’s sad sometimes.’

‘I’m never sad.’

‘You’re very lucky.’

‘Why am I different?’ she asked suddenly.

‘You’re not different, my love, you’re special.’

‘But no one else I know can see fairies and spirits.’

‘You’re very gifted. God has opened your inner eye and enabled you to see the world of vibrations. Don’t be afraid of it. You’re very fortunate. You’ll never feel alone.’ Then she smiled as she recalled Isla’s funeral when the candle flames went out. ‘I had a sister once called Isla. She died when she was a young woman. I was very sad because I loved her very much. At her funeral I felt her presence there in the church. I couldn’t see her but I most certainly felt her. Then, as if it frustrated her not to be seen, she blew out two of the candles on the altar. That was typical of Isla, she was a very naughty girl. So, you see, you’re not so very different. Isla showed herself to me that day. You are lucky, you see spirits all the time. I only “saw” Isla once.’

‘What was Isla like?’ Grace asked.

‘She had long fair hair that fell over her shoulders and down her back in shiny, bouncing curls and sparkling green eyes. Her mouth was always twisted into a naughty smile and she laughed a lot. She would have loved you.’