Death often bequeaths a surprising gift to those left behind. An appreciation of life. So it was with Audrey and Cecil. They both sat together at the funeral and thought how many funerals they had been to and how each one had affected them profoundly. Audrey remembered her father whom she had adored and hoped that Grace was right, that there was life after death and that he was with Isla and Aunt Edna’s Sunshine Harry in some wonderful paradise. She flinched when Cecil took her hand. It reminded her of that time, all those years ago, when he had first taken it during the performance of Giselle at the Teatro Colón. This time she didn’t ignore it. She squeezed it, then her eyes glistened with tears. It was time to give Louis up for ever. She would leave the Argentine and all those memories behind. The cherry trees and the station, the Hurlingham Club and the cobbled streets of Palermo, Gaitano’s ranch and his silent understanding that continued to keep Louis’ memory alive. Happiness was up to her and she had a choice. She could either live in the past and be miserable or try to recapture the fondness she had once felt for her husband. Spring always follows winter, she thought and although it was cold outside, spring wasn’t far away.
It was time she admitted that Cecil’s drinking was her fault. With her help he could stop. She looked across at him, her eyes filled with compassion and squeezed his hand again. How noble he had been. He had remained with her when she had broken her marriage vows and then done what few men would have the courage to do, bring up another man’s child as his own. As far as he was concerned Grace was his third daughter and he had always treated her the same as the twins. How could she fail to appreciate all of that? ‘I’ve hurt you so much,’ she whispered.
His eyes flickered with emotion, but he put his finger across his lips, ‘Shhhh,’ he cautioned. ‘We’ll be overheard.’
‘I want to start again.’ This time he nodded at her then looked away. The alcohol had dulled his senses so that now he wasn’t sure whether he was imagining or hearing those words for real. ‘I want to earn your forgiveness,’ she continued in a loud whisper. Cecil was too moved to reply.
There was one thing that Audrey had to do before they left for England. Taking Grace with her she boarded the train for the city. ‘Where are we going?’ Grace asked, staring happily out of the window.
‘To a very special place that I want you to see before you leave.’
‘Will I like it?’
‘Yes you will. It’s a nice place, a magical place. I’ll take you for an ice cream afterwards if you like.’
‘Yummy,’ she enthused in excitement. ‘I can’t wait to see the gypsies.’
‘Well, Daddy’s bought a house very near to Aunt Cicely so you can see them as often as you like.’
‘I’m going to like England very much,’ she said. But she kept a fear to herself. For the first time in her life she felt apprehensive. Not about going to live in another country, that was a thrilling prospect, but she worried that the spirits might not go with her. She didn’t ask her mother if there were spirits in England because she knew she wouldn’t know the answer. And she didn’t want to ask her spirit friends in case they said no, for then she would be very sad to leave them. She would just have to wait and see. But the possibility that Isla might not be there at night to kiss her to sleep worried Grace very deeply.
Audrey and Grace arrived in Palermo. It had changed since the days when she had danced there with Louis. The small tavern was gone and in its place a restaurant now served lunch. The square was still as it was, the same jacaranda trees about to burst into flower with the arrival of spring, the same dilapidated buildings that surrounded it with the same dusty windows. But they stared at her with the eyes of strangers, for many years had passed and they failed to recognize her any more. Only the ghostly music of the tango floated on the air from a gramophone somewhere, or was it just the wind rattling through old memories?
Grace didn’t speak while her mother stood in the middle of the square, her thoughts lost in another era. She looked about her and wondered what was so special about this part of the city. It was old and worn and sad. She sensed the vibrations and her heart flooded with melancholy. The square was draped in a mist of nostalgia and Grace knew intuitively that it had something to do with her mother’s dance of tears. She looked up at her and saw that she was crying once again. But she still didn’t want to ruin the moment. Crying was very healing, that’s what her grandmother often told her. So she let her cry and wandered off to puff like a train into the cold winter air and watch her breath rise up in a cloud of steam.