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The Forget-Me-Not Sonata(146)

By:Santa Montefiore


When Leonora told him her news he put down the box and patted her firmly on the back. ‘What good news,’ he said but he couldn’t hide his unease for his voice was flat. Audrey understood his concerns immediately and couldn’t help but imagine what the Crocodiles would have made of it. But Louis had taught her the value of love and she would fight for her daughter. She was confident, however, that she wouldn’t have to.

‘Cecil,’ she said, smiling at him reassuringly. ‘Leonora and Florien love each other. They’ve grown up together and their life at Holholly has given them a common ground.’

‘I love him, Daddy. I always have,’ said Leonora.

‘They’re destined to be together, Daddy,’ Grace added in her carefree way, hopping from one foot to the other, with one eye on the flat box. ‘I’ve known it for years but I made a promise not to read people’s futures after I read Nelly’s. Trust me, I know.’

‘I’m only thinking about your future, Leonora. You’re from two very different backgrounds. Have you thought long and hard about it?’

‘I don’t have to,’ she said and smiled broadly at her mother.

‘He’s a gypsy,’ Cecil said, rubbing his chin with his hand.

‘And I’ll be a gypsy too. Daddy, I’m happy, what more could you want?’

Cecil looked once again at his wife. He dropped his shoulders and shook his head. ‘My dear Leonora, I wouldn’t be doing my duty as your father if I didn’t raise the question. If you’re happy, then I’m happy. You have my blessing.’ When he smiled one could still detect the shadow of a once dazzlingly handsome face.

‘Thank you,’ Leonora cried, embracing him. His opinion mattered much more than she had realized.

‘Can I be bridesmaid?’ Grace asked, hovering about the box.

‘You and your fairies,’ said Leonora.

‘Goodie. I’ll dance down the aisle in my ballet dress.’ Audrey grinned at Leonora who laughed at her sister indulgently.

‘I’m going to be a gypsy,’ she said. ‘I’m going to live in a pretty caravan in the middle of a field.’

‘In my day the man asked the girl’s father for her hand in marriage,’ said Cecil.

‘Oh, Cecil. It’s the seventies for goodness’ sake,’ Audrey replied. ‘Everything was so different in our day. Florien’s a gypsy. They probably have their own codes,’ she added, imagining that they would want to wed in the woods like the hippies.

‘He’s too shy to ask for my hand. But he wants your blessing too.’

‘You have it, darling,’ exclaimed her mother in delight. ‘You have both our blessings. No one deserves to be happy more than you.’

At that moment Grace burst out laughing. They all turned and looked at her in surprise. ‘What are you laughing at, my love?’ Audrey asked.

Leonora rolled her eyes. ‘Alicia’s coming home today and she’s going to be very very cross.’ Then she turned her animated little face to her father. ‘Is this box going to remain on the ground or are you going to build me a palace, Daddy?’





Chapter 31



Grace was right. Alicia was furious. But she was much too cunning to reveal her anger to her sisters and parents. Instead she congratulated Leonora by embracing her, albeit coldly, and then drove over to Aunt Cicely’s house to confront Florien.

‘You don’t love her!’ she said in a mocking tone when she found him at last in his tractor awaiting the long arm of the combine. A glint of triumph sparked in his eyes as he looked upon her livid face.

‘Yes, I do. I love her more than I ever loved you,’ he said. He suppressed the desire to grab her by her shoulders and kiss her petulant mouth, for her skin was moist with sweat and brown from her recent trip to France. Her blue eyes sliced through him and in spite of the ugliness of her character they bewitched him still. He averted his gaze and stared out into the cornfield where the combine moved sedately through the golden sea of wheat.

‘You still want me, don’t you?’ she said and smiled spitefully. ‘You can still have me if you like.’

‘I don’t want you, Alicia. I had you when I was a boy and then I grew up.’ She laughed contemptuously and he cringed inside. She still had the ability to make him feel as small as one of those grains of wheat that were strewn over the floor of the tractor. He recalled the day she had made him kill the chicken and he suffered the same sense of humiliation all over again. ‘Don’t flatter yourself,’ he retorted at her laughter.

Her expression softened and she edged nearer. ‘I don’t need to, Florien,’ she said quietly. ‘You’re more handsome than I remembered. You’re stronger too. Working on the farm does you good. Let’s not talk about love.’