The Forget-Me-Not Sonata(159)

Cecil chewed on the end of his cigar. ‘What else did Grace say?’ he asked thoughtfully.

‘She probably doesn’t dare mention his name. I’m afraid I told her that you two fell out all those years ago.’

‘You did?’

‘Well, of course I did, Cecil,’ she explained, feeling guilty, as if she had betrayed a secret. ‘It wasn’t right to let her go to Dublin without knowing that her uncle lived there. They have the same name. He lives in the college and from what I hear he’s extremely well known there. Someone would have introduced them. Was I wrong?’

‘No, no. You’re right. Besides, he’s her uncle. Blood is thicker than water and all that.’ He chuckled again and puffed on the cigar but inside he felt weak with jealousy. Louis had stolen his wife’s heart and now he stood poised to take his daughter’s too. He swallowed hard and felt a shortness of breath that caused him to cough.

‘Really, Cecil, you don’t look very well at all.’

‘Change the record, Cicely,’ he snapped unintentionally, then spotted Audrey and Grace walking past the window. ‘Ah, they’re back. Good.’

‘We went for such a long walk. It’s dark outside,’ said Grace happily, her cheeks glowing from the cold. ‘Mummy, tell Daddy about the sunset. It really was magical.’

‘Up there on the hill. I promise you it flooded the land with treacle. The sky was red as if it were on fire,’ said Audrey. Cecil noticed that her eyes were raw and watery. There must have been a bitter wind.

‘And pink too,’ added Grace.

‘And pink. It was as if God was putting on a show especially for us.’

‘How wonderful,’ he exclaimed with forced enthusiasm. ‘I wish I had been up there with you.’ Then he put his arm around Grace and kissed her temple. She looked at him in puzzlement. He wasn’t a demonstrative man and such a gesture took her by surprise. Audrey saw it too and her expression suddenly clouded with sorrow, but she blinked her emotions away and followed them out into the hall.

‘Why don’t you come for dinner tomorrow night?’ said Cicely. ‘No point walking around the farm until dark and then having to go home and cook. I’ll do a chicken.’

‘If a chicken’s on offer I’ll say yes for Mummy and Daddy,’ said Grace with a grin.

‘We’d love to,’ Audrey replied, still shaken by Cecil’s tender kiss on his daughter’s temple.

As Cicely watched them drive away she turned to her husband and said, ‘I don’t think Cecil’s at all well.’

‘No, he doesn’t look good.’

‘I hate secrets,’ she said suddenly. ‘I really hate secrets. Cecil and Audrey have far too many. I don’t know what I’m allowed to say and what I’m not.’

‘Darling, don’t think about it. Cecil wasn’t cross.’

‘He was hurt. God knows why. He wasn’t possessive like that about the twins.’

‘Grace is different, anyone can see that. He just doesn’t want his cantankerous younger brother getting close to his precious little girl. If he fell out with him as you say, it’s only natural.’

‘Well, pooh to all that,’ Cicely exclaimed, walking down the passage to the kitchen. ‘He’ll get over it. He’ll have to. Louis and Grace are two of a kind.’

Alone on the hill Audrey had asked her daughter about Louis. Her curiosity had finally got the better of her. Grace’s reply had taken her as much by surprise as Cecil’s tender kiss later.

‘At first he was a sad old man, plagued by the past, a prisoner of his memories. But little by little he lightened up. Now he’s my best friend. We do everything together. We laugh all the time, discuss philosophy, play the piano and chill out. I know Daddy fell out with him, but that doesn’t have to affect me, does it?’

‘Of course not,’ Audrey replied, putting her hands in her pockets and hunching up her shoulders. ‘I’m glad that you make him happy.’

‘Oh, I do. He didn’t smile much at the beginning.’ There was a pause while Audrey wondered whether it was healthy to question her daughter further. Perhaps it was better to leave Louis in the past with the ‘Forget-Me-Not Sonata’ and her silk-bound book. But she tried to envisage him old and could not, so she persisted.

‘What’s he like?’

Grace laughed. It seemed an absurd question seeing as he had lived with them in Buenos Aires, according to Aunt Cicely. Had he changed so much?

‘He’s got long grey hair. He doesn’t brush it very much. It’s a bit messy. He tries to look tidy but does a hopeless job,’ she said with a smile. She was delighted she was able to talk about her friend at last. ‘He’s tall and strong, like a bear. A lovely, cuddly bear. He’s not bony like Daddy, he’s soft. He has these amazing blue eyes that go from looking sad to happy in a moment. You never know what he’s going to do next. He’ll suddenly cry over a piece of music then laugh a minute later at something I say. But as much as he laughs there’s something very sad about his old eyes. His lashes are white, they glisten as if they’re frozen, like icicles. He’s a gifted musician. He plays so beautifully. I study in his sitting room while he plays. He composes, you know. Like I do actually, except now he writes a lot of it down. It’s a hobby of his. He said he was never disciplined enough as a young man to write down what he makes up. He’s very gifted.’ She sighed, remembering him fondly. ‘He’s not at all like Daddy and Aunt Cicely.’