The Forget-Me-Not Sonata(160)

‘No, he’s very different,’ her mother agreed, but Grace didn’t detect the wistfulness that caused her voice to crack.

‘I’m glad I met Uncle Louis. He’s very kind to me.’

Audrey was too moved to speak. She stared out over the valley that lay before them, her face bathed in the golden light of sunset. When Grace turned to her she noticed that her mother’s eyes were streaming with tears.

‘Oh, Mummy. The view?’ she asked, linking her arm through hers. Audrey nodded because the lump in her throat had muted her. ‘Beautiful things always make us melancholy,’ she continued, squeezing her mother’s arm, without realizing the significance of her words. ‘It’s because we can’t hold onto them forever.’ Overwhelmed by memories, Audrey’s shoulders shook. Grace assumed her mother’s tears were in response to the magnificence of the sky. ‘We must tell Daddy about this view. He’d love it. What a shame he didn’t want to come with us.’ But Audrey was grateful for this moment alone on the hill with her daughter. It was a private moment in which Cecil had no place. She gazed out over the darkening valley and pictured Louis’ face as Grace had described it. She knew she would never see it for herself.

The following day Grace believed herself to be alone. Her father had driven to the garden centre to buy some poinsettias and her mother was visiting Leonora and her grandchildren. She sat down at the piano, feeling as guilty as a schoolgirl about to break the rules, and rested her fingers on the keys. She remembered the promise she had made to Louis, but, she reassured herself, she was alone and her fingers were just itching to play it.

Quietly she began to play the poignant tune he had taught her. Softly at first in case her mother should return without her hearing, or her father come through the garden with the plants. But slowly the notes wound around her like tentacles of ivy until she was aware of nothing but the expanse of dreams that opened up to her like the view on the hill. She couldn’t help but close her eyes and let the music carry her. And she flew, far away, to an unfamiliar place where she knew she didn’t belong, but for which her heart yearned. She saw the vast plains of Argentina where a young man and woman were galloping in chase of ostriches. It was sunset and the pampa was bathed in a rich amber colour beneath a vast golden sky. The beauty of it caused her eyes to swell with tears. There was something moving about the couple. Their joy was grounded in sorrow. She felt their hopes and sensed their dreams as if they were her own. She tried to search deeper into her vision but suddenly instinct caused her to withdraw her fingers from the keys. She opened her eyes as her mother’s hand threw down the piano lid in fury. Grace was so shocked that she burst into tears. She looked up at her mother, whose face was as white as death. ‘I don’t ever want to hear you play that piece again. Ever,’ she shouted. ‘Do you understand?’ Her hands were trembling as she rubbed them together. It was as if she had scalded herself touching the piano. She stared down at her daughter with fear. When she saw her own fear reflected in Grace’s eyes she too dissolved into tears. She placed her shaking fingers over her mouth and dropped onto her knees. ‘I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,’ she whispered, frightened by the ferocity of her reaction. ‘I didn’t mean to hurt you. I’m so sorry, Grace.’

‘Oh, Mummy. What have I done?’ Grace sobbed, throwing herself onto the floor and wrapping her arms about her mother’s body. ‘I’m sorry too.’ They sat in each other’s embrace while ‘The Forget-Me-Not Sonata’ still rang in their ears. Finally Audrey took her daughter’s face in her hands and swept away her tears. She shook her head and pursed her lips together in resignation.

‘Your father is dying, Grace.’

Grace’s eyes widened like a startled animal caught in the headlights. She sat staring at her mother in disbelief. She had noticed how thin and pale her father was. But she hadn’t imagined that his health was failing.

‘He’s dying?’ she repeated, hoping that perhaps she hadn’t heard correctly.

Audrey nodded. ‘He’s riddled with cancer, my love. We’re losing him.’

Grace held her mother close and buried her face in her neck. ‘Why didn’t you tell me?’ she asked. ‘How long has he been ill?’

‘Two months. Years. I don’t know for sure. But it’s everywhere. He hasn’t got long. We didn’t want to frighten you.’

‘But, Mummy, he’s my father. You should have told me.’

Audrey pulled away and sat back on the carpet. ‘My love, your father is a proud man. He doesn’t want everyone fussing over him. Least of all me.’