The Forget-Me-Not Sonata(43)

‘All right, I’ll go down, but only if you promise to come and tell us what he says the minute he’s gone.’ Rose nodded her head and pushed her daughter gently by the elbow. Audrey heard her mother return to Isla’s room and close the door behind her.

The atmosphere in the sitting room was tense even though Albert and his two younger brothers played whist at the card table in the corner. Audrey sat beside Louis on the sofa while Cecil watched her stiffly from the armchair. ‘How is she?’ Henry asked in his usual phlegmatic tone as if he were asking as a matter of routine.

‘She’s not at all well, Daddy,’ Audrey replied solemnly.

‘Poor girl,’ said Louis, holding Audrey’s eyes for as long as he could without giving himself away. Audrey knew what he was thinking, but to her surprise she was unable to feel anything but anxiety for her sister.

‘She looks dreadful,’ she continued. ‘She was fine earlier, it’s just suddenly taken hold of her.’

‘The first night is always the worst with flu,’ said Cecil, wanting to be helpful. ‘The night is always bad.’ Then he added in a low voice, looking from Henry to Audrey, ‘Perhaps we should leave you all.’

‘Absolutely not, Cecil,’ Henry replied, picking up the humidor. ‘Cigar?’ Cecil leant forward and peered inside. ‘Damn fine cigars, fresh from Havana,’ said Henry with pride. ‘Louis?’ Louis shook his head. Cecil chose one and leant back in his chair to light it. ‘Isla’s made of strong stuff, she’ll be right as rain in the morning, you’ll see,’ he continued, smiling at Audrey. ‘It takes very little to worry the women in my family.’ He chuckled. ‘No one’s ever died of flu.’

Audrey sat quietly while Cecil and her father talked about politics and industry and then moved on to discuss the little island miles away that they considered home. Louis longed to hold her hand in order to give his support but she seemed far away, as if for the time being she had withdrawn her love. He felt his throat constrict at the thought of her slowly drifting away from him. He sensed something terrible was about to happen and his face drained of colour until he felt faint with nausea. Finally Audrey heard the doctor talking in a low voice with her mother at the top of the stairs. She strained her ears but was unable to make out what they were saying. They then descended into the hall, hovered while the doctor struggled into his coat then bade goodbye in raised voices that Audrey desperately tried to interpret as positive in tone. Eventually Rose entered the sitting room and forced a smile that quite clearly sat uneasily on her strained face. ‘She’ll be fine,’ she said, directing her words to Audrey. ‘It’ll be an uncomfortable night for her, but she’ll feel better in the morning.’

‘Can I go and see her?’ she asked.

‘Yes, but don’t be long, she needs to rest,’ replied her mother, sinking into a chair. ‘Being a mother is no easy task,’ she said and sighed, ‘one worries constantly about one’s children, even when they’re not children any longer.’

Louis watched Audrey leave the room and wanted to go after her. He knew that although the rain wouldn’t put her off their midnight rendezvous, Isla’s illness would. She was closer to her sister than she was to anyone else in the world and that included him. He watched Cecil smoke his cigar and knew that behind his steely composure he was equally anxious. Yet, Louis resented his brother’s anxiety. How dare he entertain such ideas. But as much as he wanted to crush his brother’s hopes he knew he’d have to wait until Isla was well again, because, until she recovered, Audrey belonged to her.

The rain continued to rattle down in a seemingly endless deluge. Louis and Cecil rushed back to the Club beneath their umbrellas, both silent, alone with their thoughts. While Cecil worried for Audrey, praying that Isla would be well again in the morning, Louis arrived at the Club disgruntled with frustration. Audrey had barely noticed him. Infuriated that she had treated him with the distance of a stranger he sat in his sodden clothes on the tapestry stool, drunk with misery and alcohol and bashed out his torment on the ivory keys of the piano until his brother and Colonel Blythe were forced to drag him away swearing and lock him in his bedroom.

‘My good fellow,’ said the Colonel to Cecil as they later shared a double whisky in the lounge, ‘what that young man requires is a touch of discipline. The army would have done him the world of good. Made a man out of him. No use crying over a woman. They’re not worth it, mercurial vixens.’ He knocked back his glass and thought of Charlotte Osborne. ‘Mercurial vixens, the bally lot of ’em,’ he said with a snort. Cecil wondered whether Louis had lost his heart to Isla, then as the whisky warmed his spirits he ceased to wonder at all and his thoughts drifted once more to Audrey.