The Forget-Me-Not Sonata(46)

‘She said that?’ Rose asked in amazement. Suddenly her daughter had transformed in her mind from a fallible human being to a saint or an angel at the very least.

‘Yes, and I mustn’t forget, she also said she wants a big funeral with a lot of wailing and gnashing of teeth.’

‘Really, Audrey!’ said her father in disbelief. It was hardly the moment for jokes.

But Rose pulled a fragile smile and sniffed.

‘Of course she did,’ she said sadly. ‘So like Isla!’





Chapter 9



28th June 1948

News of Isla’s death slashed the community to its very backbone. Few could speak, so consumed with grief were they, and those who could were unable to speak of anything else. Perón’s acquisition of the British-owned railways, fulfilling his promise in his election campaign to diminish foreign influence in the economy, suddenly seemed so unimportant in the midst of this very human tragedy. Her death was so unexpected. Unexpected and unthinkable. The school closed its gates for the day in mourning and everyone filed into the Hurlingham church hall for the afternoon funeral, filling the rows of chairs like black bats. Everyone remembered Isla for her sense of fun and mischief, for her laughter and her own unique magic. Even the Crocodiles remembered only the good in a child who hadn’t had time to be tainted by the temptations of adulthood. She was an innocent and above criticism.

Rose hid her sorrow behind a black veil and led her four weeping children to their pew where they sat staring in awe at the small coffin that was placed beneath the nave under an abundance of white lilies. Isla had always seemed so much taller in life. Henry, who had left his tears behind with his childhood, found them again and made up for the years of restraint by shedding enough for a small puddle. He did his best to comfort his family; after all, one mustn’t forget the living, but he felt hopelessly inadequate beneath the weight of such a heavy loss.

Audrey was numb. She barely felt the legs that carried her, out of habit, up the aisle and settled beneath her seat, one foot over the ankle of the other. She gazed transfixed at the coffin and tried to imagine the irrepressible Isla lying in submission within such a small space. It didn’t seem possible that the girl who had more life in her than an entire family was no longer living. But then she focused her thoughts on the waxy features of her sister as she had lain on her bed in death and knew that however impossible it seemed, Isla was dead. Extinguished. Audrey suddenly felt all alone in the world and she began to cry, as much for herself as for Isla, who couldn’t benefit from anyone’s tears. She was in a far better place, a place where she could leap about with her long, corkscrew hair bouncing in the heavenly winds and her mischievous mouth twisted into an eternal smile. She remembered Isla’s request but was too aware of the congregation to wail out loud.

For Audrey much of the funeral was a blur. She listened to her father read the lesson and watched him fight against the overwhelming urge to break down with an effort that caused his knuckles to turn white as they gripped the sides of the pulpit. Rose’s shoulders shook throughout; Henry had never before looked so vulnerable and she loved him all the more for it. She loved him so much it hurt. The hymns were sung with unsteady, weak voices accompanied by an organ that was played with too much vigour and afterwards the vicar read the prayers before a congregation awed by the volume of their own silence.

Audrey glanced across at Aunt Hilda and Aunt Edna who sat together in the midst of Hilda’s daughters, insipid now to the point of disappearing altogether. Hilda’s mouth was thinner and more bitter than ever; she was obviously blaming the Lord for striking at the heart of her family once again, whereas Edna just sat with her sad face tucked into her chins, remembering her beloved Harry with gratitude and silently praying that he find Isla and look after her wherever they all were.

Audrey didn’t have the courage to glance at the rows behind her. She was sure Cecil and Louis were both there. She had expected to want to be with Louis. But she didn’t. If she couldn’t have Isla then she wanted to be left alone with her thoughts. Louis seemed unimportant. Cecil seemed unimportant too. Isla’s death had taught her a lesson or two about life. Nothing was more important than family.

It was during the final Grace that Audrey noticed Isla’s presence in the church. It came as no surprise. After all, she had said she would come. At first she felt a tingling in her bones, a light fluttering across her skin, the presence of someone so close she could feel the breath on her neck. The blood rushed to her cheeks making them burn with amazement. She hastily glanced around to see if anyone else had noticed. They hadn’t. They were all concentrating on the vicar’s closing prayers. Then she raised her eyes and rested them upon the altar where she intuitively sensed the spirit to be. As hard as she looked she couldn’t see anyone. She bit her lip and tried harder. She knew her sister and what she was capable of. Then as if exasperated by Audrey’s lack of vision the spirit performed a small miracle. Audrey caught her breath and for a long moment she was unable to move. She just stared at the altar, her mouth agape. Finally, without averting her eyes she gently nudged her mother and whispered into her ear. ‘Did you notice, two candles have just gone out on the altar,’ she said, clutching her mother’s hand with hot fingers.