The Forget-Me-Not Sonata(51)

‘He left a note explaining that he couldn’t bear to be in the same country if he couldn’t have her love,’ Cecil explained, his face grim. ‘Louis isn’t like other people,’ he continued earnestly. ‘But he’s a good person. I think he’ll regret leaving and be back. Last night he was distraught. We are all distraught and no one more so than you, Rose, and your family. But as I said, Louis is different. He doesn’t think things through. He’s all feeling and no thought. I told him time would ease his suffering. He can’t cope when things go wrong for him. I feel desperate. Before Isla died I don’t think I’d ever seen him looking so happy and well. He was a very different Louis.’ Cecil looked away and wiped his forehead with a hanky. He felt very strange, as if he were made of air.

‘I so hope he comes back, I really do,’ said Rose. ‘I would dearly love to hear about their friendship. I hate to think there’s a part of my daughter’s life I haven’t shared. Oh, Cecil, do you really think he might come back?’

At that moment Audrey walked in. She too was in her dressing gown with her long curls in disarray about her shoulders and down her back to her waist. Cecil caught his breath because he had never seen her look more beautiful. He was at once energized with determination. But Audrey felt depleted and empty as if someone had sucked out all her insides leaving the wound raw and aching. ‘Who’s gone?’ she asked impassively, wrapping her arms around her body in a subconscious attempt to comfort herself. Cecil hesitated, disarmed by her vulnerability.

‘Did you know that Isla was in love with Louis?’ Rose asked with impatience.

‘Isla in love with Louis?’ Audrey repeated in confusion. ‘No she wasn’t.’

‘Yes, dear, she was. Cecil’s got his note to prove it. Now he’s left us. He told Cecil that he can’t bear to be in the Argentine if she’s not here. What a passionate young man.’

‘Louis has gone?’ she gasped in horror, finding it difficult to breathe. She turned to Cecil in panic.

‘I’m afraid he left this morning,’ he replied. Audrey sat down and dissolved into tears. Cecil wanted to hold her again like he had after the funeral, but he knew such a gesture would be unwelcome.

‘My dear child,’ her mother soothed, reaching out to her. ‘This has come as a terrible shock to us all. A part of Isla none of us knew. I must say, I would have thought she would have confided in you.’ But Audrey was unable to contain her sorrow.

‘Where has he gone?’ she sobbed.

‘England, I think,’ Cecil replied. Then he heard himself saying, ‘I should think he’ll be back when he calms down. He was very overwrought last night. He had also drunk too much. I should imagine he’ll come to his senses when he sobers up. Don’t despair, he’ll be back, I’m sure of it.’ But he was only sure of one thing, that whatever happened now there was no turning back.

Audrey ran upstairs and when she was alone in the bathroom she vomited. How could he leave like that, without even saying goodbye, without at least giving her an explanation? If he loved her, how could he leave her to suffer like this? Then she recalled Cecil’s words and with desperation she clutched the small grain of hope. Perhaps he would come to his senses and return when he realized that she was worth waiting for. When he realized that all was not lost. Then she blamed herself. How could she have been so insensitive to his feelings? After all, he needed her too. She had only been thinking of herself.

‘You see, I was right all along,’ said Charlo happily, studying her cards through her glasses. ‘That Isla was a mischief.’

‘A very dear mischief,’ Diana added, pulling a sympathetic smile.

‘Well, we were all wrong about Louis Forrester,’ said Cynthia. ‘I’m happy to admit when I’m wrong.’

‘Me too,’ interjected Phyllida, fingering her cards nervously. She wasn’t very good at bridge and every time they sat down for a rubber she felt like a fly about to be devoured by three very large lizards. She cringed and blinked down at her own useless hand of cards.

‘Oh, I was never wrong about Louis,’ Charlo retorted. ‘He’s reckless and irresponsible and always will be.’

‘Oh, you twisty turny thing!’ Cynthia objected, placing her deck face down on the table. ‘You said he was mad!’

‘No, Cynthia dear, you said he was mad.’

‘At least I have the decency to admit it, Charlo, you devil. He’s not mad, nor is he callous. He’s a truly romantic figure and there aren’t many of them around nowadays.’ Cynthia snorted at Charlo. Charlo lifted her chin and snorted back.