The Forget-Me-Not Sonata(54)

‘What are you thinking about?’ Cecil asked, taking her hand in his. He often wondered what was on her mind, especially when he listened to her playing the piano. Recently, though, the tunes had become less tormented and more harmonious and so had she.

‘Isla and I used to sit on this Uruguayan beach and watch the sunset,’ she replied. Nowadays she didn’t flinch when Cecil took her hand. Ever since he had embraced her in the garden at Isla’s funeral she had grown accustomed to his touch, even welcomed it. He had been a constant support, an attentive friend. With Cecil there was no pressure, no demand, just his gentle companionship. She held his hand firmly and took pleasure from the familiar warmth of his skin. ‘Isla was never very interested in nature, but she always waited for the hiss and the steam of the sun hitting the water. She used to swear that she heard it. I always felt cheated because I never did.’

‘She was a little mischief,’ he chuckled affectionately.

‘Not a day goes by when I don’t think about her. We did everything together, everything. I really miss her.’

‘Of course you do.’

‘But I’ve come to rely on you, Cecil,’ she said earnestly.

Cecil stared out across the sea, afraid of looking at her in case the desperation in his eyes gave away the longing in his heart. ‘Good,’ he mumbled.

‘One good thing has come out of all this tragedy and that is you.’ She smiled at him but the smile he returned was fleeting. He kept his focus on the horizon but his hand clutched hers ever more tightly. ‘I felt lost without Isla, but little by little I turned to you when I would have turned to her. Your friendship means a great deal to me.’

‘I’m pleased.’

‘I couldn’t bear to think about a future without Isla. I didn’t want to live. Everything was so bleak, but you’ve made it sunny again. I know it’s been over two years since you proposed and as you promised, you haven’t mentioned it again. I hope I’m not being too bold or presumptuous, but I would like to be your wife, if you’ll have me.’

Cecil wanted to cry with relief. Every day of waiting for Audrey had increased the burden of hope on his shoulders so that now he almost stooped beneath the weight. He had begun to wonder whether she would ever grow to love him even half as much as he loved her. His feelings had only intensified with time so that now he couldn’t imagine living without her and if he did, he felt the blood in his veins turn to stone. A cold and empty future indeed. Now all the waiting seemed to have passed in a moment. She had agreed to be his and his heart felt as if it were filled with bubbles. He turned to her with eyes that glistened with emotion and smiled with so much enthusiasm it was impossible not to smile with him. ‘I never thought I’d be capable of loving as much as I love you, Audrey. You’re a unique woman and I’m honoured that you have chosen to share your life with me. Honoured, truly.’

Audrey laughed lightly. He always sounded so formal. ‘No, I’m honoured that you will still have me. I’ve kept you waiting so long.’

‘I would have waited for you for ever,’ he said, looking at her steadily. She lowered her eyes anxiously anticipating his kiss, trying not to think of Louis. Every morning she awoke with his face emblazoned on her mind, and every morning she willed it away where it hovered awaiting its chance to rise again in her thoughts. She felt sick in the stomach with wearisome regularity so that now she didn’t know whether it was because of Isla or Louis – whichever it was, the sharp sense of loss never left her. Her only hope of respite was in a secure future and in time Cecil could give her the former and patience would give her the latter. Then one day she might wake up without that sensation of falling into an abyss, without the bitter dawning of reality and what it lacked.

When Cecil kissed her it was surprisingly pleasant. It didn’t burn like Louis’ always had but it didn’t feel awkward either. It was warm and tender and protective. She wrapped her arms around his neck and felt a reassuring sense of security loosen the knots that misery and regret had tied with determined fingers. With Cecil she had a future, perhaps not the future she had dreamed of, but she was weary of dreaming.





Chapter 11



Charlotte Osborne insisted on a church wedding. Not that she was a virgin bride, she was the first to admit that she was no virgin, having buried three husbands already. But she felt, being a widow, it was correct and proper to have a small, intimate religious service followed by a large tea at the Club. She wanted flowers, champagne, pomp and adulation. The Colonel would have married her on the moon had she asked, for, overwhelmed with gratitude, he could deny her nothing. His dogged persistence had won the final battle and Charlotte had surrendered, waving her white flag with the enthusiasm of a woman who’s wanted to be conquered all along. ‘Now come here, old girl, and let me kiss you,’ he had said, pulling her into his arms and tickling her face with his whiskers.