The Forget-Me-Not Sonata(55)

‘How does this old girl taste?’ She had giggled like a young girl in the first throes of love.

‘Like a vintage champagne, m’dear, once the cork’s out it’s all bubbles and fizz. There’s life in the old girl yet!’ Then he had looked at her with tenderness and said bashfully, ‘But once the bubbles and fizz die down the wine is full bodied and fruity. I knew you wouldn’t disappoint, Charlotte Osborne. You’re still a challenge and always will be, but by God you were worth the wait.’ And in his ears still echoed the tune he had heard long ago but never forgotten, filling him once again with an exquisite melancholy; the melancholy that is the weight of love on one’s soul.

Spring spilled into the church in the pale light of morning, in the flamboyant displays of lilacs and lilies and in the buoyant step of the old Colonel who, in spite of his limp, strode proudly up the aisle, his whiskers twitching with the satisfaction of a military leader reflecting on his greatest victory, an icily beautiful Charlotte Osborne resting haughtily on his arm.

Diana Lewis cast her eyes over the perfectly tailored lilac suit, the wide-brimmed hat coyly lowered over one eye, the silver white hair pulled back into an elegant chignon and couldn’t help but admire her friend, who in the autumn years of her life had acquired a handsome beauty. If it wasn’t for her thin lips, she thought, one would be led into thinking her beauty extended beneath her skin. Phyllida Bates sat hunched and shrivelled for her lack of spine had caused her body to sag. She hated weddings because she had never married, but she smiled all the same and no one would have guessed that there was venom in her saliva. Cynthia Klein, who was too lazy to dissemble, gazed upon the old couple who now stood before the altar to make their vows to love and cherish one another and wondered whether Charlo was capable of doing either. Still, she couldn’t help but feel a certain tenderness towards them as they stood, aged and grey beneath their fine feathers, vulnerable somehow in the face of God, making the most of the few years they had left.

‘Till death us do part,’ said Charlo in a quivering voice and Diana caught Phyllida’s eye, then glanced warily across at Cynthia. They were all thinking the same thing. How long would the Colonel last before he met his Maker? But since Isla’s death Charlo had looked at life through different eyes. The final act was now opening to great applause. This leading man would take the bow with her, not before her.

Audrey sat next to her husband and cast her thoughts to her sister as she always did every time she attended church. She remembered the funeral as if it were yesterday and she missed her just as much now. Although the pain was less acute it was still very much there in the form of a constant, dull ache. She missed Louis too, but had resigned herself to the choice she had made and Cecil was a loving husband. She couldn’t complain.

Since Audrey’s marriage the previous April her mother had come out of mourning and laughter once more reverberated about the walls of the house in Canning Street, though the little spark that was Isla was noticeably lacking. The wedding had been large and extravagant and her mother had thrown herself into its organization with all her energy and enthusiasm. Aunt Edna had almost moved in and acted as secretary, making lists and amending them, holding meetings with the florist, the caterers, the dressmaker and Audrey had sailed along on automatic pilot not caring that all the decisions were being made for her. She relinquished control as willingly as she had relinquished her heart, but her soul would always belong to Louis.

Cecil had bought a little house a few streets away from the Garnets’ and Audrey had done her utmost to make it into a warm home. It was of vital importance to her that she create a small fortress where she could hide away and live off her memories, so she busied herself decorating it, throwing all her love into the rooms until they vibrated with the force of her yearning spirit. She placed her piano in the sitting room and covered it with candles so that when she played at night, the soft, flickering light of the flames served to calm her nerves as well as transport her to a place far away where she still kept her dreams all shiny and new. Rose said it had a magic feel about it and Cecil praised his wife for she had endowed the house with charm and made it beautiful. Only Aunt Edna sensed that her niece had compromised in some way, for she went about the fine tuning of her home with the devotion she should have been dedicating to her marriage. She had done the same thing after Harry had died in order to comfort herself and nurture his memory, but Cecil was very much alive.

As Charlotte and the Colonel walked back up the aisle as man and wife, their faces aglow with happiness, Audrey pulled away from the past and cast her eyes across to where the light tumbled in through the large glass window. She followed its stream until her gaze rested upon the face of Emma Letton who silently withdrew from beneath the sycamore tree to focus her eyes on the dreamy young woman who now stared back at her. They both remained in silent appraisal, wordlessly sensing an invisible bond that drew them to one another. Audrey smiled shyly and was pleased when Emma smiled back with enthusiasm. There had always been something in the young girl’s expression that Emma had found curious. She had been slightly afraid of the sensitive child who seemed to understand her in a way that no one else could, as if her penetrating stare would expose her inner unhappiness and the compromise she had made.