When Barley the golden retriever bounded into the drawing room Audrey was sitting on the sofa with Leonora listening to Alicia playing the ‘Moonlight Sonata’. ‘Goodness me!’ exclaimed Aunt Cicely. ‘Don’t you play beautifully.’ Alicia grimaced. She hated it when people interrupted her. But because she didn’t know Aunt Cicely all that well yet, she forced a smile and continued to play even though they all began to talk over her. ‘Darling Barley’s going to be fine. Nothing wrong with him at all. In fact, he’s never been fitter. Must have eaten something nasty on the farm.’ Barley sniffed at Leonora’s feet then, without any warning, sat in front of her and placed his two large paws on her lap.
‘Oh, Mummy, look!’ she gasped in delight and rubbed his ears. ‘Isn’t he sweet.’ Alicia hit the pedal with her foot and played the notes as loudly as she could.
‘He’s adorable,’ Audrey replied, running her hand down his yellow back. ‘He’s got curly hair just like Alicia.’ At that Alicia gave up playing and wandered over to pat the dog.
‘He has got hair just like me, hasn’t he?’ she said, feeling better now that she was the centre of attention. ‘I want him to put his paws on my knees,’ she whined, pulling the dog away from her sister and dragging him over to the other sofa. Leonora didn’t protest and Audrey simply watched with an indulgent smile on her face. Alicia sat down and commanded him to sit, which he did without any fuss and after a bit of stroking he flopped his furry feet onto her lap and proceeded to pant at her with his sweet doggie breath. Cicely raised her eyebrows, surprised that Audrey let her daughter get away with such capriciousness. There was something very disagreeable about Alicia. Cicely hoped her arrogance would be knocked out of her at Colehurst House.
It was especially dark in the countryside at night. No streetlights to illuminate the rooms, to creep through the gaps in the curtains and sketch reassuring streaks of gold across the floor and wall. It was a thick and heavy blackness that obliterated everything so that Audrey was left alone with her thoughts and a suffocating loneliness that frightened her. Unable to sleep in a house which still reverberated with echoes of Louis’ presence she switched on the light and sat up in bed, breathing sharp, shallow breaths. Leonora and Alicia were sharing a bedroom down the corridor. She hoped they weren’t alarmed by the darkness. Cicely had turned off all the lights when they went to bed in order not to waste electricity. ‘I have to cut costs wherever I can or lose the house to some vulgar millionaire with more money than taste,’ she had said. But Audrey was anxious for Leonora who was likely to mind and suffer in silence, so she sneaked across the floorboards towards the twins’ room, cringing as every time her foot landed a loud creak cried out in protest and threatened to wake the whole house. There were so many rooms and each door looked the same. Unsure of which one belonged to her daughters she lingered sweating in deliberation, her eyes jumping from one to the other, afraid of waking Cicely or Marcel by mistake. Finally she gave up and tiptoed back towards her room. But then another idea struck her. The light from her own room illuminated the stairs, which led into the hall and drawing room where the photograph of Louis whispered to her from the piano. She wouldn’t have to play, she could just pretend. She could close her eyes and imagine. She would feel close to him and her loneliness wouldn’t hurt her any more. It would be a temporary relief.
With an aching nostalgia she was reminded of those times she would steal down the stairs at her parents’ house in Canning Street to drive off to Palermo with Louis. So many secrets, she thought, no one would imagine it of her. She walked at the very edge of the steps so that the yawning floorboards made less noise. She hadn’t noticed their squeaking during the day. There was just enough light to enable her to find her way to the drawing room and when she reached the photograph she could just make out his features. She picked it up and ran her thumb over the glass. In the silence of the night she recalled their dancing and their dreaming, their loving and their laughter before Isla had died and the fantasy had shattered. They had been so happy and they had believed such happiness would last forever. It could have. If only she had been braver, stronger, more courageous. Instead she had been tested and failed. She didn’t deserve him. After all those years with Cecil, Cecil who was good and kind, gentle and generous, she now resigned herself to the fact that she had made a terrible mistake. The thought of spending the rest of her life with a man she didn’t love, whom she had never really loved, was like renouncing one’s soul to a long winter. There was nothing she could do. She had to live with her choice and be reminded at every step of her misjudgement. But without her children what was there to live for? She threw her mind across the waters to the sunny streets of her home and yet, without love, they were bare streets and an icy wind rattled through the large and empty spaces.