Songbird (20 page)

“That’s
what I’m saying, my dear.  Your marriage was a celebration of your love for
each other and your son was living proof of that love.”

“Are
you suggesting that a child should happen only through married love?”

“Yes,
exactly!”  Her voice rose in anger.  “I’ve come to believe that a child
shouldn’t be made through an arrangement!  Emotions can become too involved.” 
I stared at her, understanding her meaning.  She glanced around.  “Shall we
walk?  We can take the path and I’ll show you my flowerbeds.  You’ve never been
in my garden, have you?  Would you like some strawberries to take home?  I’ve
got too many of them this year.” 

I
didn’t reply, knowing she was too distracted for answers and followed her along
the gravel paths and among the herbaceous borders.  Suddenly we stopped and she
began to deadhead the fuchsias.  I stood quietly, waiting, aware that she
needed to unburden herself. 

“If I
tell you something, will you promise to keep it to yourself?” she finally said.

“Of
course.” 

We
carried on walking. 

“I
had a very distressing time with…Mr Karl whilst you were carrying the child. 
In the early months, he wanted to know your whereabouts, but I refused to
disclose it.  He said that he had to see you, but I stood firm.  I was relieved
when we were on our way to France.”

I stayed
silent for a while, remembering when he had come to Chateau St Julienne and
found me by the lake.  How I had stood there with his arms round me, enjoying
his nearness, his warmth.

“I’m
glad you didn’t give him my address.  It would have made it very awkward for
me.”

“I
know that.  But even after you’d had the child, he wouldn’t leave it be.”

I
nodded.  “I heard you arguing outside the door the day the baby was born.”

“Did
you,” she groaned.  “I caught him sneaking upstairs and had to reprimand him
severely.  If I hadn’t been there to stop him, he would have entered your room
and disturbed you.  And I wasn’t allowing that to happen.”

“I
wonder why he wanted to see me?”

“Because
his feelings for you were far in excess of what they should have been.  Six months
after the baby, he still wanted your address.  I was so concerned that he would
find you and I thanked God that he knew you as Miss Pritchard.  Because if he
had found you it would have had dire consequences for his marriage.”

“Oh,
I would never have jeopardised his marriage,” I said, alarmed.

“You
might not have been able to help yourself.  Not if you had the same feelings
for him.”  She glared at me over gold-rimmed glasses.  I didn’t answer.  “Out
with it, Isabelle.  You loved him as much as he loved you.  Wasn’t that the
case?”

He fell in love
with me!  In the cab on the way home, I kept saying the words over and over to
myself.  But then my heart sank.  It had been five years and he had probably
stopped loving me by now.  He would have moved on with his life.  Did he still
think of me, I wondered.  No matter what he was doing that day, did he
sometimes have to stop as memories of me filled his mind?  Somehow I didn’t
think so.  By the time I arrived home, I felt melancholy.  After losing Daniel
I had resolved never to fall in love again, never put myself through the agony
of loss.  And it had happened despite my determination.  Karl had fallen in
love with me!  He had felt the same way about me as I did about him.  As I paid
the cabby, I realised I was trembling.  How could I surround my heart with a
barricade that would be impossible to breach?  I had asked too much of myself. 
As I went into the house, a feeling of emptiness swept over me and I bit my lip
to fight back the tears.

CHAPTER
TWENTY

A
fter
Carmen
,
it seemed I could do no wrong and over the next twelve months in every opera I
performed, the audience applauded and rose to their feet for a full twenty
minutes.

And
everyday I waited for any letters from Ruth and Gwilym.  They were spasmodic
but were bulky when they did arrive.  We would sit in the kitchen and I would
read aloud to everyone.  They spoke of their voyage down the west coast of
Africa and round the Cape of Good Hope, across the Indian Ocean towards Perth
in Australia and then along the southern edge of Australia to New Zealand. 
Ruth wrote enthusiastically of wanting to see Japan.  She hoped to do a lot of
sightseeing and she couldn’t wait to see a geisha.

I
didn’t visit Mrs Holland again.  Her revelations had disturbed me and I had
thrown myself into my work, trying to forget all the things she had told me. 
But it was difficult.  My little girl liked to sing!  Her father once loved
me!  I often wondered what would have happened if he had discovered my
whereabouts.  Would we have begun an affair?  I thought of his innocent wife
and was filled with shame.

“When are you
going to have supper with me?” said Mr Perry, after the final performance of
The
Tales of Hoffmann
.  He had come to my dressing room almost every night for
the last week to ask me.

“You’re
persistent, I’ll give you that,” I laughed.

“It
doesn’t hurt to ask,” he smiled.

I
watched him through the mirror and saw Martha give him a withering look. 
Thankfully, he didn’t seem to notice.

“I
like to go straight home.”

“I know
you do.  But I thought you would break your strict rules just this once.”

I
felt uncomfortable.  “It’s not exactly a rule.”

“It
seems like it.”

I
felt indignant at his tone.  “All right, I’ll have supper with you tonight.”

He
grinned.  “I knew I’d break down your resistance eventually.  I’ll sort out a
cab while you get ready.”

After
he had raced out of the door, I rested my chin on my hands and stared at myself
in the mirror.  I heard Martha clicking her tongue in disapproval.

“Now
what’s wrong with you?” I asked her irritably.  “It’s only supper.”

“You
shouldn’t have done that Miss Barri.  It’ll be a proposal of marriage next.”

“Nonsense! 
I have no intention of marrying again.”

“That’s
what you say, but one thing can lead to another.”

I
decided to ignore her as she helped me dress. 

“Oh,
I’m so tired,” I said, trying to stifle a yawn.

“You
need a holiday.  Now that the theatre is closing for a week, why don’t you get
yourself away to the coast and breathe some sea air.”

I
smiled and nodded wistfully.

Martha
had been wonderful in the fifteen months that I had played the leading roles at
Covent Garden.  Her motherly advice had been practical and full of common sense
and I knew she was probably right about Andrew Perry.  But that particular
evening I was too tired to heed her warnings.

He
dashed back a short time later and said that a cab was waiting at the door. 
Taking his arm, I allowed him to guide me out of the building.  We kept up a
happy banter on the journey to his club where late night suppers were served
until midnight.  I had never been in a gentlemen’s club before and as I passed
through the huge double doors and made my way across the floor of cream tiles,
I glanced around.The hall was quite impressive with burgundy flock wallpaper
and a wide staircase leading to the next floor. 

“Am I
supposed to be here?” I asked, staring nervously at the austere portraits of
former presidents of the club.  They seemed to be glaring down at me in
complete disapproval.

He
gave an amused smile.  “Would I bring you if you weren’t?  In this
establishment, ladies are allowed in as guests from nine o’clock to midnight
but only in the dining room.”

Through
a half-open door and I could hear the deep tones of male voices, intermingled
with laughter.  I heard the sound of ivory balls clinking together and knew
that some of the gentlemen must be playing billiards.  The place smelt strange,
of cigar smoke and alcohol.  We went into the dining room and were shown to a
table.  Mr Perry pulled out a chair and I sat down and took the menu from the
waiter.

“It’s
very nice,” I whispered, surveying the gold and red décor and marvelling at the
white marble statues that stood in the corners.  They seemed to be of Greek
gods and goddesses in all kinds of poses.  Some of them naked.

“I
often dine here and spend the evening playing cards or billiards.”

Why
did that sound familiar?  I felt too weary to work it out.  I glanced at the
menu and decided on a light supper since I wanted to be able to sleep and it
would be difficult on a full stomach.  I placed my order with the waiter. 

“I’m
thinking of taking a little holiday since the theatre is closing for
refurbishment.  I wondered about the seaside.  Bournemouth perhaps, or even
Eastbourne.  Danny would love it.”

He
reached across and his hand covered mine.  “That’s a good idea.  You’ve worked
extremely hard and you deserve time away from the theatre.”

I
gently removed my hand from under his.  “Thank you for inviting me to your
club.  I feel quite honoured.”

“Only
very special ladies are invited here.”

“Oh,
so who have you invited thus far?” I teased him.  “Miss Ruth Procter or how
about Signora Zuchetti?”

He
raised his eyebrows.  “Neither of them!  And especially not Signora Zuchetti.”

I
couldn’t help laughing.  “No, I didn’t think you would.  Although I’m surprised
you didn’t invite my sister-in-law.  She’s a very attractive girl.”

“She
certainly is, drat her.  I’ll never forgive your brother for whisking her away
from me.”

“She’s
having a wonderful married life aboard a ship bound for God knows where.”

“Has
she reached Japan yet?”

“Oh
yes, long ago.  But I’m not sure where she is now.  The only thing I’m sure of
is that she’s with Gwilym and she’s happy.”

He
took a gulp of wine.  “Have you ever thought of marrying again?” he asked,
watching me over the rim of his wineglass.

I
knew where his question was leading and I felt far too tired to think about it.

“I
firmly believe I’ll never marry again,” I murmured.

The
waiter brought our food and it looked delicious.

“I
think you should consider it.  You’re still young and extremely attractive. 
You certainly turn men’s heads.”  His cheeks flushed slightly with
embarrassment.  I got the impression he wasn’t used to giving personal
compliments.

“I
receive a lot of praise for my performance on stage,” I said lightly.

He
leaned forward in his seat.  “I’m not talking about your performance, although
that’s exceptional.  I mean on a day-to-day basis, as you walk through the
theatre to your dressing room.  Eyes follow you everywhere.”

The
wine was having an affect and I started giggling.  “They’re probably afraid I
might throw something at them like Signora Zuchetti used to do.”

“You’re
one of the best opera divas I’ve had,” he smiled.  “You’re pleasant to everyone
and always have an encouraging word for the girls and boys in the chorus.”

“I
know how they feel,” I laughed, but my heart sank at his next question. 

“How
long have you been widowed?”

“Why
do you ask?”

“Just
curious.”

“A
long while.”

“How
long?”

I
swallowed hard.  “Nine years this Christmas,” I whispered.

He
reached out and his hand covered mine once more.  “I think you should settle
down with a man who can not only help you in your professional life but also be
a companion to you and a father to your son.”

“Are
you talking about yourself?”

He
nodded.  “I’m asking you to marry me, Isabelle.”  I stared at him as the
seconds ticked away.  “You don’t answer.  Do you want time to think it over?”

“I’m
very tired tonight and I’m finding it impossible to think straight.”

His
expression softened.  “Of course you’re tired.  After our supper I’ll take you
home and then you go off on your holiday.  Think about everything I’ve said in
Bournemouth or Eastbourne or wherever you decide to go.  Give me your answer
when you return.”

I was
glad of the breathing space.  A group of men passed the open door of the dining
room and I heard happy laughter followed by a very familiar chuckle drifting on
the air.  I caught my breath and looked towards the hallway.  But they were
gone. 

Danny couldn’t
believe that we were going to spend five days by the sea.  Unfortunately, my
idea of us all going fell on stony ground.  Nan and Diamond were just not
interested.  Diamond wanted to visit her family and Nan had some wedding
commissions to complete before Christmas. 

Full
of excitement, my son and I set off that wonderful, brilliant September morning
from Euston Station en route to Eastbourne.  I had already telegraphed ahead
and booked a room in the Bedford Hotel, recommended by Mrs Haygarth, our
landlady.  She had nodded enthusiastically and assured me that it was a
splendid hotel and situated on the seafront.

Danny
couldn’t sit still on the train.  His enthusiasm was infectious and as we got
nearer to the coast, we were both watching out for the sea.

“There
it is!  There it is!” he yelled and I had to quieten him, not wanting the other
passengers to be disturbed.  But when I looked around I saw they were smiling
too.  “May we paddle, Mama?  May we go straight down to the beach?”

I
brushed the hair from his forehead.  “We must go to the hotel first and leave
our bags.  But then we can paddle.”

From
the station we took a cab and as we pulled up outside the Bedford Hotel I could
see that Mrs Haygarth had advised me well.  It wasn’t a big hotel, but a
modest, family run business and the landlady and landlord, Mr and Mrs Turpin,
greeted us with genuine pleasure.

“Welcome
to Eastbourne, Mrs Asquith.  And your charming son, too,” said Mr Turpin.

“We’ve
given you a very spacious room at the front so you’ll be able to see the sea
from your window,” said Mrs Turpin.

I
smiled in amusement.  They were both as round as a barrel and had moon-shaped
faces that always seemed to shine with delight.  I was to discover through our
holiday, that they couldn’t do enough for their guests and would amble along
fetching extra blankets or serving meals and refreshment in the tastefully
decorated lounge. 

“You’re
just in time for afternoon tea,” said Mrs Turpin, when we came down from our
room after unpacking.  “Dinner is at seven, breakfast at nine and luncheon at
one.  We’re going to place you at a table near the window, then your son can
watch the folk passing as he eats his meals.”

Good,
I thought, that should keep him occupied.

“Do
we have to have tea, Mama?  I thought you said we could go down to the sea.”

Mrs
Turpin bent over and wagged her finger at him.  “Now then, Master Asquith, your
mama will want to catch her breath before venturing out.  Let her have a pot of
tea and I’ll fetch you some lemonade.  The sea’s been there for millions of
years and it’ll still be there while you have your drink.”

Again
I smiled.  A complete stranger had never reprimanded Danny, but he took it
gallantly and nodded in compliance.

I was
glad of the pot of tea and sighed contentedly at the thought of five days doing
absolutely nothing.  Our room was simply decorated with modest furniture, but
quite adequate for our purposes.  As I had hung up our clothes in the huge
wardrobe, I had begun to relax at the thought of walks in the gardens and
strolls along the pier, breathing in the wonderful tangy sea air.  After the
smoke of London, it seemed like heaven.

Danny
pulled me down to the seafront as soon as I had gulped down my last mouthful of
tea.  He just couldn’t wait any longer.  I laughed as I tried holding onto his
hand, but then realising he was too strong for me, I let go and he ran on
ahead.  We were soon on the sand and Danny was tugging off his boots and
socks.  With a quick look around to make sure no one was watching, I pulled off
my boots and stockings and lifted my skirt to the calves.  I stood at the edge
of the water and let the waves roll over my toes, before taking another step so
that the water covered my feet completely.  I dug my toes into the sand.  The
English Channel was chilly despite the hot weather and I shivered with its
coldness.  I looked out to sea and saw a pleasure steamer passing and wondered
where it was going.  Perhaps I ought to find out and we could take a trip
ourselves.  I watched Danny wade a little further out.