The Fleeting Years Page 12

  ‘The most important thing we have to do, forgetting who travels when,’ she said in a voice that told him she didn’t think the suggestion deserved consideration, ‘is to make sure we get to the solicitor to sign that power of attorney so that my signature alone will always be sufficient. You haven’t even called them back to find out about the appointment.’

  ‘OK, OK, we’ll look in while we’re in town. Leave it to me, I’ll persuade the girl on reception to slip us in between appointments,’ he said, briefly turning to look at her with that laughing twinkle in his eyes that seldom failed him. Then more seriously, he added, ‘But about the kids, don’t you see that if they stay with Hermann’s two they’ll have ready-made companions. They can start school with them when the time comes.’

  She could picture it all so clearly, just as she could picture herself watching while the agent brought people to look around the house, opening cupboards, standing by the windows deciding if they liked the far views from the back of the building, whispering to each other, making her feel an outsider in her own home. And then driving away to be heard of no more, while she was left to wait for the next batch to be brought and the next after that, each looking at beloved Newton House with a critical eye, trying to find faults that would give leverage on the price if, indeed, they were interested enough to go that far.

  ‘Talk about treating them like luggage!’ she snapped, trying to disguise her own feeling of emptiness. All of them would be gone, only she would be there to watch the breaking up of their home, see the furniture carried away, furniture they had chosen with pride and loved for all the years they’d been there. She wouldn’t let herself consider that in any case the children would be back at St Mary’s long before that was likely to happen so inevitably she would be on her own. But they would be there on the other end of the telephone. They would be only a few miles away and not far beyond all the miles of a great ocean and continent.

  She imagined her final days of being at Newton House. She could almost hear the heavy tread of the removal men as they carried each item out to be taken to the salerooms. Was this progress? Was this the fulfilment of Peter’s ambition? She thought of their long-ago excitement as they’d attended house sales, buying the pieces that had fitted so well into Newton House. For them it had been the beginning of the realization of their dreams. The only new furniture they had bought had been for the twins when they had been given separate rooms; down the stairs those two identical suites would be carried, out of the house and out of their lives. Then would come everything from their own bedroom, surely the backdrop for the very core of their union. The beautiful genuine Georgian furniture would be carried from the dining room, and from the kitchen the board where she used to pin the artistic offerings from the baby school. All of it would be loaded in the waiting vans. Her expression gave nothing away, she mustn’t allow anyone, least of all Peter, to guess how she dreaded the coming weeks or more likely months. Once the house was empty, her footsteps would echo as she walked from room to room for the last time, she alone would go through the heavy front door and close it on all their years.

  ‘They’d be much better coming with me.’ Peter was speaking seriously. ‘Imagine what it would be like for them back at school here, not knowing how long before they got uprooted. Zina, if there’s a good alternative we ought to take it. They may think themselves almost grown up but the truth is they are only children and more than anything what they need is security. Coming with me would lift them right out of the sale of the house, the disruption of everything they’ve known. Don’t you think we owe it to them to accept Heila’s offer? Boarding school is no place for them while their home is being torn apart.’ She knew what she ought to say, but the idea was too new to her. ‘Say something, Zee. This is the beginning of the rest of our lives; we’ve got to do it as smoothly as we can, not add more heartache than there is bound to be anyway. Imagine when their summer holiday ends, think how they’d feel being driven away knowing things would never be the same. If they come with me they won’t have a chance to be miserable, they’ll be starting out on the adventure.’

  ‘Bully for you!’ she growled.

  Taking his hand off the steering wheel he reached to take hold of hers.

  ‘Truly, truly I’m sorry darling that you’re not coming right from the beginning. How about I phone you every day? Will that help? But about the kids, don’t you see the logic?’

  ‘Yes I do. I do because I know what the upheaval will be whether it’s when they’re at home or when they’re at school. I can see it’s much kinder for them to have a quick move from one life to the other.’ Then after a brief pause and using all the courage she could muster, she finally said, ‘All right, I agree for them to fly with you. But on one condition: we don’t just give it to them, cut and dried. You can talk to them; you know the Zeiglars, I don’t. Then, Peter, it has to be for them to make their own decision. I don’t want them to feel forced out of the nest before the nest gets thrown out of the tree.’

  ‘Good girl. Oh hell, Zina, why couldn’t it have worked out so that we could have all set off together. I wish things would get moving. I can’t imagine anyone not wanting our house.’ His hand was still holding hers, and now she raised it to hold it against her lips.

  It was nearly two hours later, the solicitor been seen and the forms signed just as Peter had anticipated, the boxes of toys and piles of clothes handed in to a shop in aid of Dr Barnardo’s Home, when with his usual squeal of brakes Peter drew to a halt at the front door of Newton House.

  The music room window was open and they could hear the sound of the piano. It might be said that Tom was doing his practice, but that was only half of it. Tom had been playing for most of the time they had been out, not because it was his daily time for practice but because it was a pleasure. In fact he would have been surprised to learn how long he’d been up there and it was lucky that Fiona had been happily reading aloud from a book of plays she’d found on a shelf, casting herself in the lead role but changing her voice to suit each character. For her too the time had slipped by unnoticed.

  ‘It sounds as though there’s a visitor,’ Peter said, glancing towards the window of the music room.

  ‘If you took a little more interest you would know without having to be told. That’s Tom playing.’ They both stood still, listening. ‘Now perhaps you can understand why Maurice Messer has been hopeful of Tom being accepted into the music school. He works hard, and loves every moment of it. That’s a rare thing for children, the average have to be chased off to do their practice each day, but not Tom. It’s study and recreation rolled into one. He started late by professional standards and have we the right now to take him away from something that is so important to him?’

  ‘The United States has plenty of fine orchestras, and I promise you if it means so much to the kid we’ll find him a teacher even if he can’t learn at school. But from where I stand I wouldn’t mind betting if he never has another lesson he’s learnt enough to play and enjoy it.’ Then he added with a teasing half wink, ‘If you like that kind of music.’

  Looking up at the open window and listening to her beloved Tom, Zina found nothing to smile about in the remark.

  It was after a quick and cold lunch that she told the twins. ‘Your father has a proposition to put to you. But before he does, I want you both to understand that neither of us is going to persuade you one way or the other. You must be free to make the choice.’ Quite naturally she said ‘choice’ not ‘choices’, sure that whatever they decided nothing would separate them. ‘You don’t have to give an answer straight away, you can go off and talk about it together first.’

  So Peter put the suggestion to them exactly as earlier on he had to Zina, confident of what their answer would be. Tom’s expression told him nothing, and Fiona’s everything.

  ‘Think about it,’ Zina started, ‘go and talk by yourselves if you want to. If you decide you like th—’

  ‘But of course we do, Mum,’ Fiona inter
rupted. ‘Gosh, just think, we shan’t have to waste our time going back to school here, instead it won’t be just you, Dad, who has the excitement. Except for poor old Mum, we shall all be on our way. And fancy us actually going to live in a house belonging to Hermann Zeiglar.’ Then, with an excited giggle that refused to be held back, she said, ‘I wish we’d known before we broke up. Would have been lovely to have told everyone. Still, never mind. We shan’t see any of that lot any more. Gosh, Tom, can you believe it?’

  Peter was watching her with an indulgent smile. But Zina was watching Tom, who sat silently and avoided looking directly at any of them.

  ‘Well, that’s one travelling companion for you, Peter. And how about you, Tom?’ Zina prompted him. ‘I expect you want time to think about it.’

  At that, Fiona looked at her in genuine surprise.

  ‘Of course we’ll go together.’ Her tone telling them that she was amazed her mother could be questioning it. ‘I expect they want to hear you say it, Tom. Tell them and keep them happy,’ she ended with a giggle which was no more than an expression of her excitement.

  ‘I’ll wait till Mum comes.’ His words weren’t as clear as he meant them to be, but it’s hard to talk when you have to bite hard on the corners of your mouth to keep it from wobbling.

  ‘Don’t be daft.’ Fiona was used to taking the lead and she knew Tom well enough to realize he would find it hard to let his head rule his heart. ‘That might not be for ages. Gran says that even when that agent finds a family who want to buy the house it still takes ever so long. Not like buying a bag of sugar, that’s what she said.’

  It was unusual for Tom to glare at his twin as he did now, but anger was easier to cope with than the misery that threatened to overwhelm him.

  ‘I’m not going to clear off and leave Mum.’ Then misery getting the upper hand, as he added, ‘I don’t see what we have to go at all for. We were all right here. We liked it, didn’t we? All of us?’ He closed his eyes as if that way he could hold back the tears. He was thirteen years old; he mustn’t let them know how hard it was not to cry.

  ‘Every day of it, old chap,’ Peter answered, his perception surprising Zina. ‘But we blokes sometimes don’t have much choice once we have a career and a family to be responsible for. A few more years and you’ll find that out for yourself. But if you stay back and come out with your mother that will take a weight off my mind.’

  Zina’s expression told him more than any words.

  ‘But Dad, that’s stupid.’ Even if they hadn’t been able to see the scowl on Fiona’s face they would have heard it in her voice. ‘He won’t even be here, he’ll be back at St Mary’s only a few weeks after you and I go.’ Then to Tom: ‘What help do you think it will be to Mum once you go back to school?’

  But the argument had put mettle back into Tom and his voice was as clear and strong as hers as he answered, ‘I shall be in the same country, we can talk on the phone because it will be the same time of day for both of us. You’ll be hours and hours behind, so many hours that it … it … sort of puts you out of reach.’

  Between the twins the argument went on as they went outside to start sorting their things in the shed. And that’s where they were when the phone rang.

  ‘Call him in, Peter. Let’s tell him.’

  ‘It’s not like you, my love, to rush headlong without thought.’ And in that Peter was right. Usually it was she who lived with one foot hovering over the brake.

  ‘This is different. Peter, this is the chance he has dreamed of, a chance I would have dreamed of at his age so I understand just how he feels. Didn’t you see at lunch just how upset he was? He clung to the thought that he wants to stay behind on my account, but that’s only because he must have been frightened to tempt fate by letting himself imagine anything as wonderful as this. When Mr Messer took him for an interview, he said – Maurice Messer said, I mean – how well everything had gone and how well he had played. I knew he was hopeful but then there must be dozens of young hopefuls out there, some will be accepted and some won’t. I could hardly get a word out of Tommy about it and would have thought it had been a flop if Maurice Messer hadn’t said how well he had played.’

  ‘Should we be glad or sorry, though? Staying behind to travel with you is one thing, this is quite another. I’d worry less if it were Fiona, although God perish the thought. But Tom – well, can you imagine him? Surrounded by strangers, all of us thousands of miles away. Damn it, Zee, wouldn’t it be kinder to refuse the place?’

  ‘It would be unforgivable.’

  And so together they went out to the shed, where the twins were sorting the long forgotten treasures of their early childhood.

  ‘Mind you don’t break that, you great lump,’ they heard Tom say as they came within earshot, ‘some little kid will like it.’ They saw that he was sorting out old shrimping nets which ought to have been thrown away years ago, while Fiona was on a wooden rocking horse they’d shared in their early years.

  ‘Take care of your hands, Tommy,’ Zina called as their shadow fell across the two inside, ‘they belong to a great musician of the future.’

  He looked up from what he was doing, his mouth felt suddenly dry. Was she just pulling his leg or was she telling him that they’d heard he had a place? He seemed to have lost the ability to speak.

  ‘Mr Messer phoned.’ Peter put him out of his misery. ‘It seems you impressed them very favourably at the college so they are offering you a place.’

  Fiona was looking from one to the other, suddenly frightened. Before they had known anything about going to California she had accepted that if Tom were offered a place at the music school it would mean his leaving St Mary’s. But this was something quite different; he wouldn’t even be coming with them to their new Hollywood home. Not for the first time she hated the hold his music had on him. All the time they’d been at St Mary’s it had always come before anything else, but she had been sure that once they were away from wretched Mr Messer, as she thought of Tom’s champion, he would be hers just like he used to be.

  ‘But that’s no good now, Tom.’ Stripped of any chance of hiding her fear, Fiona stood up from the horse and tried to will Tom to meet her gaze. All her life she had been able to bend his will to her own and never had it been more important than this. ‘We’re not going to be living in England any longer, so you’ll have to turn it down.’

  All Tom seemed capable of saying was ‘Gosh … gosh …’

  ‘This must be your own decision, Tom,’ Peter said in a man-to-man voice. ‘As Fiona says, it will mean you are left behind when it’s time for your mother to join us in California. No chance to get home for half-term breaks or occasional weekends. There must be other students from overseas, so I assume someone would see you through the airport when you came for holidays.’

  Listening to Peter, the reality hit Zina. If only this idea of all moving to America hadn’t happened! It wasn’t the first time she had thought it; it was an unacknowledged background to her mind much of each day. Packing up their old items to distribute amongst the fundraisers of one sort or another brought back so many memories. Yet to look ahead, what was there? She pulled her mind back to Tom and went into the shed where he seemed incapable of saying anything other than his original ‘gosh … gosh’. Hugging him she spoke softly, just to him, and remembering what he’d said about music being something the two of them shared.

  ‘You’re doing so well, Tom. So proud of you.’

  Her words helped him marshal his wits.

  ‘Dad, you won’t mind if I don’t come with you? It’s not that I didn’t see it as a great chance and all that, but, gosh, I’ve been frightened even to let myself start to imagine I’d actually get a place.’

  ‘Your mother will tell you that what you two get up to isn’t my scene. But, Tom, I’m proud, yes, I’m extremely proud. You’ve worked hard and you deserve your place.’

  For Tom that was too much. Praise from his mother he could take just as he could from Mr Messe
r, they were knowledgeably assessing his progress, but he’d never expected to hear it from his father. He took from his pocket a handkerchief that was evidence he had been taking the dirt off an old bicycle, then turned away from them on the pretext of blowing his nose while he managed to rub his eyes at the same time, hoping no one noticed.

  ‘I bet there are places just the same in America,’ Fiona said. ‘If there aren’t, how do you think they train people?’

  No one answered her directly, but after a pause Peter held his hand in her direction as he said, ‘Well, young lady, it seems that you and I have to do the honours for the Marchand family in the New World. Think we can manage?’

  ‘You bet we can, Dad. They’ll wonder what’s hit them. And we have to find a house too. It’ll be up to us to choose it.’ Fiona was ready to move on.

  ‘I’ll go and phone Gran, shall I? She’ll be chuffed as anything.’ Tom’s effort at clearing out the shed was short-lived. ‘And I bet she’ll be glad one of us won’t be going to America. She’s never said but she must be awfully sad that we’re shifting off. With us gone from here she’ll be all by herself. I could go to her if I get weekends or short times off, couldn’t I? She’d like that.’ But when he dialled her number, even though he let the phone ring for ages in case she was in the garden, there was no reply.

  Later in the afternoon, when he considered she’d had time to get home even if she’d been as far as Exeter, he decided to cycle to Myddlesham to tell his news in person.

  ‘She may be somewhere for the whole day,’ Zina warned him, trying not to imagine where that day might be spent.

  ‘Don’t worry. If she hasn’t got home I’ll put a note through the door. You know me, Mum, always a man for belt and braces, just in case. So I’ve got a piece of paper and a biro in my pocket.’

  The miles between the two houses were soon covered, spurred on as he was by the message he was taking. But some of his anticipation ebbed when he saw a car in the drive of her house. He hadn’t considered there might be a visitor. When she didn’t answer the front door he walked down the side path to find her in the garden.