The Fleeting Years Page 6

  That special day Peter’s visit was brief, he’d come simply to see the children into school and, after that, wouldn’t be going back to the house as he had to be on the set early the next morning. With two the same age it was rare for either parent to be able to concentrate just on one of them and on that drive to St Mary’s he heard Fiona’s plans for the future.

  ‘When we get there, Dad, I expect there will be other new people arriving like us. I bet you there won’t be anyone else with a dad everybody will recognize. Do you mind when strangers know who you are?’ Then, with a chuckle, she said, ‘I bet you like it really; I know I would.’ And before he had time to consider her question and answer it, she went on, ‘Do you know what I want to do – well, I really mean what I’m going to do, because nothing is going to stop me? I’m going to be famous like you. I’m going to be a really top-line actress. I’ll be in films because that way you get more people to see you and hear you than if you are just in the theatre.’

  For her this journey alone with him was a wonderful opportunity to confide her dreams knowing he would give her his uninterrupted attention and sure that he would understand.

  ‘It’s not all fun and glamour, you know,’ he warned her, speaking as he might to an adult and adding to her feeling of importance, just as he intended. In fact he expected that before the time came for her to consider her future seriously she would have changed her mind many times; she was far too young to know what opportunities might tempt her in a direction different from that which he had followed, but he never talked down to either of the twins. ‘Tomorrow morning while you are still cosily cuddled up in bed, I shall be up at five o’clock so that I can be ready for a long day’s work starting about six o’clock in the make-up department. To be honest, life was a good deal easier when I was in the rep company. Not much money in my pocket and, often, not very comfortable digs, but by the beginning of each tour we’d learnt our roles and rehearsed the six plays we were putting on for that season and that was that. Just one show a night, each play was performed for a week and at the end of the six-week stint on we went to our next town. Film work is tiring because it is so repetitive. We can spend a whole day getting a short scene right and it can be the very devil to make each retake sound fresh and genuine.’

  ‘Yes, Dad, but it’s worth it. It must make you feel tall as a giant when you think that everybody, everybody, knows who you are. It’s going to be like that for me. “Set yer mind on summut m’duckie, and work at it, then sure as eggs is eggs you’ll get where you wanna be.”’

  At her impersonation of Mrs Cripps, Peter laughed. Even so, he was impressed and gave her a quick look of appreci-ation. If she grew up as lovely as she promised, and with the ability he was sure she possessed, she might indeed be a star of the future.

  ‘For a moment I thought we’d brought Mrs C with us. You’ve told her all about it, then?’

  ‘I talk to her a lot. I like to listen to her. It gives me a chance to copy her voice. The trouble is that everyone else I know all speak the same, but listening to her you can almost seem to see the – the sort of homeliness of her – sort of warm and giving.’

  He reached his hand and took hers for a moment. What a remarkable child she was. With her sort of perception, and if she didn’t change her mind in the meantime, the acting profession would find a treasure in her.

  ‘Will you be able to get home for our half term, Dad? Please, please try.’

  ‘I imagine I’ll be there. We’re almost at the end of shooting, then I shall be what the profession likes to call “resting”. I hope it lasts for a few weeks, although with your mother fiddling her way around the country I shall wish I’d never been persuaded to send you two off to school.’ He knew it was far from the truth and it had been he who had wanted them to start at boarding school just as he had himself, but in that moment the most important thing to him was to tighten the bond that had always existed between him and each of the children.

  ‘You mustn’t be sad about us, Dad,’ Fiona assured him in what he’d always thought of as her ‘maiden aunt’ voice. ‘I’ll look after Tommy if he gets homesick, honestly I will. And I’ll be all right. I’m actually looking forward to it.’

  And when he raised his left hand in her direction she clasped it in both hers and planted a kiss on it.

  The twins both managed to bid their parents farewell with no outward sign of what they may have been feeling. Fiona, as always, was keen to take the next step towards maturity and Tommy, not quite man enough to look either parent in the eye, managed to follow her example as they were led away by one of the prefects on duty to see the new intake of pupils safely installed.

  As they disappeared from view Peter turned to Zina.

  ‘The end of an era. Well, my professional wife, I should say good luck to you and tell you I hope you’ll be as happy playing that confounded instrument as you expect. And of course I want you to be happy. But I want to be the one to make you happy, not some merry band of music makers. I love you, Mrs Marchand. Don’t forget me in this new life you are intent on making.’ There was nothing loving in his tone.

  ‘Please Peter, don’t say it like that. It will make no difference to us. I’ll probably always be at home when you come back. Mostly the concerts are in the west region so I shan’t stay away overnight.’

  He raised his eyebrow in that exaggerated way she never felt was completely genuine.

  ‘Be home by bedtime, will you my dear, to make sure I’m not deprived?’ If only he could have said it with a note of teasing humour in his voice, but his tone was cold.

  ‘Don’t, Peter. Not here, not now.’

  He leant forward and lightly kissed her brow, then turned and climbed into that racy car the children so loved. Without another glance he started the engine and drove away while she turned back into the building to find where she had to make arrangements for Tommy’s violin lessons.

  That done, there was no sign of the children. It seemed they had already been spirited into their new and strange life. She went out to the waiting Volvo and, with one look back to the building in case either of them was watching from a window, she got in and switched on the engine. She needed to drive, to concentrate on the road, anything to take her mind from things she was frightened to face. Her comfort came from the knowledge that she had arranged violin lessons for Tommy.

  But what about Peter? As she drove, perhaps she wasn’t even aware how much she clung to resentment against him as a shield to protect her from misery over parting with the twins.

  As Peter travelled further and further from her he wanted more than anything to turn back. The four of them had always been a close family unit. Now the house, which had given them such pride when first he had been able to buy it, would more often than not be empty. If in his heart he knew he was exaggerating and in truth Zina would be there far more than she was away, he preferred to see it from his own angle. Where had they gone wrong, or was the honest truth that she had never been fulfilled in her marriage? Had he failed her? No, damn it, of course he hadn’t. He’d never understood what she saw in ‘her sort of music’. Just imagine a couple of violins, a viola and a cello, with a piano tinkling in the background! And she wanted to be part of that ‘glorious sound’, as she called it, said it was magic. Certainly not how he thought of it. ‘There’s magic and there’s magic’ he could almost hear her saying it. Oh damn it, Zee, I thought it was all so good. How long have you been craving after this other world of yours while I believed I was the centre of your universe? That’s what hurts. I thought I had all of you and now I find there is part that I can never possess, can never even share. He felt the sting of tears, not the sort of tears he could produce when he threw himself into the emotion of a scene, but tears that ached in the back of his throat and made him bite the corners of his mouth as his vision blurred.

  I love you, Mrs Marchand, he had said, as he had through the years and always she had answered ‘and I love you, Mr Marchand’. But not today. Back in that
empty house would she think of him? Would she long to have him there with her? Would she, hell! She’d be up there in that music room practising some bloody quintet as if the world depended on it.

  But, in that, he was wrong. When Zina arrived home dreading the emptiness she would find waiting for her, she saw Jenny and Jacques on the garden seat and Celia sitting cross-legged on the grass looking as much at ease in the position as a child would have been. Yet Peter was still at the front of her mind. By now he would be halfway back to the set. I love you, Mrs Marchand, he had said. Why hadn’t she given him the answer he expected? Why had she let angry misery stand in the way? Looking at the three people waiting for her she was ashamed.

  Three

  With the suppleness of a child, and quite out of keeping with her general appearance, Celia was on her feet and coming to meet Zina.

  ‘Tell us if you’d rather be on your own,’ she said as she came close. ‘How were they when you left them?’

  ‘Fine.’

  She heard the brittle note in Zina’s voice. Were they being insensitive or helpful in wanting to give her support when perhaps she would rather be by herself to face emotions she probably hadn’t been prepared for? With no children of her own Celia tried to put herself in Zina’s place, at the same time cursing the claim the film studio had on Peter when surely this would be an evening he and Zina should have been able to share. ‘Peter had said that he wouldn’t have a chance to come home with you,’ she explained even though she was only repeating what they all knew, ‘and we didn’t like to think of your being by yourself.’

  ‘Even when they were at the baby school more often than not I rattled around by myself in an empty house.’ Even if Celia took her words at face value Zina was uncomfortably aware of her lack of gratitude for their care and tried to make amends. So she went back to the question of the twins and answered with honesty. ‘I don’t think we need worry too much about them,’ she said as they joined the other two waiting in the shade. ‘Fiona will have them all dancing to her tune in no time and Tommy will come in for a bit of reflected glory on her account. I’m going back tomorrow to take Tommy my half-size fiddle. You remember it, Mum? It seems I haven’t kept it all these years for nothing; Tommy wants to have lessons. He talked a lot about it on the way.’

  ‘Funny boy,’ Jenny laughed, ‘Fancy waiting until then to tell you. Or did you suggest it to him?’

  ‘No. I would never do that to either of them.’ Then with a laugh that was more genuine, she added, ‘It would be a waste of time on Fiona, that’s for sure.’

  So often Jacques listened, seeming to take comfort from the sound of their chatter, but now it was he who spoke. ‘If Tommy had taken the fiddle with him you wouldn’t have had to bring it afterwards. Knowing that you would be coming back would have made it less of a wrench for him to say goodbye.’ He spoke quietly, a slight smile tugging at his mouth as his sightless eyes were directed toward the sound of their voices.

  ‘Then I’m afraid he’ll be disappointed. I’m told it has to be delivered during class hours and I shan’t be able to see them.’

  Celia moved towards Jacques and rested her hand on his shoulder. Looking at them Zina felt a sharp stab of envy, followed almost immediately by shame. How could she envy them? Yet theirs seemed to cast most relationships into the shade. She pulled her mind back to the moment.

  ‘Lovely to find you all here,’ she said, her voice taking on a note so bright that it must have fooled them all. ‘If you really want to do me a favour, then stay and eat with me. I overstocked on this week’s order, somehow it seemed wrong to cut down while the twins were still at home. So the freezer is bulging and the cupboards too. Will you stay and help me eat some of it?’ The truth was that when she had phoned the orders she had hoped that Peter would have come back with her after taking the children to school. Just the two of them in the house, something they hadn’t known since their early days. In her weaker moments as she’d drifted towards sleep, she had imagined them together walking on the downs or working in the garden, finding the old easy companionship. Only in love-making did they come close and, even then, how much was simply the need to satisfy their sexual loneliness? But for the moment she was thankful to have a reason to prepare a meal and later in the evening glad to have to make herself play a part in the general conversation. In truth her straying thoughts were far more on Peter than on the children. Was that natural? Perhaps it was the closeness between the twins that gave her some sort of assurance that as long as they were together she had no need to worry. When the conversation turned back to them she really believed the truth of her answer.

  ‘Fiona was prepared to find everything to her liking, and if it wasn’t she was determined to sort it out. As long as she is there Tommy will cope.’ That had been their view right from when it was first decided (when Peter had first decided) that they were ready for boarding school.

  Celia’s glance was probing, but Zina set the smile firmly on her face. And so the first hours of living alone passed. In her head, though, she couldn’t help agonising over what Peter was doing and all that they’d said earlier that day. He should have arrived back by now. Perhaps he’ll phone tonight. Perhaps he was only making himself spiteful to me because he felt so wretched about saying goodbye to the children. I love you, Mr Marchand. But I couldn’t say it. Why couldn’t I?

  They were sitting over their coffee when she let her alert expression slip. Why didn’t he phone? He must expect that she’d be here on her own … probably he was out surrounded by friends, letting the world see the entertaining, sociable Peter Marchand beloved of all, friends and fans alike.

  ‘… timed so well.’

  She pulled her mind back under control, realizing her mother was speaking to her.

  ‘Sorry Mum, I didn’t hear what you said.’

  ‘I said that you’ll hardly have time to miss the others being about the place. A few more days and you’ll be a part of the quintet. It’s really all timed remarkably well.’

  ‘Yes, perfectly.’ Don’t let any of them guess at the shadow Peter was determined to cast on all her excitement. Because he was paid so highly (overpaid, nearer the truth, was her silent and uncharitable thought) he saw it as a personal slight that she wasn’t willing to sit and twiddle her thumbs waiting to rush at him with open arms when he found time to look her way.

  ‘Zina my dear,’ started Jacques and from his voice she knew he was the one who had been aware of the charade she’d been playing even though he probably assumed it was a mother’s natural unease for the twins, ‘it’s time we left you.’ He let his fingers lightly rest on the face of the special watch he wore. ‘Had you girls realized that it’s gone ten o’clock. By now those two young folk will have been sound asleep for an hour or more.’

  Ten minutes later both cars had gone and both dishwashers were loaded. The small supper party might never have happened. There would be no phone call now. Climbing the stairs Zina wanted just to put the day behind her. But it hadn’t finished with her yet.

  Sitting in bed trying to force herself to concentrate on a book, which surely couldn’t have been as dull as she was finding it, she was unprepared for the shrill bell of the telephone. He must be finding it as hard as she was to end the day!

  ‘Peter,’ she blurted his name even before she’d got the bedside receiver to her ear.

  ‘It’s me, Mum.’ A voice so quiet she could hardly hear.

  ‘Tommy, I thought you’d be asleep. Is everything all right? Speak up, I can hardly hear you.’

  ‘Shh, got to whisper, Mum, I’ve crept down to the payphone. Lights have been out ages. I’ve been waiting until they were all asleep. Dad gave us some coins, you see. For emergencies, that’s what he said.’

  Emergencies! What had happened! They shouldn’t be there, miles away in a strange place when they could have been happily asleep in their own beds.

  ‘What’s happened?’ How hard it was not to let him guess her misery. ‘Are you OK both of you?�
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  ‘Boys and girls all together for supper, Mum. I sat with Fiona. So I expect I’m luckier than most of the new ones. Most didn’t have anyone they even knew.’

  ‘You and Fiona always have each other.’

  ‘I wanted to speak to you, Mum. Sure you’re not lonely, Mum?’

  She heard the misery he tried to hide by pretending that she was the reason he couldn’t settle for sleep.

  ‘I’m missing you both, but I was very proud of the way you and Fiona marched off, Tommy. Having children growing up so fast takes some getting used to.’ She made sure there was a smile in her voice, for she knew him well enough to recognize how lonely and frightened he was. ‘Cuddle down in bed and go to sleep, love. Give my love to Fiona in the morning.’

  For a second or two the line was quiet, then he said, ‘No, you see I can’t do that, Mum. It’s best I don’t tell her I spoke to you. If she knew and I got copped out, like I said, she’d be in for trouble too.’

  Poor little love. They shouldn’t be there. It was Peter’s fault, all his rubbish about boarding school teaching them to stand on their own feet, making a man of Tommy.

  ‘I’ll want to hear about everything at the weekend, Tommy.’

  ‘You’ll be playing in the quintet. Mum, Mum enjoy it, won’t you. We’d better phone you on Sunday in case we get the time wrong. Your first recital, Mum. I’ll be thinking of you and waiting for Sunday to hear all about it.’

  Her love for the little boy was a physical ache. He always understood.

  ‘And I’m thinking about you all the time and being so proud of you both. Tomorrow I’ll bring the fiddle for you.’

  ‘Good-o. I’ll see you.’

  ‘No, I have to stick to the rules too. I have to bring it during class time. But you know it comes with lots of love and I’ll be imagining you having your first lessons.’