Echoes of the Dance (41 page)

Monica shook her head, drawing back her hands; her martyred smile indicated that Kate had no idea either of the enormity of the favour she was asking or how much Monica was suffering.

‘I'm beginning to remember why I was forced to flee to Jonathan in the first place,' she said bitterly. ‘He was decent and kind and straightforward. It's clear that Roly's unreliability and weakness has manifested itself in different ways in his son.'

The telephone bell made them both jump. Kate got up to answer it whilst Monica reached for her bag.

‘Hello, Nat,' said Kate. ‘Are you OK? . . . Yes, Monica did come here. She's . . . fine. Hang on a moment.'

She held the instrument out to Monica with a look of hopeful entreaty. Monica gave a little sneering smile and turned her back. She went out and climbed into her car. Kate stood for a moment in silence, biting her lips. Presently she put the receiver to her ear.

‘Sorry, Nat. You missed her by seconds. She's going back to London but I'm sure she'll be fine. More to the point, how are you and Janna? . . . Yes, of course I can come over. I'll be ten minutes.'

She grabbed her keys and ran out to the car. Afterwards she could never recall a single moment of the drive to Horra-bridge.

Nat met her at the door of the cottage.

‘I have to get back to work,' he said anxiously. ‘The trouble is I don't like to leave Janna. She's in such a state. I'm sorry, Kate.'

‘Don't be a twit,' she said cheerfully. ‘Janna and I will be fine.'

‘Was Mum very upset?'

She stared at his pale defenceless face, the troubled eyes, and savagely wished retribution on Monica.

‘She's being typically Monica,' she answered. ‘You have to accept that Monica is totally self-centred, Nat. Nothing in life matters except as to how much it affects her. She can't see people or their difficulties in any other light. She'll come round in time and, meanwhile, all the hiding and pretending is done with. That's great. It really is.'

‘I know. It was just . . . I was a bit brutal.'

Kate laughed. ‘Tough! Sorry, Nat, but it was her turn. Don't do the guilt thing. Let it settle a bit and then write to her. Where's Janna?'

They went inside together. Janna was sitting listlessly, huddled on the sofa in her shawl.

‘'Twas terrible,' she said to Kate, her lips trembling. ‘Terrible. And 'twas all my fault.'

‘No, my darling, it wasn't. Don't take it to yourself. This goes back years to long before Nat was even born. That's how life is. Tiny things – anger, resentment, selfishness, pride – all grow and mushroom out of control and when they finally explode lots of people are hurt by the fall-out. I think it's fantastic that Monica knows and, let's face it, this was the only way it was going to happen. Nat was never going to tell her.'

‘It's true, Janna,' he said. ‘I would never have had the courage.'

‘But don't take that to yourself as some kind of weakness,' cried Kate. ‘Your reaction to Monica is the outcome of the way she's behaved to you for the last thirty-odd years. What goes round comes round. Look, there's no time for this now. You must go or you'll be late. Janna and I will be fine. Is there anything you need? OK. Drive carefully and don't worry about us or Monica.'

She hustled him away and went back inside.

‘'Twas a mistake,' said Janna miserably. ‘I was late doing my room and she suspected something. I got nervous because I knew Nat didn't want her to know and she kind of tripped me up.'

Kate sat down beside her and took hold of the thin cold hand.

‘You did well,' she said gently. ‘Honestly, Janna, don't you think it's better not to be pretending?'

‘Nat stuck up for me. He said this was my home and that the bedroom was mine and that Moniker'd better find somewhere else to spend the night.'

‘Did he?' said Kate, impressed. ‘I should like to have seen that. Good for Nat.'

‘He meant it.' Janna was clearly moved. ‘He really meant it, Kate. I wanted to go but he wouldn't let me.'

‘Of course he meant it. Good grief, you've been his friend for years, the best he's got. That's why I don't want to see you both cock it up with all this nonsense about babies. You have a right to be in Nat's life without resorting to conventional codes and behaviour. You've got something very special. Accept it and enjoy it.' She gave Janna a hug. ‘Look, why don't you come back with me and I'll make us lunch.'

Janna scrambled to her feet. ‘I can do lunch,' she said. Suddenly there was a new and touching pride in her voice. ‘I made some soup in case Moniker was hungry and there's rolls and some cheese.'

‘Good. Got anything to drink with it? Moments of crisis make me thirsty.'

‘Nat got some Merlot in for Moniker. 'Tis her favourite.'

‘Well, she won't be needing it now, will she? Oh, good, he's uncorked it, clever fellow. Pass a couple of those glasses, Janna, and then you can tell me exactly what happened.'

CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN

Roly and Daisy, with all the dogs, went to collect Mim from the train. It was a blowy evening with showers of rain, but nothing could dampen Daisy's high spirits. Mim was quite as excited, sitting with her head turned sideways whilst Daisy talked in her ear. There was so much to report, so many new ideas to convey and quite a few questions to ask. As far as Daisy was concerned, a discussion about her biggest problem simply couldn't be postponed for a moment longer though: before they'd been in the car ten minutes she brought up the subject she'd already talked through with Mim a few days earlier. She wanted to use the students to their full potential, of course she did, but she was now convinced that the roles of the Organ-Grinder and the Laugher should be sung by professional adult singers.

‘Darling Daisy,' said Mim, when she could get a word in, ‘I don't quite see your problem with this one. Nobody's arguing with you. After all, this is not an end-of-term concert to show the parents how well their children are progressing. The Charity Matinée is a very different occasion. It's a showcase for the school. As you well know, we always invite guest artists to perform. I've already been thinking about this particular point since you talked to me on the telephone and I quite agree with you. I have a plan about whom I shall invite to sing the parts.'

The names of the two famous singers made Daisy gasp and stretch her eyes.

‘I have to say that sometimes even I forget how very powerful you are, Mim,' she said humbly. ‘Do you really think they'll accept?'

‘My ex-students are very kind to me,' replied Mim contentedly. ‘They'll probably manage to spare a few hours if I ask them nicely.'

For once Daisy was silenced: she sat staring out at the passing scene, seeing nothing but the images of her own creation, forming and re-forming in her mind's eye. Mim's suggestion made her suddenly fearful: how could her own puny efforts of creativity match the quality of such stars? Presently, however, she recovered her confidence and began to tell Mim about her ideas for one of the scenes outside the Star Cave where the children and Cousin Henry are waiting for the stars to appear in the night sky.

‘They each have their particular constellation, you see. Jane Anne's is the Pleiades, Jimbo's is the Pole Star and Monkey's is the Great and Little Bear. When Cousin Henry arrives and they make him a member of their Star Society he tells them that his constellation is Orion. I love the idea that the Starlight Express is actually a Train of Thought, don't you? I've been wondering if we might make something out of the constellation idea. Actually have children on flying equipment, like in
Peter Pan.
Did I tell you that I thought there might be a love interest with Jane Anne and Cousin Henry? I really think it would work but then I have this terror that I'm being rather too conventional.'

‘This is a children's matinée,' Mim reminded her. ‘It's not an avant-garde dance company performance.'

‘That's the conclusion I'd come to,' agreed Daisy, relieved. ‘And I know how you like to bring in one or two of the small ones if you can. Now, “The Waltz of the Blue-Eyes Fairy” absolutely lends itself to being used for that.'

‘So,' said Mim to Roly, when they'd arrived home and Daisy had dashed away to find her notes, ‘no more terrible, terrible love? She seems quite recovered.'

‘I think she is,' answered Roly. ‘Though I suspect she still has the odd painful twinge.'

‘Oh, darling,' said Mim sadly, ‘we all have those. Yes, please, I'd love a drink. And now tell me how Kate is. I see Floss is still with you.'

‘Poor Kate is in a bad way.' Roly passed Mim her glass and poured some more wine for Daisy, who had just appeared, clutching her notebooks. ‘She's finally decided against the cottage but her agent has persuaded her to sell the house anyway because the offer is so good and Kate needs the money. Apparently she's looked at several cottages this week but she simply can't find anywhere she likes so she's decided that, instead of being panicked into buying the wrong house, she'll simply have to rent until the right place turns up. On top of that, she's just been told that Guy and Gemma and the twins are emigrating to Canada. So, as you can imagine, she's struggling a bit.'

‘Poor Kate,' agreed Mim, shocked. ‘She simply adores those children. Oh, what a blow for her. Have you offered her the stable flat, Roly?'

‘Yes, of course. I knew you'd want me to do that. She was very grateful, and I think in the last resort she'd be glad of it, but for various reasons I think she'd rather be more independent. She likes to have friends and family to visit and it's a bit difficult here.'

‘Yes, I can quite see that. There's not much privacy and Kate would be anxious that she might be intruding. How difficult it is.'

‘If it were the autumn she'd pick up a winter let quite easily but in the middle of June it's a much more difficult proposition.'

‘What about Bruno's cottage?' Daisy had been sitting quietly, listening to the interchange. ‘Wasn't he telling us that the people are leaving and he's very anxious to find some- one who fits in with everyone at St Meriadoc? It must be tricky, actually, when it's such a family community. He was wondering whether they ought to do summer lets.'

She realized that Mim and Roly were gazing at her as though she'd said something extraordinary and she looked anxious.

‘What?' she asked defensively. ‘What did I say?'

‘You are amazing, Daisy,' Roly said at last. ‘When did Bruno tell you all this?'

‘You must remember, surely,' she answered impatiently. ‘We were looking out of his big window and I asked who lived in the little row of cottages. They looked so pretty, right against the sea wall, and those great towering cliffs kind of sheltering them. He said that his cousins live in two of them – well, you both know that, of course – and then he was saying that the one on the end was rented out but that the couple were having to leave and he was wondering what to do with it. You must remember, Roly. I joked that if you got tired of me I'd go and live at St Meriadoc. Would Kate like it, do you think? Does she know Bruno?'

‘Yes, she knows Bruno,' answered Mim thoughtfully. ‘David and Bruno were very good friends and David loved the north coast. Go and telephone her, Roly. No. Wait. Speak to Bruno first to make certain that the cottage is still available.'

Roly went upstairs and into his study to look up Bruno's number, leaving the two women considering this new idea.

‘Can you imagine Kate there?' Daisy asked Mim rather anxiously. ‘She loves Dartmoor so much, doesn't she? Would she be happy by the sea?'

‘There are the cliffs, so very wild and beautiful, and Bodmin moor is not far away.' Mim closed her eyes so as to see Kate in the setting. ‘I think that this might be just what she needs: a complete change just for a while.'

‘And she could have Floss there,' said Daisy, pleased at this new thought. ‘Floss and Bruno's Nellie would be great friends.'

‘The cottage is still available,' Roly was leaning over the gallery, ‘and Bruno says that he'd be delighted to let it to Kate for as long as she needs it. I'm going to try her number now.'

He went back into his study and paused for a moment, glancing down through the feathery branches of the cherry tree into the deep, dark waters of the pond, but there was no gleam or glint of gold. Half hidden by the tall yellow irises and green willow, the silver-grey form of the heron was barely distinguishable: he waited motionless in silent contemplation, one foot raised, the great spear of his beak poised in readiness. Roly watched, fascinated as always by this living symbol of paradox: beauty and violence. As he stared down into the shadowy garden he remembered his mother reading to him about the heron.

They sit beside the fire, listening to the wind in the chimney, watching the flames leap up, blue and orange and yellow, whilst Claire reads the books by ‘B.B.' to them. They are on to the second book about the Little Grey Men now, and in this chapter the gnomes are sitting on the river bank when the heron arrives. Roly always imagines the scene is set in his own garden: the dark green shining water beneath the silvery tangle of willows, the low beams of sunshine gilding the feathery tops of the bushes, and the fish darting below the big flat leaves of the water lilies. It is nice to know that the Little Grey Men revere the heron, calling him Sir Herne, and he likes to hear how the old heron gives one of the gnomes, Dodder, a lift up the Folly stream on his back.