Who Was Angela Zendalic (20 page)

She drew him into her arms, and smiled wryly, as if she was gently chastising a little boy. ‘I have to keep an eye on you, don't

I. Serves me right for falling in love with such a handsome man.' Her lips skimmed his, like the wings of a butterfly. ‘We don't want any nonsense, do we?' She picked up his hand, slipped it under her blouse, and laid it on her bare breast. ‘It's only me, you want, isn't it, Pierrot? Only me, my love. Only me.'

April 2014
Monks Bottom

F
riday
night, my usual bottle of plonk, and a quiet night in (no change there), but I had the ritual of watching
Gardeners World
to look forward to; the set-in-stone routine that had been part of Priory Hall life for as long as I could remember, with every presenter over the years – Geoff, Alan and Monty – seeming like loyal and trusted friends. Darling mummy, cuddled up against Pa, with a notebook and pen in hand, hanging on to every word they said.

After watching (for the umpteenth time) a feature on spring lawn care, I'd channel flipped for a bit, but found nothing I could concentrate on, so it was just before 10.00pm when I'd gone up to bed. Not quite inebriated, but dog-tired, and Saturday morning demanded an early start to take the boys on a thirty mile round trip to The Oxford Music School in north Oxford. I got into bed and had just turned out the light when I heard knocking on the front door. Furious that the boys might get woken up I flung on my cotton wrap, and ran downstairs. It was Father Crowley. ‘Sarah,' he stage whispered. ‘I'm so sorry about this but there's been a fire at Lower Bottom Farm where three of my chaps have their accommodation. The brigade have doused it, but they've all been washed out. Two of them have gone off to the Vicarage, but I've got Howie Sinclair in the car and I just wondered if he could stay at The Hall. Just
pro tem,
until I can get something else arranged.' He lowered his voice. ‘I can assure you there's absolutely no background of dishonesty, and I'll personally guarantee he'll be wholly reliable.'

I didn't need to think twice. ‘Of course he can,' I said. ‘Oh, the poor chap. I'll get him some keys.' It had been three days since our sensuous kiss, and although I'd been up to the house every day, and kept a keen eye out, I'd not seen even a flash of his old khaki coat. I'd actually giggled, remembering the line in Dylan Thomas's
Under Milk Wood
. That Bessie Big-Head had ‘
been kissed once when she wasn't looking, and was never kissed again, although she was looking all the time'
. Maybe he'd been steering clear of me, or maybe it was just co-incidence, but I was hoping...And, yes. I know. It was never going to happen again, but I'd still been willing him to appear. In fact, if Lawrence had asked me if he could sleep on my sofa I'd have welcomed him in with open arms. Yes, please. More of the same, right now, would be the very heaven.

With keys in one hand, and a bottle of milk in the other, I walked down the dark garden path to find Howie standing by the gate. ‘What a disaster', I said. ‘It'll be freezing cold up there but most of the beds are made up. You'll find fan heaters all over the place, and towels in the big bathroom airing cupboard. The switch for the immersion heater's in there as well. Sorry I can't come up with you.' I indicated the house. ‘My children are asleep.'

‘I'm most grateful, Miss Penney,' he replied, in his best Bill Patterson. I wanted to laugh. He was sending me up.

‘I'll be going to Waitrose tomorrow so I'll bring you up some essentials.'

‘Thank you. Kindness is the language which the deaf can hear, and the blind can see.'

‘Aha,' said Lawrence, skewering himself heavily into the driving seat of his car. ‘Mark Twain, if I'm not mistaken.'

‘You're not mistaken, Father,' replied Howie, getting in himself, and clipping on his seat belt. ‘It's amazing what you learn when you've got endless time on your hands.'

December 1969
Jericho

T
he
minute Angela returned home, Edie knew something was wrong. No careless slam of the front door, or a cheerful call of, ‘Hello Mum'. The door clicked quietly shut, and she didn't appear. Edie moved out into the passage to find her sobbing into her hands. ‘What's up, my lover? she cooed, moving forward to take her in her arms, and to guide her into the back room. ‘Look, here,' she said to Stan. ‘Our girl's in a right old state.'

‘Dr Penney ...Dr Penney, said ...'

Edie tutted. ‘We know what he said – or was going to say. It's all this stuff about The Royal Institution, isn't it?' Angela nodded. ‘He sounded me out in the spring and I sent him packing. Then he came round last week to talk it over again and I said that me and your Dad couldn't get involved. We said it's your decision. We're not pushing. We only want you to be happy.'

Angela's expression remained fixed as marble and she didn't respond. ‘I'm going up to have a bath. Will you leave me alone for a bit.'

‘Bloody man,' fumed Edie, after she'd gone upstairs. ‘All this high falutin' talk of royal places has scared her half to death.'

‘Don't be too hasty, duck. He's been right good to her. Thought the world of her ever since she was a kiddy.'

‘Well, maybe this is a step too far.'

It was an hour before Angela appeared, dressed in worn jeans and a sweater, her hair now washed, combed out of the Diana Ross tangle and hanging down in her natural crisp curls. She took one of the old chairs at the side of a crackling coal fire, refused Edie's offer of food, and looked up with a firm expression. ‘I've made a decision. I'm leaving choir.'

‘What?' Edie and Stan gaped in unison. ‘But ...'

‘No buts. Everything else will carry on as normal, especially the SuperStars.'

‘What about the Christmas Carol concert?' gasped Edie. ‘Your solo. You can't let him down.'

She shrugged. ‘I've got tonsillitis. Permanent!' Edie would normally have told her to stop being silly, and to behave herself, but on this occasion it wasn't the time for any more conflict. It was the time for warm cuddles and understanding.

‘S'alright, love. We won't push you. As I said, we only want you to be happy.' But Angela wasn't happy. He'd thrown her out, even though his willie had come up all big, and was sticking out of his trousers like a banana. And she'd have let him do it. She really would, even though she wasn't quite old enough. He must have wanted to, but then he changed his mind and decided he didn't want her after all, and how horrible was that.

Peggy reacted badly to the shock news. ‘You can't give up, darling. After everything Dr Penney's done for you, you can't just flounce out on him. Please, dear. Don't do anything rash.'

But Angela just stared at Peggy, with her eyes shining. ‘I hate choir, I hate everything. Leave me alone. What do you know?'

Peggy might as well have been punched. Her sweet pliable child was a child no more. Was this the ‘end of the road'? Had she lost her happy smiling little girl? She would soon be grown up, making her own decisions, and leaving her, and Ted, and Stan and Edie far behind. Disappearing into another world; the world of the swinging sixties and a rejection of the old order. A person of her own time with no thought or care for those scattered behind her. She tried again, pleading gently. ‘Darling, please. Don't let Dr Penney down.'

‘He can go to hell,' she snapped, jerking her head with anger.

‘Oh, Angela ...'

Angela made a sneering face, and repeated her words with caustic sarcasm. ‘
Oh, Angela ...
'

Losing her temper was unknown to Peggy, but she began to panic that her relationship with Angela really was on the brink of crashing. ‘Sweetheart. Don't be hasty. He can do so much for you, and he wants you to be something special.'

‘Oh, you're just like everyone,' Angela shouted, tossing her curls. ‘Always dripping sugar, and treating me like a clockwork dolly. Why don't you remember sometimes I'm a
black
dolly? You all try and pretend I'm not, and most of the time I pretend I'm not myself, but the minute I walk into the Royal Institution I won't be Angela Zendalic with the lovely voice. I'll be the little black girl who can sing a bit, and has to be ten times better than all the others.' She raised her voice even higher. ‘And don't keep going on about Piers Penney as if he's some sort of saint. He's a jerk.' She began to howl and walked out of the room.

Peggy, on the verge of tears herself, turned to Stan and Edie. ‘Shouldn't we talk this over with Dr Penney?'

‘Don't you mention him!' Edie rounded. ‘He's the one what's caused all this upset. If she leaves the choir, then so be it. All I want is my little girl to be happy. And as for this ‘I'm black' stuff, she's never come out with any of that nonsense before.'

‘Ah, but you have, Edie,' said Stan quietly. ‘You can't deny it. We've protected her from all that, and stuck up for her where needs be, but she's not daft. She looks in the mirror every day, and she knows how tough it can be for ...well ...for people like her.'

Within a few minutes Angela returned to the room, having stopped crying. ‘Look,' she said, firmly. ‘Can we pack up all this argie-bargie? I'm not going back, and that's final.'

Dear Dr Penney

With great sadness I am writing to inform you that Angela has decided to leave The Choral Society. Her parents and I have talked to her at great length, hoping to change her mind, but I am afraid she's resolute. We can only apologise if you find it as bewildering as we do, and hope it is a temporary decision. Naturally, we are very sorry that she will be letting you down so soon before the Christmas concert, but I'm afraid she can't be persuaded to honour her commitment.

On behalf of Stan and Edie Zendalic, I would like to thank you for the many years that you have nurtured Angela's voice, and shown her so much kindness. Once again, I apologise for this turn of events, and hope that in the fullness of time she ‘comes to her senses'.

Yours sincerely,

Peggy Edwards

May 1970
Jericho

2
6th
May 1970
     To all members of Tavistock Choral Society

Dear Friends

I am writing to inform you that I will be taking a sabbatical year from the end of Trinity term. I have been offered a teaching appointment at Harvard University in the USA, where I will be pursuing my interest in Baroque music and Renaissance polyphony. My wife, whom you will know as Merryn Hughes-Madoc, the Welsh harpist, will be working closely with the string department. It's the first time we will have worked together, and are both looking forward to it very much. My three small daughters are also thrilled that they will be living in the land of Mickey Mouse and Tom and Jerry!

Until my return, at the start of Michaelmas Term 1971, the choir will be in the safe hands of Dr Nigel Barker, whom you have already met as my recent assistant.

I can hardly believe it's seven years since I was appointed at Tavistock, and would like to say how supremely honoured I've been to work with such amazing talent.

So, with my sincerest wishes, I bid you farewell.

Piers Penney

Angela read the letter with an unchanging expression. ‘Good riddance to bad rubbish. Harvard's welcome to him.'

‘Well, he obviously didn't take you off the choir list, did he?' said Edie. ‘Maybe he was always hoping you'd go back.'

‘No chance.'

‘Angie ...Did something happen with him? You know ...something wrong you can't talk about.'

She shook her head. ‘The man's a cretin.'

‘What's a cretin, love?'

‘A person without a fully functioning brain.'

But had her adoration of him really faded? No. It had not. After a few weeks of miserable indulgence, with what she saw as ‘his rejection', she began to realise that she'd never
ever
love anyone else.

August 1970

A
ngela's
eight ‘O' level passes were celebrated by high tea at No.55, with her usual cast of supporters, but the star of the show sat with a downward look at the tablecloth, and very little in the way of conversation. ‘To your future life, darling,' beamed Stan. ‘Congratulations on a clean sweep of ‘A' grade passes. Here's to our star.' But the little star still sat with a glum face and four baffled faces looked at each other. ‘What's up love?' asked Edie. Angela shrugged, left the room, and came back with a letter. It was from the Kool Kids modelling agency.

Dear Angela
,

It is with deep regret that we are unable to extend your contract with this agency. We are so sorry to have to do this but your height and general appearance is now that of an adult, and thus we will be unable to find you any future work as a child model.

I enclose details of some top class agencies that may be interested in signing you, and we wish you well in your future life.