The CBB :: View topic - If Music Be The Food of Love - update p.2 5-12-2006

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If Music Be The Food of Love - update p.2 5-12-2006 http://www.the-cbb.co.uk/viewtopic.php?f=14&t=1676

Author:	Sophoife [ Thu Nov 23, 2006 4:47 pm ]
Post subject:	If Music Be The Food of Love - update p.2 5-12-2006
PART I First try at writing one of these... The serious-faced young woman looked up as she heard a door bang from lower in the house. "She's back! Now I'll find out what's going on!" and she laid down the book she had been reading, rose from the sofa, and was standing by the fireplace when her friend burst into the room. "At last! The rain's so heavy I thought I'd melt before I got here, but I made it! Ruth sends her love, by the way." An attractive blonde, easily as exuberant as when she'd been a fifth-former at the Chalet School, Gay Lambert shed her wet raincoat over the back of the sofa as she moved quickly to warm herself at the fire. Her friend Jacynth Hardy smiled. "Ruth always sends her love. And she knows mine is always with her. After all, she's been there for me ever since Auntie died, in many ways more so even than Joey." This was so, because as Jacynth was leaving the Chalet School for the Royal College of Music, Gay's brother Tommy had been posted to a desk job at the Air Ministry, and both girls had made their home with Ruth and Tommy for the duration, not merely during the holidays as they had while at school. Both Gay and Jacynth had been destined for the Royal College of Music, but in the August after the girls had left school, Gay had been involved in a car accident. A back-seat passenger at the time, she had been assessed as "lightly injured" by the ambulance team on the scene, and it wasn't until four days later that the orthopaedic surgeon who operated on her left wrist and elbow had discovered that she was a promising cellist. "My dear, I'm very sorry, but I had no idea. I could try re-pinning the elbow, but I don't think that would make any improvement. That arm will never be strong or flexible enough for you to play the cello professionally." The great doctor had shaken his head, inwardly fuming at the fools in the Emergency Department who had sedated the girl heavily because she was so agitated at the time of her admittance, leaving her unable to explain to anyone until after she'd had surgery about her musical ambitions. Gay had known there was something wrong with her left arm, but had hoped when she woke - eventually! - that everything had been fixed and she would be out of hospital and back at her music within a few days. It had been her question regarding how long it would take, and the subsequent explanation of her proposed studies and career, that had resulted in the delivery of the surgeon's - to her - stunning blow. Never a girl to admit defeat - witness her midnight breakout from Plas Howell a few years earlier - Gay had decided that whatever the surgeon might say, she would jolly well prove him wrong, and in the meantime, not an academic, she had decided to do something completely different while waiting for her arm to regain the strength and flexibility she knew it had had before the accident. So she had achieved a Cordon Bleu diploma, and was now in demand for her culinary delights in boardrooms around the City. Jacynth had combined her cello studies with further work on composition. A professor had been heard (by Gay, after a college concert) to state that he now couldn't say whether Jacynth Hardy would eventually rival Pablo Casals or Dame Enid Spink, and he didn't mind betting it would be both! Gay, delighted for her friend, had not dared to repeat the results of her fairly blatant eavesdropping, but hugged it to herself. Generously, she felt that Jacynth's successes were both of theirs, and had never been heard to repine on her own bad luck. **** "Any coffee going, old thing?" thus Gay to Jacynth as they sat on the rug in front of the fire in their tiny living-room. "I mean, I've been out in this horrible rain for the last two hours, while you've been sitting here, warm and cosy, with nothing to do but make sure a pot of coffee's ready for your poor drowned Auntie Gay!" She spoke to the air, however, as by the time she'd finished a dry towel was flying in her direction from the doorway, followed a couple of minutes later by Jacynth, with a tray containing not only coffee but crumpets and a toasting fork. "Angel Jacynth! What would I do without you?" Jacynth merely smiled and set to toasting a crumpet. "What would you do without me? What would I do without you? or Ruth and Tommy?" PART II "Oh, you'd cope. After all, you've got Gill, and Joey, and Jack, and Bill, not to mention Cherry!" a mischievous look accompanied Gay's final word. "I was wondering what place you'd put Cherry in! What about Cerita, may I ask? Isn't she just as important? After all, she's the one who sees as much of me as Cherry does." And Jacynth could have bitten out her tongue as she heard her own words. Seeing the stricken look on Jacynth's face, Gay hastened to reassure her. Mouth full of buttery crumpet, she laid a hand on Jacynth's arm. "Jacmmf!" and she swallowed. "You know I love to hear Cerita when you play her, and after all, it's not as if I went deaf! I know you play her almost as much as you do Cherry, and you're certainly better with her than I ever was! I don't know, sometimes I think that dratted man did me a favour! This way I don't have to play second fiddle!" and she grinned. Not fooled a whit by Gay's seeming insouciance, Jacynth laid her free hand over Gay's, and smiled. "You play second fiddle? Never - not in all your puff, as your young niece would say! Anyway, tell me! Where did you have to go on such a day? And how did you manage to see Ruth when she and Tommy moved to Germany two months ago?" "How did you know I'd seen Ruth? - Oh! I said she sent you her love, didn't I?" Gay grinned again, somewhat shamefacedly. "Well, she came over because young Anne had to go to a - what d'you call it? - chap who puts braces on?" "Orthodontist," murmured Jacynth. "Yes, that. Anyway, she came over here because the base in Germany doesn't have one, and her German's not good enough yet for her to feel confident about Anne seeing the one in the town near the base, and poor Anne's been very upset at school since the move, apparently lots of the kids have been teasing her about having buck teeth - you know there are lots of Americans on the base and the school has a few - they've been calling her Bucky Beaver!" Another half of crumpet effectively stopped Gay from saying any more, and Jacynth had to possess her soul in patience until Gay had licked the last buttery crumbs from her fingers. "Gosh, that was good! Just the ticket on a day like this! As I was saying, Ruth and Anne came over to see the tooth man, and I didn't know until I literally bumped into them outside the Lyons at Marble Arch. Tommy being in the RAF, they flew over, and they're going back tonight, so they didn't come to us. We had time for a quick cup of coffee, but Anne didn't feel much like anything to eat, and they were in a tearing hurry to get back to the airfield, so…" "Yes, but, Gay - what were you doing near Marble Arch? It's nowhere near where you normally work, and anyway, I thought you weren't working today?" Gay looked at the rug for a moment, willing herself to get on with it. She threw up her head and said, "I'm not coming to Paris when you start at the Conservatoire next month. I'm staying here instead. It was all fixed today." Jacynth stared, stunned. Paris without Gay! It couldn't be true. She said as much, and it was a sober Gay who answered. "Quite true, I'm afraid. I had the chance of an amazing job, in the kitchen at the Savoy, under their great chef, and today I got it. I'm the first girl he's had in his kitchen, and my Cordon Bleu doesn't mean all that much to him, so I think I'll be starting on the vegetables, but he's the best there is and I couldn't get a better training. After all, I don't want to be avoiding City gents' wandering hands for ever!" "But…but…what will I do? The Conservatoire will be hard work, my French (thanks to Mlle Berné and Mlle de Lachennais) is good enough to cope with the everyday things, but - oh, Gay! We were going to see Paris together!" and Jacynth's grey eyes filled with tears. "Buck up, old thing! It's not as if it's forever, and at least I'll be able to keep home going for your holidays. This house is our home, and we would have lost it if we'd both gone to Paris, anyway." Which was true, but not what Jacynth wanted to hear. The girls had made plans to see all of Paris - the touristy Paris and what they termed the 'real' Paris - together while Jacynth spent the two years at the Conservatoire provided for by the Karl Anserl Scholarship. And now these plans were as nothing! Jacynth knew Gay well enough to know when she was not to be moved, and she knew she would be living in Paris, if not travelling there, alone.

Author:	Sophoife [ Thu Nov 23, 2006 4:48 pm ]
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PART III Three weeks after Gay's bombshell, Jacynth sighed as she finished strapping her trunk. She was looking forward to Paris, all right, but it wouldn't be the same without Gay. Initially she had hoped that Gay would at least travel out with her, but the new job at the Savoy had started ten days before her planned departure, and Gay was out from just after dawn until long after dusk. The only day off Gay had had was the preceding Saturday, and she had slept until early afternoon before dragging a protesting Jacynth to Highbury, the local football ground. Although football had been an unknown in the Welsh valley where they had mostly been at school, Tommy and Ruth's living near Newcastle during the war had given her a taste for the sport, and the move to London after schooldays had ended had renewed her acquaintance with it. Now, the two girls lived two streets away from the home of a team at the top of the First Division, and Gay attended matches every chance she got. Not so Jacynth, who normally avoided football like the plague, but had gone with Gay as she had barely seen her since the Savoy job had begun. After the match, the two girls had walked home, even Jacynth basking in the vicarious glow of a well-earned victory. Suddenly, Gay had stopped walking. "Jac, I'm sorry about the last few days. Monsieur is an absolute slave-driver, and I haven't even touched a vegetable yet! I've been washing dishes all day and half the night, and if it weren't that I mean to see it through, I'd have given up at the end of the first day. But I got the job - over male applicants as well - and I'm not going to leave just because I'm being treated worse than the maids at school were ever treated!" Jacynth had stared at her friend. This was a Gay she hadn't seen before, and wasn't sure she knew. Of course, she knew Gay was a determined character - witness her brave volte-face after her accident - but she hadn't known she was this strong. "Gay, I - I don't know how you can do it in that case! I mean…" but Gay had walked on. Jacynth had followed her just in time to hear her reply. "I was never going to be like Janet Scott, or Kathie Robertson or Joan Sandys - all of them are clever and went to university, two on scholarships! I was pretty good with Cerita, but I don't mind telling you of all people that even before I dished my arm I was fairly certain you'd soon be far better than I could ever be, and I was looking around for something to do even then. In a way, that dratted man did me a favour - I haven't had to find out just how much better you are, and the book Dr Morgan gave me while I was in hospital helped me make a choice. I was fascinated by the recipes Escoffier described, and I was grateful for all that French at the Chalet School! At least I could read the recipes! When they asked at the Cordon Bleu school what had brought me there, I could hardly say 'Ow, Miss, I read Monica Dickens' book and I wanna be a cook-general'! So I said I'd read Escoffier and they didn't believe me!" By this time, the girls had reached home, and the conversation had continued in the kitchen, in which Jacynth forced Gay to sit on a stool by the Aga while she put together a scratch meal of cold meat and salad. "What do you mean, they didn't believe you?" "It wasn't until I explained that school had actually taught us in French and German, and that I could read French reasonably well, that they accepted it. Luckily one of the other girls' cousins was at Red Gables so she'd heard of the Chalet School and what she called 'its weird emphasis on foreign languages'!" Gay had chuckled heartily, and the two had spent the evening relaxing in the living room, with Jacynth playing some Haydn to Gay before they listened to a concert on the Third Programme. ** Jacynth realised she'd been sitting on her trunk for quite fifteen minutes, and she had a train to catch! Sure enough, there was a peal on the front door-bell that told her the taxi she had booked had arrived, and she hastened to put on her hat. Looking around the small but perfectly-proportioned room, she mentally wished the house 'farewell' before picking up her overnight case and heading downstairs. Opening the front door, she was stunned to see that instead of the taxi-man she had expected, Dr Jack Maynard stood grinning down at her. Arsenal won the First Division in 1947/48 so that gives you the date for this… PART IV "Dr Jack!" Jacynth found herself engulfed in a bear-hug, so her exclamation of surprise was necessarily somewhat muffled. "What are you doing here?" "Come now, Jacynth! Joey and I have stood as guardians to you on behalf of the school since your aunt died, remember? Oh, I know Mr Harper is your trustee, and he and his family have been very good to you, and you've spent most of your time with the Lamberts since you left school, but we are still family - sort of - in a semi-official on behalf of the school kind of way!" Having achieved a convolution of expression worthy of his wife, Jack Maynard grinned. How he wished Jo could have heard him - maybe she'd have been less squashing of his verbal pretensions in future. Jacynth's often-solemn face lit up. "Of course you are! And I love you all, but that doesn't answer my question." "Well, I have to go to a medical conference, mainly a reacquaintance-type thing, nothing very strenuous, but I have to go, a lot of chaps to catch up with, and it'll be a bit of a long and boring journey as I have to travel by train and boat, and train again, and I wondered if you might like to come with me?" "Come with you? Do you mean - ?" A wild hope dawned in Jacynth's heart. "Are you - ?" "Yes, Jacynth. My conference is in Paris." Turning to the hitherto-ignored taxi-man, Jack offered to give him a hand with Jacynth's trunk, which he assumed - correctly - was still upstairs. "Nah, guv! I'll get it down them apples an' pears - used to it, y'see! You better wait with the lidy, an' we'll be orf in two shakes!" Firmly put in his place by a professional in his own field, Jack bowed laughingly to Jacynth, offering his arm. "Taxi, miss? This way, miss!" Gurgling with laughter, Jacynth allowed herself to be escorted to the taxi. The boat-train was about half an hour out of Dover, and Jacynth had learned that Dr Jack, as she persisted in calling him, was in fact going to Paris to meet with several doctors he had known while in Tirol, some of whom had spent the war in Switzerland, others who had been forced to live under the Nazis. "We've got a lot to learn from each other, you see. Dr - I mean Sir! - Jem and I have been working with TB patients a long time now, but when people work under different circumstances, new ways of treating the disease can emerge or evolve, and although we've had our successes in Wales, I'm very interested to hear from the chaps who were in the Swiss Alps. And I only managed to stop Jo from coming by deliberately not telling her I hope to meet up with one or two of "our" doctors - I've been told a couple of chaps who were at the San before we had to leave Austria will be in Paris as well. In fact I used you as my excuse - said I'd be so busy with the conference and with settling you, that she'd be better staying at home, especially as we're not long back in our own home." Jack knew that sometimes people found his wife a little overwhelming, and he had a sneaking suspicion that Jacynth was one of them. When he looked at her to see how she'd taken his explanation, his suspicion was confirmed. There was a distinct look of relief on the face opposite him. "Jo will be disappointed not to have seen Paris again, though," was all Jacynth ventured to say. Inwardly she could have shouted her relief. Despite Jo's real sympathy when her beloved Aunt Mary had died, she had never felt entirely comfortable with her. "Oh, I'll take her next year. We'll have been married ten years then, and I think Paris is an appropriate spot for an anniversary such as that!" and the two turned to and collected their things, as they were running in to the station. After Jacynth's first Channel crossing, she wondered how on earth the "armada" had managed in the retreat from Dunkirk if the water was always that rough. By the time the train reached Paris, however, she had recovered to the extent that she was eager to set out for the Conservatoire as soon as she'd collected her trunk from the luggage van. "Oh no, my child. Not yet! First we're going to an hotel, and you're going to get a good night's sleep. You had a nasty go crossing the Channel, and I think I'll give you something to ensure that sleep. Tomorrow will come soon enough!" and Jack ignored all her protestations as he found them a porter, who found them a taxi, which found their hotel - in due course. On reaching her hotel room, Jacynth had to admit to herself that the white bed, turned invitingly down, was the most appealing thing she had seen since Dover, and Jack's "something" never materialised, as when five minutes later he knocked on the communicating door and softly opened it, she was asleep, looking not much older than the day he'd diagnosed her with German measles. ** In London, Gay reached home, exhausted from another day spent at the sink, at about the time Jacynth was falling into slumber. Wearily opening the front door, she was puzzled for a moment that the lamp in the hall was dark, until she remembered that today had been the day Jacynth was to leave for France. Sighing, she sat down on the bottom of the stairs as she removed her hat. It was then that she noticed the line of light coming from under the living-room door.

Author:	LizB [ Thu Nov 23, 2006 5:05 pm ]
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Yay! It's back - so pleased to see this again bounces

Author:	Josie [ Thu Nov 23, 2006 5:07 pm ]
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OOo - hurrah! I love this drabble! So glad to see it back, Sophoife (and you too!). Thanks for reposting.

Author:	Lesley [ Thu Nov 23, 2006 8:54 pm ]
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Good to see this again. Welcome back Sophoife!

Author:	Caroline [ Fri Nov 24, 2006 10:19 am ]
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Fab to see this back - does this mean we can expect new installments soon...? Caroline

Author:	Sophoife [ Fri Nov 24, 2006 12:45 pm ]
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I'm away for the weekend till Sunday night. Meanwhile enjoy catching up PART V Abruptly standing, no longer weary, Gay picked up the hockey stick in the hall-stand and reached for the handle of the living-room door. Turning the handle, she flung the door open, finding the lamps on and a fire burning merrily on the hearth. A dark head was visible over the back of the sofa, and a tray sat on the floor. “All right! Who the heck - Hawk!” and she flung herself at the tall young man she had once described to Jacynth as “handsome-beaky”. PART VI Hawk Culver, or Peregrine to give him his real name, fended her off. “Steady on, Gay! You’ll have the spirit-lamp over!” and Gay saw that indeed, on the low table in front of the sofa, was a spirit-lamp, with a kettle just boiling. “Oh, Hawk, you gave me such a fright! I knew Jac wouldn’t be here, and I couldn’t think who else would be, as the only other person with a key besides Ruthans (and she’s in Germany)” she added in hasty parenthesis, “is Gill, and she’s at Culver’s Hold as I very well know, having spoken to her on the ‘phone only last night! Oh!” as light dawned. “Gill gave you her key!” “As you say. I was down at the Hold for a couple of days, and when Gill knew I’d to be in London tonight, she said she was sure you wouldn’t mind a surprise, and might be feeling lonely on young Jacynth’s first night away.” The tall young man grinned down at Gay, and folded himself back into his former comfortable position on the sofa. “Oh, that’s Gill all over! I’m sure she came within an ace of rushing up here to take Jac to Paris, because you know, she’ll be very alone until term starts at the Conservatoire. But she said something last night that made me think she’d be at the Hold until her university term starts, something about being stuck there, so I knew it - you - couldn’t be her!” With this, Gay removed her coat and sat cross-legged on the rug in front of the fire. Reaching her hands toward the blaze, she wriggled happily as she began to warm up. A cup of coffee appeared as if by magic by her right elbow, and she turned and looked up at Hawk. “Thanks, old man! Well, you are!” as he raised an eyebrow. “Gill’s a year older than me and you’re two years older than her! Gosh, that makes you - let me see,” counting on her fingers “I’m twenty-one, Gill’s twenty-two, and you must be - twenty-FOUR!” “Yes, I see the grey hairs every morning.” Drily, “Don’t be an ass, Gay! Now wire in to that coffee and I’ll go and fetch the stew Mums gave me to bring up. From all they’ve said, Mums and Gill think you’re not going to look after yourself properly with Jacynth in Paris, so don’t give me that look! I’m just the carrier!” With which he departed for the kitchen, as Gay screwed up her nose at his retreating back. ** After eating - and remarking that rabbit was not something often seen in London, even at the Savoy, in these days of rationing - Gay remembered that she hadn’t asked Hawk why he was in London. His course at Cirencester had ended, and she knew he would eventually go back and run Culver’s Hold, but she wasn’t quite sure what he was doing at the moment. With Gay, to wonder was to ask, so she did. “Why am I in London? Because I’ve got a job interview tomorrow morning, and if I get the job, I can travel down tomorrow and start at once.” “A job? Where? What kind of job? I thought you’d be going home!” “No, not yet. Dad doesn’t need me yet, and I’m not the type to kick my heels waiting for him to hand over the reins, so I put out a few feelers, and I got this offer. I’ve to meet the chap tomorrow, he wants someone to run the place for him while he’s still in the Army.” Hawk Culver had himself served nearly three years in the Army as a young man straight out of school, not having been demobbed for more than a year after hostilities had officially ended. “Actually, it’s a pretty good job. Beautiful country west of London, boss away in London most of the time, good hunting...yes, the chap is in the Guards, career officer, unmarried, but has this gorgeous place he can’t and doesn’t want to sell.” “O-oh! I see! Entailed, like Culver’s Hold. Well, that sounds like a good idea. D’you think you’ll get it?” Gay couldn’t imagine anyone not wanting to give Hawk a job, especially someone who was in the Army and would know Hawk had been in the thick of the fighting in Europe. “Possibly. He sounds like a good chap - bit of a peacock, like most of the Guards - but I shouldn’t say that. We saw how they fought, in France and Germany. Now,” changing the subject abruptly, “what about you? What’s all this about the Savoy? Does it mean I get to eat there free?” PART VII “No, you ass! I thought I should do something more than I have been doing, and I wasn’t going to tag along with Jac to Paris, so when I overheard someone say Monsieur wanted a trainee in the kitchen, I applied. They were awfully surprised when I turned out to be a girl! But then it turned out that one of the chaps at the interview is a friend of one of the directors of Coutts’, and I’ve done their lunches quite a bit, so he told Monsieur and the other chap that he’d eaten my food and could cheerfully say that he hadn’t died - yet! Which I thought was a bit rude, but as I was offered the job five minutes later, I can’t say now that I mind all that much.” “Friends in high places, eh? Well, how’s it going?” “Oh Hawk!” and Gay at last allowed herself to break down. Not for worlds would she have shown Jacynth how truly hard it was in the kitchens at the Savoy, but Hawk was a solid lump of comfort and she badly needed him just then. “I’ve been there two weeks, and I haven’t even seen a single edible thing - except what I get given for lunch and supper! Monsieur obviously doesn’t think girls can do anything, he’s had me washing dishes all day, every day! He gave me a chance by giving me the job, why won’t he give me a chance in the kitchen? And I get so tired!” Fiercely, she wiped away the tears she hated to shed, not realising that Hawk was tactfully looking away. “Come on, old lady! Buck up, do! And tell Uncle Hawk all about it.” He proffered a clean but crumpled handkerchief. “No, it’s OK, I’ve got it off my chest now. Thanks for the hanky, Hawk. Oh, I don’t know, I told Jac I wouldn’t give in, but I’m getting closer to it. If only I could get away from the smell of soda! They use soda to clean the pans at the Savoy - if it was good enough for Monsieur Escoffier, it’s good enough for them now! And just look at my hands! If I even tried to pick up a bow, it’ud be sandpapered in a wink!” and poor Gay spread out the much-abused hands, that hot water and soda had reddened and roughened so much in only two weeks that she could indeed be excused for thinking they were beyond repair. “I can fix that. Lanolin. Rub it in every night and you’ll have your soft hands back as soon as you like.” A giggling Gay managed to express her incredulity, and Hawk went on. “No, it’s true. You’ve met old Ern? The shepherd at Culver’s Hold? Well, have you ever noticed he has the softest hands you’ve ever seen? It’s the lanolin in the wool. You can buy it in jars or - especially if I get this job tomorrow - I can let you have some!” Very tired despite her giggles at the picture of stern, taciturn Ern with soft, ladylike hands, Gay caught herself yawning and staggered to her feet. “Thanks awfully, Hawk. Sorry to be a bit of a wet blanket, but I’ve just got to go to bed. D’you want to sleep in Gill’s room? It’s right at the top, even above Jacynth’s, and probably pretty chilly, but I can always fill the hot water bottle for you.” “You’ll do no such thing! Off to bed, miss, and quick about it! I’ll shake down here on the sofa as it’s warm in here. Just point me to the blankets.” The next morning Hawk was gone by the time Gay flew downstairs, having realised she’d overslept. On the hall table next to the lamp, she found a note. ‘Dear Gay, ‘Gone to see chap about job. Bulb in lamp is blown, couldn’t find replacement last night. Don’t go to work today, I called in sick for you. Get some more sleep and I’ll see you about one. ‘Hawk’ PART VIII Gasping at the sheer cheek - how had Hawk dared to tell that to the Savoy of all places - Gay had to admit that the prospect of more sleep sounded very appealing, so she turned round and returned to her bed. What seemed like five minutes later, there was a knock at her bedroom door, and Hawk’s voice from the hall said “Hurry up, it’s half past one and there’s lunch on the table!” followed by thundering footsteps down the shabbily-carpeted stairs. Gay roused herself, washed quickly at the washstand in front of the window, and dressed. Once downstairs, she found that Hawk had set out lunch on a cloth he’d laid out on the flags of the back yard, and the sun being not much past its zenith was still flooding the area. “A picnic! Oh, Hawk, thank you!” Hawk gruffly explained that he had something to celebrate - he’d been offered the job. “Do you really have to go down today?” “Oh yes, that’s a given. Captain - Eddie - the chap, you know, the one who’s given me the job - said his bailiff wants to leave at the end of the week, so that doesn’t give me any too much time to get into the swing of things.” “Gosh. OK well, you’d probably better go soon then or you won’t get there before dark.” “Why, wherever d’you think I’m going?” “You didn’t say, but you said ‘west’ and ‘beautiful country’, so I thought maybe - the Marches, or Wales? And that’s a fair way!” Hawk threw back his head and laughed. “You donkey! Nowhere near that far! Rutshire actually. Less than three hours by car. And I have a car, you know.” “You do? Where?!” Excitedly Gay rushed back through the kitchen towards the front door. Sighing resignedly, Hawk followed her to the street, where she had discovered that Hawk’s car wasn’t. PART IX In fact the car was a former American Army jeep, that looked as if it had been to the Rhine and back, under fire all the way. In the back was an agglomeration of luggage, amongst which Gay recognised a couple of fishing rods, the shape of a gun, and, crowning the pile, what surely had to be - “Hawk! Those boots! Aren’t they - ?” “Yes, Dad’s. Pre-war, but luckily they fit me as you can’t get things like that at the moment. Or not at the prices I can afford to pay!” “Gosh, won’t you look swish! Are you going to hunt?” “I said, it’s good hunting country. Eddie’s stables are pretty well-stocked he says, and there’s a cob that should be up to my weight.” “Eddie sounds like a pretty good fellow to me. P’raps I’ll come and see.” With the mischievous look that she had always claimed she didn’t produce on purpose, Gay stood on the front door-step, watching as Hawk managed to start the jeep. Over the noise of its engine, she saw rather than heard Hawk shout “Goodbye! And remember - nil bastardio carborundum!” Giggling, for even her Latin wouldn’t have produced something like that, she waved and returned indoors, feeling much better about her return to the hot water and soda hell the next day. Jacynth stretched, opening her eyes to a larger room than she was accustomed to, and remembered that she was in Paris. But why - oh, yes, Dr Jack had accompanied her over, and he was in the next room. She smiled, thinking of his kindness the previous day. Why, Jo Maynard would have been all over her the whole way, doubtless full of stories of her little ones, and probably would have insisted on sleeping in the same room - bed, as there was only one - as Jacynth. Good her intentions might be, overwhelming in the demonstration of them they certainly were. After a bath that she did not take cold, Jacynth dressed quickly, and was looking over Cherry to see how the cello had survived the journey when she heard a knock at the communicating door. She raised her head. “Come in!” and on the words, the door was opened by Jack Maynard. He stood smiling down at the girl, noting that the dark circles under her eyes had lessened with the good sleep she had surely had. “All right?” Receiving a nod and a smile in reply, he continued. “I thought you might like to breakfast on the terrace. It’s a lovely morning, and petit déjeuner somehow always tastes better in the open air - even the open air of Paris!” Jacynth hastily closed the cello case, and the two went down to the terrace. After breaking their overnight fast, the two remained at the table, enjoying a second cup of coffee. Jack sat back and lit his pipe. “Now, I don’t have to be anywhere today, the chaps I’m meeting are mostly not going to be in Paris until tomorrow, so I thought we’d take a stroll this morning and find the Conservatoire, then fix you up with somewhere to live. There’s sure to be any number of pensions that’ll have room and aren’t too far away...” he looked up to see an expression of dismay cross Jacynth’s face. “What’s the matter?” “Oh, Dr Jack -” she stopped, for he had leaned forward and taken her hand. “Now look, Jacynth, you’re nearly twenty-one, don’t you think it’s time you stopped calling me ‘Dr Jack’? It was all very well while you were still at school, but I’ve hardly seen you since you left the island, so can’t we start as adults? My name, as you know very well, is Jack. And I won’t answer if you use my profession again!” Releasing her hand, he sat back, amused at her expression. “But Dr - oh, very well, Jack, then! Won’t other people think it fearful cheek?” “Why ever should they? My wife is ‘Jo’ to you, and has been since before you left school, so why on earth shouldn’t I be ‘Jack’?” “Oh - I don’t know - it just - oh, all right. What I was going to say was, I don’t want to live en pension. I want to look after myself! I can, you know. Gay and I have been doing just that for ages now.” Somewhat sceptical, forgetting the good housewifery training Jacynth had received from jolly Frau Mieders at the Chalet School, Jack raised his eyebrows. “Oh yes? We’ll see, my girl.” “Look here,” and Jacynth screwed up her courage. She’d been a good Head Girl, but she’d known where she stood with the girls and staff. Here, in Paris where she’d never been, spending more time alone with a man than she’d ever done, even if it was Dr Jack, whom she knew fairly well, she felt a little out of her depth. “If you want me to be an adult and call you by your Christian name, then you’ve got to allow me to act as an adult. If I don’t want to live en pension I shan’t. I’m sure that, as in London, there’ll be a notice-board at the Conservatoire with places for rent, either to share or alone, and I’ll find somewhere very easily. And -” with a memory of something she’d heard Jo say, “you can put that in your pipe and smoke it!” A little aghast at her own temerity, but still very much on her dignity, Jacynth rose to her feet. “Thank you very much for breakfast. I think I’ll go and get my bag, then I’ll find the nearest Métro station.” PART X Jack Maynard rose to his considerable height as she passed him, and put out a hand. “Look, Jacynth, don’t rush off half-cocked! I’m sorry, I suppose I was a bit elderly there. You need to remember that I’ve not seen you that much since you left school, so despite all my fine words, I still see you as very much a young girl. And I need to remember that if I invite someone to treat me as a fellow adult, I’d better extend the same courtesy to them!” She had swung round to face him, and there was an attractive flush in her cheeks. “I - I - I’m sorry! I was very rude, but you did make me so mad! And we had such a lovely day yesterday, too!” She smiled briefly. “All right, let’s start again - Jack.” Jack grinned and patted her on the shoulder. “All right then. Now, let’s go and find this notice-board of yours!” Jacynth was right. The Conservatoire did indeed possess a notice-board of the type she’d described, and (accompanied by Jack) she eventually found a place on the ground floor of a building with a concierge that looked as if it’d seen better days. There were three rooms leading off each other, with a tiny alcove nearest the external wall of the building that contained not only a cold water tap, but a geyser and a hot water tap. The stone sink below the taps was large enough to have bathed Rufus, and Jacynth thought that if she couldn’t find a bath in Paris, she could probably manage to squeeze herself in there as well! She was surprised at the low rent the concierge demanded, but then she’d been too wrapped up in the fact that the appartement was just about perfect in both location and facilities to notice that Jack had had a quiet conversation with Madame in his fluent French and that Madame had smiled toothlessly at the tall Anglais before squirrelling something away under her black shawl. “And it’s only ten minutes from the Conservatoire - no struggling on the Métro with Cherry! Gosh, I used to get some pretty filthy looks sometimes, especially when it was wet and there were lots of people on the Tube!” Smiling up at Jack, Jacynth was pleased that he’d accepted her choice. “When do you need to be busy with your conference people? Tomorrow morning? Because I thought I’d get the hotel to arrange a taxi or something and I’d move in then, and you must be my first guest tomorrow night!” Jack smiled. He’d paid Madame well and given her to understand that she would be paid on a regular basis as long as she kept an eye on Jacynth. Of course, her concept of ‘keeping an eye on’ might well be very different from his, but he felt that a couple of surprise visits - he had another meeting planned just outside of Paris in six weeks’ time - would keep her up to his mark. “You’re right, tomorrow morning it is.” He looked down into her grey eyes. “You understand that you’ll be able to practise at home because the walls are thick enough that you won’t disturb anyone else? But Madame did say that she’s on the other side of the archway from you, so you mustn’t lose yourself in the music and play all night! She’d probably have something to say about that...and so would I, as your medical adviser!” The pair returned to the hotel, where after a delicious meal, Jack produced tickets to the Opéra for that evening’s performance. “I know it’s ballet and I’ve not seen much, but I thought you’d enjoy it.” “Oh, Jack, how kind! When did you get them?” and Jacynth reddened yet again at the thought of how rude she had been that morning. PART XI Jacynth the sensitive had lost herself in the ballet, Les Sylphides, with its lovely Chopin music. Jack, less enthralled, had surprised himself by the amount of time he’d spent contemplating the girl next to him. He’d originally decided to escort her to Paris to keep Jo from worrying vociferously, and he was a little disconcerted by the effect a maturing Jacynth was having on him. Ho hum! He’d be busy from the next morning with his former colleagues, and she’d be busy with her music. He’d probably go and look over the appartement again the next evening, but then he’d be off home to Jo, the children, and the great Sanatorium in the Welsh mountains. Sighing deeply, he knocked out his pipe on the balcony railing and turned inside to go to bed. PART XII The following day, Jacynth and her effects moved by taxi - a terrifying journey to Jacynth, who’d never experienced such mayhem on the roads before - to the quiet street near the Conservatoire. She spent some hours unpacking, and then decided to find the nearest shops. She hesitated over asking Madame, but there was no response from that lady when she tapped on the open door opposite her own, so she set off into the street, firmly clasping her bag containing what seemed like a fortune in French francs under her arm. Reaching a corner, she turned into a bigger street than her own and almost at once found herself in front of an épicerie. This would be her first real test! Taking a deep breath, she squared her shoulders and entered the shop. Half an hour later, still blushing from the compliments of the épicier, she emerged burdened with not one, but two large straw baskets containing “but everything Mademoiselle will need”, even to the extent of Monsieur Henri having sent his small son to the next-door boulangerie for a fresh long loaf of crusty bread. There was soap, soup, fruit, vegetables, bread, and a piece of meat that Jacynth rather thought might be horse - it looked a bit tough and smelled slightly odd, but it had been very kind of Madame Henri to insist that as the boucherie had closed early, and Mademoiselle was expecting a guest, she must certainly have some meat. The soup wasn’t canned, as it would have been in England, but sloshing around in an corked earthenware jar, freshly-made and ladled still steaming from the pot into the jar. Back in her new abode, Jacynth hummed a theme from the Chopin she’d heard the night before as she stowed her groceries away. She had begun to grill the nameless meat when she heard a knock on her new front door. Hastening to open it, she heard an odd clanking sound from the other side, which was explained when she opened the door to be confronted by Jack Maynard, bearing a huge tin bath before him! “What on earth...?” and Jacynth sank to the floor, helpless with giggles. “I thought you could make good use of it - I saw you measuring up that sink yesterday!” and Jack grinned. Discretion being the best part of valour and all that, he’d decided to continue treating Jacynth as the almost-child she thought he saw her as. Jacynth, still giggling, enthroned herself in the bath. “Well, I don’t know where you found it - I asked Monsieur Henri at the épicerie this afternoon and he said things like this are still impossible to get - metal was used for such important things during the War that even now things like baths and cars are scarce - but I’m certainly grateful, Jack!” PART XIII After the meal Jacynth produced from the ingredients she had, even Jack couldn’t complain that she might starve on her own. Eventually, he stretched and rose from the armchair, looking down at Jacynth, curled up in her new bath with a couple of cushions. “Well, old lady, this is goodbye - for now! It’s after nine already and nobody around here knows you yet, so I don’t want to get les Anglaises talked about. I’m at the hotel for the rest of the week, and I’ll look in on you before I go home. OK?” Jacynth scrambled up. “Oh, yes, Jack, everything will be fine! I have to audition the day after tomorrow to see who will be my cello tutor, so I’ll be busy. Thank you for all your help, and especially for the bath!” Her usually-serious face wreathed with a smile, Jacynth saw her guest to the door, then returned to her unusual couch. ** Gay had returned to the Savoy with renewed determination after Hawk’s brief visit. No comment had been made regarding her “sick day”, for which she was grateful. In fact, Monsieur, knowing from his own distant experience how close to breaking she must have come, had been pleased someone had taken a hand in making this stubborn petite fille rest. She did indeed return to the “hot water and soda hell”, but not for long. On the following Monday, as Gay was crossing the main kitchen to “her” sinks, she heard an imperious voice. “Mademoiselle!” Knowing this could only mean her, as she was the only female in the great kitchens, she stopped. “Yes, Mademoiselle, you! Come ‘ere!” Monsieur did not bother with politeness. Gay stood in front of the great chef’s desk, at which he was writing a draft of the menus for that day. “Yes, Monsieur?” Inwardly quaking, as he was far more terrifying than either Miss Annersley or Miss Wilson had been in earlier days, she nevertheless looked directly at the big blond man who held her future in his hands. PART XIV “Mademoiselle, I ‘ave been watching you. You ‘ave worked ‘ard, wiz no complaints. You know, you are ze first young woman I ‘ave ‘ad in my kitchen, and I ‘ad many ozzers complain when you start. But you ‘ave not complain. Zat is what I want in my kitchen, ‘ard workers not complainers.” He grimaced, then shot her a look. “Well? You ‘ave nozzing to say?” Gay couldn’t have spoken just then if her life had depended on it. Monsieur had noticed her? He was pleased with her? She felt as if her flabber couldn’t have been more gasted. She shook her head. “Good! You know when to be quiet, as well. Today, you do not go to ze sink. Today you go to André, ‘e is on vegetables, and ‘e will show you ‘ow I like zem.” If Gay had thought that vegetables would be less hard work than dishwashing, she was soon rudely disillusioned. Even the great kettles were not as heavy as the hessian bags of potatoes André made her lug around, although what she termed to herself “honest dirt” was better than the grease on some of the pots. However, she felt she was learning. André did expect her to do most of the heavy lifting (what had happened to the idea of the chivalrous Frenchman, she wondered), but he was unexpectedly patient in not only demonstrating what to do with the vegetables, but explaining why they were prepared in different ways at different times, and what the end uses would be. She found, from watching the two male apprentices working alongside her in the vegetable prep area, that André was as patient with them as he was with herself. Of course, both of them had spent longer at the Savoy than she had, but she soon realised that both her Cordon Bleu experience and Frau Mieders had given her a few tricks that neither of them possessed. Unusually for insouciant Gay, she was diffident about advancing her tips to the pair, but about a week after she’d begun on “Veg” she couldn’t bear to watch the laboured way Joe was trimming radishes any longer, and said, “I say! If you don’t mind my saying so, I was taught another way that you might find quicker,” and paused. “Yersss?” Even such a very non-committal response encouraged her. Apart from Monsieur and now André, this was the first time she had spoken with anyone in the kitchens, and for a soul as gregarious as hers, it had been torture. “Well, if you do this -“ and she seized a radish and demonstrated, “you can do two in the same time, and they come out the exact same way.” Joe looked from her face down to her hands manipulating the knife and the radish, then back at her face. “Whaddya know!” and he tried it for himself. Smiling at the result, he continued his task, while Gay returned quietly to her endless potatoes. Joe might not have said ‘thank you’, but he was now twice as quick as before. The following morning, she found she didn’t have to lug her first bag of potatoes - it was sitting on the bench waiting for her, and the stitching had been slit so all she had to do was reach inside.

Author:	Sophoife [ Fri Nov 24, 2006 12:47 pm ]
Post subject:
PART XV Although little chat was exchanged between Gay, Joe and Dave, she found her work becoming more enjoyable. She watched carefully as Dave, the most senior of the three, cooked vegetables under the direction of André, but always ensured that her hands never stopped peeling, slicing, or chopping as required. Joe always seemed to find time to fetch her next bag of potatoes, and she found her knives were always sharp; seeing Dave one day sharpening his own and Joe’s, she guessed whence that small favour had come. All the time, she was watching and learning. “Gosh!” she thought to herself. “And I had the cheek to think I could cook! Why, that luscious thing Monsieur’s just plating up would have taken me three hours, and it still wouldn’t have looked like that!” ** Meanwhile, Jacynth was busy with her studies. She and Gay exchanged letters at least once a week, and often sent each other’s letters on to the third of their former triumvirate, Gill Culver. Gill, studying hard, was the proud possessor of a typewriter, and she always made a carbon of her letters to either girl, forwarding the same to the other. As Gay said to Hawk when he surprised her one day reading a carbon, it made sense, because it saved them all some time, they were all very busy, and this way they all kept up with each other’s news - although whoever received Gill’s carbon had often had some work to do in deciphering the sense among the many crossings-out that occur when someone is only a beginning typist. Hawk seemed to be able to travel up to London on a surprisingly frequent basis, and usually made a point of “dropping in” on Gay. He explained that he had to give regular reports to his boss, and that Eddie rarely read letters as he assumed they were all bills, and simply forwarded them on to his man at Coutts’. It was after this gentleman had contacted Hawk regarding something in his second written report that he had suggested that Mr Culver might be better reporting verbally to Captain Campbell-Black. A regular fortnightly meeting was arranged, and although some were very short, some extended to dinner, as Eddie found certain aspects of Hawk’s character very much in keeping with his own tastes, and was keen to know that young man better. It was after one of these dinners with Eddie that Hawk arrived at Gay’s somewhat the worse for wear. Although he didn’t explain to Gay, the dinner had been with several other Army men, and the talk had been of their experiences during the late war. Having dropped into open-mouthed snoring in front of Gay, he was properly embarrassed the next morning. “Gosh, though, you were funny! One second you were blinking at me like an owl, trying to thank me for letting you stay, the next your head was back, your mouth was open, and you were snoring like - like a grampus!” Gay spoke in her usual clarion tones as she made coffee, the aroma of which was making Hawk feel distinctly queasy. He clutched his head, groaned, and staggered back to the sofa on which he had involuntarily spent the night. Gay departed for work, leaving a note for Hawk: ‘Dry toast and black coffee, that’s what you need! All the doings are in the kitchen, and if you’re still here when I get home tonight, I’ll see you then!’ Reading this later in the day, Hawk grimaced. Gay was treating him as if she were his elder sister! PART XVI Eddie was certainly an amusing host, but Hawk wasn’t sure he wanted to experience an evening of that type again. The guests had all been male, they had certainly discussed their war experiences, but it was after dinner that he had become uncomfortable, and hence had drunk more than he cared to. Dinner had been in Eddie’s Mess, but afterwards the group of young men had piled into two well-preserved pre-war sports cars, and careered off to “paint London Town red”. It was the establishment at which they had arrived that had discomposed Hawk, a basically decent young man. The house had appeared unremarkable from the outside, but after the group had been admitted by a butler, it became obvious that all was not as it seemed. The entrance hall was softly lit, and their hostess, although beautifully dressed, made up, and coiffed, had seemed a bit “off”. Her welcome was just a little too warm, her décolletage a little too low, and her accent a little too careful for her to be what she appeared. When she escorted the party through a pair of doors to what should have been a drawing-room, all became clear to Hawk. The “drawing-room” was decorated with a large number of attractive young ladies, none of whose charms were hidden. Unless you classed the diaphanous wisps of lace and chiffon draped about them as clothes. Hawk, certainly not an innocent when it came to matters physical, had nonetheless never been in a place like this. It made him very, very uncomfortable. These were most definitely not “decent” women. Nor would their undoubted charms come at a price he could afford. He performed the best and fastest ‘about face’ of his life, only to run slap into Eddie, already with a girl on each arm. Forced to remain by both common politeness to his host and the exigencies of the employer-employee relationship, Hawk had settled for drinking as the lesser of two evils. PART XVII Too embarrassed to face Gay after what she’d said about his behaviour, Hawk ensured that he had departed for Penscombe before she returned from work. Gay was both persistent and perceptive sometimes, and he was jolly well not going to spill any beans about the previous evening! If he’d only known, Gay was not at all surprised when she arrived home to an empty house; she had now been in the kitchens at the renowned hostelry for nearly four months. Although Monsieur had not addressed another word to her since he’d sent her to André, others of the staff were by no means as unforthcoming, and she heard a lot of gossip from the waiting and chamber staff either at meals or (in the case of the waiters) as they passed. It appeared that Captain Eddie was what the estimable Miss Heyer would have called a roué, and a notorious one at that. It also appeared that he did not confine his attentions to ladies of his own class, or indeed to those who offered themselves in the name of Love alone. One of the Savoy waiters’ sisters was in fact an ornament of the establishment in which Hawk had found himself, an ornament of whom her brother was very proud. He was always full of what Sylvie had said, and apparently Sylvie had been much struck by the beaky chap Captain Eddie had brought in who looked as if he was wishing ever so he wasn’t there. Sylvie’s Madam, on the other hand, had apparently been much struck by the amount of alcohol said beaky chap had put away, and was in fact considering either charging an even more outrageous price than she already did for drink, or watering the drink down even further, as if the Captain was going to bring many like that, she’d be destitute within weeks. “Or so Syl said ‘s morning!” had finished up Frank. PART XVIII Gay toyed with the idea of dropping hints to Hawk relating to Frank, Sylvie, and their respective penchants for gossip, but instead regaled both Gill and Jacynth with the tale, enjoining them to strict secrecy. Gill thought it hilarious and was only restrained from sharing the joke with the rest of her family by the thought that Hawk was actually her brother, older than her, and still probably quite likely to take a riding-crop to her if she went that far. Jacynth in her quieter way was also amused, but it was now nearing Christmas and she, eager to return to London, was anxiously eyeing the weather. She had no real desire to cross the Channel in a winter gale, but this year it looked as if the gales would hold off until January. Well, that was what the shipping company told her every time she “just happened to be passing” - three or four times a day in the last three days before she was due to sail! She had had a successful term, missing Gay badly at first, but soon losing herself in her music again. Her cello tutor had once played for Saint-Saëns, and had been complimented on his performance of that composer’s The Swan. Her composition tutor was a White Russian who had, in his salad days, studied in St Petersburg and Moscow, and loved to tell anecdotes about the great Russian composers now, sadly, heard less and less in the West. He had been able to bring a surprising amount of sheet music to Paris with him, and Jacynth was being exposed to such music as she had never experienced before. PART XIX The RCM was a great school, known all over the world, but it was to the Paris Conservatoire that the Russians had gone. Something in their national character appealed to Jacynth - the melancholy, perhaps. Her tutor, however, was Pierre Fournier. Just returned from a tour of the United States to universal acclaim, he had been in charge of the cello class in Paris since 1941. His concert career before the war had been stellar, and it was feared by many of his students that they would soon lose their beloved teacher to the concert stage once again. He was recording for EMI, and would be travelling to London over the Christmas period himself. Having the opportunity to hear many of the great musicians of the day, Jacynth was listening to Maître Fournier one day, and thought, ‘Listening to Casals I realize his humanity and deep concentration on the essence of the works he thought to be, but Fournier always has me consider again how beautiful the works are.’ Another of her tutors was Maurice Maréchal, another Frenchman, of an older generation again than Fournier. The two men’s styles were very different, but Jacynth knew she was learning from both. She felt the music, much as she hoped Maître Fournier did, and although she’d sometimes been castigated in London for sacrificing technique in favour of expression, she hadn’t heard that criticism here. PART XX “Mademoiselle!” the imperious voice stopped Gay in her tracks as she was returning to her station after delivering a bowl of fancifully-cut Brussels sprouts to one of the sous-chefs. She turned. “Yes Monsieur?” “Come ‘ere!” which was unnecessary as she was by now in front of Monsieur. “You are working ‘ard still, I see. In ze New Year you will begin wiz ze saucier.” Gay nodded, smiled, and thanked the kitchen’s despot. She waited to see if he would say anything else, but he was already embroiled in a telephone conversation that consisted largely of him shouting, with hardly a space for the other party to breathe, let alone interrupt. She took her unspoken dismissal and returned to the veg. At home that night, Gay hugged herself. Sauces! Why, Joe had been at the Savoy for a year before she’d started, and he was still on veg. That Joe was happy on veg and had no ambitions to rise higher didn’t occur to her. She made a pot of tea and went up to the sitting room, where she turned on the wireless before lighting the fire and settling to her new book, Georgette Heyer’s latest, Arabella. The charming Miss Tallant and resourceful Beaumaris kept Gay entranced, and it wasn’t until she heard the BBC announcer say “Fournier” that she put the book down. “...Fournier, who will be performing in recital for the BBC on 29th December at 8.15pm. Monsieur Fournier will be in London for some weeks while recording, and has been invited to give a recital class at the Royal College of Music.” Suddenly Gay was very excited. Surely with Jacynth a former RCM student and currently studying with Maître Fournier in Paris, the two of them would be able to get into the class. She decided to be suddenly taken with some sort of tummy-bug that would preclude her from working with food for 24 hours, just long enough to enjoy the day. ** In Paris, Jacynth was feeling very far from excited. A chance conversation with Maître Fournier had revealed the coincidence of both master and pupil being in London at the same time. If Gay had only known, she would have no trouble getting into the class. Maître had told Jacynth that he expected her to be there, and moreover to fully participate – she was to be his – ‘ow you say it – ‘amster? PART XXI Momentarily puzzled, Jacynth laughed, albeit a little shakily, as her face cleared in understanding. “Mais non, Maître, en anglais on dit ‘guinea-pig’.” “Guinea-pig, qu’est-ce que c’est?” but Jacynth hadn’t studied zoology so was unable to give more of an explanation than “hairier than a hamster”. Still lacking in self-confidence, she was appalled at the prospect of being taught in public. Oh yes, Maître had said it would be just like an ordinary lesson, but how could it be? With people just waiting to criticise – including her former teachers! All of a sudden the shipping office was not her favourite place to call. In fact she hoped the weather would be too bad for her to sail. Sadly for Jacynth, December 23rd dawned cold but clear, and she arrived at the station in good time for the boat-train. Cherry safely stowed in the guard’s van, her prettily-accented French having charmed the guard into promising to keep a specially good eye on the precious cello, Jacynth retraced her steps to the compartment in which her seat had been booked. The compartment was occupied by a young woman with two girls, both of whom immediately leaped up. “Auntie Jacynth! Auntie Jacynth!” and Jacynth was staggered by the onslaught of her brevet-nieces, Anne and her own namesake. PART XXII Laughingly disentangling herself after kissing both girls, Jacynth turned to Ruth Lambert. “What on earth...? Ruth, what are you and the girls doing here?” Ruth kissed her cheerfully and sat back down, removing her hat. “We’re coming home for Christmas. Tommy’s had to fly to the Far East at short notice, so we decided rather than being lonely in Germany, we’d come home to the family in England. And as for being in the same compartment – for I’m guessing this is yours as well – that appears, my dear, to be sheer coincidence!” “Oh, cheers! Where are you staying? With us, I hope! It’ll be a squeeze but we should manage it. Just!” and Jacynth in her turn sat down, having now managed to stow her overnight case in the luggage rack above. “We-ell, that’s the next question! We didn’t find out until yesterday morning that we had seats on the train, and Tommy left three days ago, and I couldn’t get a call through to Gay. I sent her a telegram, so I hope it’ll all work out!” and the small family party settled down to catch up on what Jacynth had learned to call “the hanes” at school. Jacynth Gabrielle, as she’d been known as a baby, was a human question-mark and, now that she’d reached the age of seven and the inconvenience of her first lost baby teeth, a little hard to understand as she had developed what Jacynth the elder privately characterised as ‘a whopping lisp’. It appeared that Jacynth the younger now styled herself “Jack” as it was easier for her to pronounce successfully at the moment, and she asked her brevet-aunt if she would “mind awf’lly if I called you Auntie Jack”. Smothering a giggle, Jacynth solemnly suggested that since her only other aunts were Auntie Gay and Auntie Gill, why didn’t she try saying “Auntie Jay” because otherwise she’d end up getting confused with Jack-herself, Jack-her-auntie, and Jack-Auntie-Gill’s-brother, at which simple sally both young girls shrieked with laughter. Sighing a little, Ruth suggested they both be a little more quiet, as there were other people on the train who might think theirs was a compartment full of hyenas. This only resulted in Jack the question-mark demanding to know what was a hyena, and Ruth, whose zoological knowledge was little broader than Jacynth’s, being forced to promise a trip to the London Zoo after Christmas. Pacified by this, young Jack settled in her seat somewhat, looking out of the window at France, and muttering “Auntie Gay” and “Auntie Jay” in turn. PART XXIII Jacynth had originally intended to travel by the night ferry train service, but had not been able to secure a sleeping berth for any of the nights between the end of her term and Christmas, so had booked on the Flèche d’Or. Ruth explained that she and the girls had travelled from Cologne in a somewhat roundabout fashion, involving an overnight train through Switzerland for some unknown [to both Ruth and the author] reason. She had been hoping the girls would sleep but both had been too excited – “and you can see why if the RAF has space available, I prefer to fly!” she wound up. “Poor old Ruthans! Sounds like you need a nap, rather than the girls!” was Jacynth’s response. She got up, retrieved Ruth’s travelling rug from the luggage rack, and produced an item from the side pocket of her own overnight case that proved to be an air-cushion after she spent some minutes blowing into a small valve let into one corner of it. “Now look, if you lie down with your head towards the corridor, I’ll close the blind above your head, and you’ll be all snug and cosy. I’ll look after the girls, and they’ll be as good as gold,” as she attempted her long-unused Head Girl’s Glare in their direction, “Won’t you?” The Glare seemed to have an effect, however diluted, as both girls quickly piped up a promise to be good. Making only a token protest, Ruth removed her shoes and lay down, and was asleep within a couple of minutes. Meanwhile, Jacynth had both girls on her side of the compartment and was talking quietly of Paris. PART XXIV A few hours later, Ruth opened her eyes as she heard the compartment door sliding open. Looking up, she found Jacynth smilingly offering her a damp hand-towel to clean off the marks left by the soft coal used on European trains. “We’re almost to Calais, the girls have been unfledged angels, and you look better for the rest!” Sitting up, Ruth agreed that indeed she felt much better, and looked for the girls. Both were sitting at the window end, as clean as Jacynth could get them, with gloves and hats on, clasping their satchels on their laps. Ruth smiled, and retrieved a comb from her bag to tidy her hair, using the window as a mirror. Within ten minutes, the little party alighted from the train and was walking briskly in the December air towards the gangplank of the Calais-Dover ferry. Jack, as usual, was full of questions, and Jacynth took her in hand while Ruth walked ahead with Anne, probably just as curious but hiding it better. One question Jacynth was surprised not to get was that of why they had to get off the train and walk to the ferry. So surprised was she that in fact she asked young Jack why that hadn’t been one of her questions. “You see, when I went to Paris to start my new music school, the carriage I got into in London was the same one I got out of in Paris. The overnight trains actually put the carriages on a special ferry so although I got off the train to stretch my legs, all my things stayed on. When the guard came round before and told us to remember to take everything with us, I was surprised, and asked him why, and he told me. So I thought you might want to know as well. But you didn’t! Why not?” Jack grinned, presenting the full glory of the gaps caused by no less than three missing front teeth, and said, “Well, I th’pothed it wath normal, I th’pothe.” Then Jacynth’s words sank in properly. “But I thay! D’you mean to thay there’th a thpecial ferry and the whole train goeth on it?” Laughing, Jacynth realised she’d let herself in for yet more questions. “All the carriages and the luggage van, yes, but the engine stays on its own side of the Channel.” They had by now reached their ferry and could see Ruth and Anne already seated in a sheltered nook. Jack essayed another question. “But thith ferry’th huge! However big’th the train one?” “Well, it only has the train carriages on it, not a whole lot of cabins and lounges like this one, so it’s not much bigger than this. Now pipe down, infant! I need a rest!” and Jacynth flopped into a chair next to Ruth. Ten-year-old Anne, realising both her mother and her brevet-aunt now needed to rest, if only mentally, drew Jack to her and told her something that was virtually guaranteed to keep her quiet. If the two girls could be very good and very quiet and not disturb Mummy and Auntie Jacynth (despite her braces, Anne had no problems with her sibilants) for as long as it took Anne to read Jack a chapter of their story-book, Mummy had promised they would be allowed to accept the invitation she had received from the ferry’s master to go up to the bridge. Jack’s eyes rounded, as did her mouth. “O-o-o-ooh!” and she promptly sat down next to Anne, retrieving William - the Fourth from her satchel. PART XXV Even Miss Jack couldn’t keep completely quiet for as long as it took Anne to relate the chapter, but she tried hard. Eventually, Ruth sat up, smiled at the girls, and said that since they’d been so kind as to let her and Auntie Jacynth both rest quietly, she would now tell the steward they were ready to accept the ferry master’s kind invitation. The steward who responded to her summons grinned and offered to take the girls himself, as he was sure “Mum’d be more comfy with a nice cup o’ beef tea right ‘ere, an’ they’ll be OK along o’ me!” He whisked away, returning with a little tray on which were not only two cups of warming beef tea, but Bath Olivers as well. Winking, he held out his hands to the girls, and off they went, Jack’s voice already raised in questions. Anne grimaced back over her shoulder, and both Ruth and Jacynth laughed. The girls were kept busy for the whole crossing, which was remarkably calm, at least to Jacynth, who had been remembering her first Channel crossing and slightly dreading this one. Disembarking at Dover, having reclaimed her daughters, Ruth led the way to the train, which she explained to her daughters was called the Golden Arrow on this side of the Channel. Jacynth laughed. “It’s the Golden Arrow both sides, Ruth! What was the train called you came on from Germany?” “I don’t know, I’m sure! But what do you mean, Golden Arrow both sides? In Cologne, when I booked, they called it something like Fish Door!” “Flèche d’Or – it’s French and means the same thing – flèche meaning arrow, and d’or meaning of gold. Golden Arrow, you see?” “What it is to speak French! Would you like me to talk Chinese at you? You’d be as lost as I was in France, and when I first got to Germany! You know, when we first got to Germany, I wished like anything I’d been able to go to that Chalet School of yours – it would have been jolly useful! I think it’s the only time I’ve ever wished that!” and Ruth grinned. She’d had quite enough adventures of her own, thank you, and had never really desired the Chalet School’s levels of alarums and excursions! She remembered all too well Gay’s nocturnal flight from Armishire, and had heard plenty of the School’s legends. In fact, if Tommy was still posted in Germany when the girls grew old enough for boarding school, she wasn’t too sure she wanted them, particularly Jack, anywhere near such a drama-magnet of a school! PART XXVI Eventually the little party arrived in London, the two little girls by now very weary, and Jack in particular inclined to be fractious. After all, they’d been travelling for nearly 36 hours. Arriving at Victoria, Ruth looked around for a porter, only to have Gay appear from nowhere with one in tow, chattering nineteen to the dozen. “I only got your telegram when I was leaving for work this morning – it’ud slipped under the rug when I opened the front door last night! But not to worry, I took it with me, and explained to the second chef that I’d need some time to sort out the house on such short notice. He said if I worked Christmas Eve and Boxing Day, I could have today and Christmas Day off! I was so pleased I just scurried out of there, before anyone could stop me. Anyway the beds are all sorted, the kids are in Gill’s room and Ruth you’ve got mine, I’ve put the camp bed up in yours for me, Jac!” and distributing kisses indiscriminately, Gay led the way to the taxi rank, where the porter assisted them in loading up the luggage, and five females shocked the cabbie by all removing their hats once inside. They were whirled away into the pre-Christmas crowds, and eventually arrived at the girls’ house. Anne and Jack both had to be almost carried up the stairs to their temporary abode, and it is on record that both girls were fully asleep before they’d been tucked into bed. The three elders of the party decamped to the sitting room, where Gay pushed Ruth into a corner of the sofa and Jacynth into an armchair, before disappearing kitchen-wards. She was navigating the doorway back, burdened with a huge tray, when the front doorbell rang. Shouting “I’ll be there in a tick!” she deposited the tray in the sitting room before flying down to the front door. The two left to fend for themselves in the sitting room gazed appreciatively at the contents of the tray – real milky coffee, piping-hot slices of ham, mustard, tiny crispy potatoes dripping with butter, and a richly plummy fruitcake, while listening to Gay’s clarion tones floating up from the front entry. “What? But I’ve got a houseful – Ruth and the girls are here, not to mention Jacynth! Oh well, it can’t be helped – the more the merrier, I suppose – come on in then!” and then Gay’s footsteps were heard bounding up to the sitting room once more. “I’ll need to grab another set of crocks, it seems we’ve yet another unexpected guest!” at which she winked at Ruth and disappeared again, leaving Ruth open-mouthed at her cheek and both she and Jacynth still mystified. PART XXVII In fact Gay had barely returned to the sitting room before the unexpected guest appeared, and it was as she was pouring out the tea that the door opened once more and Hawk Culver put his head round it. “Room for a little one, as Gay would say?” he enquired, inserting the rest of his frame into the room and making a bee-line for the fireplace. Ruth laughed. “Little? Hawk Culver, you’re a positive giant! What brings you here? – Oh, we heard Gay at the front door, but she hasn’t had time to explain.” “I’ve stopped off for supplies, as I’m on the way home for Christmas, and it seems I can’t collect most of them until tomorrow, so I came to beg a mattress for the night, but it appears I’ll have to doss down on the sofa instead! Lucky it’s a long one! – Thanks, Gay!” as he accepted a cup of tea and chose the largest piece of fruit cake from the plate he was offered. * * * * * * The little house was, indeed, full to the brim, and the next morning saw a picnic breakfast being taken by the little girls in the sitting room, while their elders sat round the kitchen table. Ruth carried the girls’ tray to the sitting room, Anne promised to ensure Jack didn’t spill anything, and Ruth returned to the kitchen. “Oo-oof! That sofa might be long, but it’s not long enough!” yawned Hawk as he stretched his arms above his head. “And then those young elephants of yours started bouncing around, Ruth!” Ruth just laughed. “Should have been up earlier then! More porridge?” as she dolloped her own bowl full. “No, thanks! I can just about abide one bowl without sugar, but two? Pity everything decent’s still on the ration! Except water, of course!” and he poured himself another glass. * * * * * * After breakfast the little girls were fascinated to see Hawk’s Jeep, and were indulgently treated to a trip up the road and back before he had to depart. “Gosh, Mummy! It was just like being at home!” and then Anne’s eyes welled up with tears. She missed her father very much, and was old enough to understand that if the RAF felt her father had to be away from home at Christmas, he could be in danger. PART XXVIII Anne’s tears soon dried and although her mother was graver than usual, the little family had a lovely Christmas, enlivened by Gay’s production of her present from work – an enormous cabbage carved into a reasonable likeness of her by Joe and Dave! Jacynth was quiet, as usual, but her grey eyes danced as she noted the really remarkable coincidence that a cabbage should look like Auntie Gay – young Jack hadn’t quite grasped the concept correctly. On the evening of Christmas Day, the little girls went to bed at eight, tired from excitement and too many giggles and stuffed full of as much good food as could be “scared up” by their elders. Hawk had left some game he’d brought up from Penshurst, as taking it home would be “like taking coals to Newcastle” in his words, and in lieu of a monetary Christmas bonus, the kitchen staff at the Savoy had all been given vegetables and fruit. Jacynth was in the sitting room, playing softly while Gay and Ruth relaxed on the sofa, both listening with closed eyes. After twenty minutes or so, Gay jumped up suddenly and announced she was making tea. After her departure for the kitchen, Ruth looked at Jacynth. “So it still upsets her?” Jacynth nodded. Her eyes were troubled. “She tries not to let me see it, but I can tell – after all it was she who first introduced me to the ‘cello, and I know how much she loves her music. I just wish...” “If wishes were horses beggars would ride, as Nanny used to say!” Ruth smiled. “Still, it is hard for her, and I’m proud of her for putting such a brave face on. Although he would never say so to her face, so is Tommy,” and she looked troubled. “Oh, Ruth, I know it’s hard having him away at this time of year – but you said he’ll be back the second week in January, didn’t you?” “Yes. But I am rather concerned – it seems that the officer he had to go out and replace wasn’t ill at all – he’d been abducted and turned up yesterday, badly beaten. There are some locals who don’t approve, either of the King or his officers. I heard this from the Wing Commander’s wife – the woman you saw greet me outside Harrods yesterday.” PART XXIX Jacynth looked grave. “Should she have said anything to you? Obviously nobody in officialdom had!” Ruth nodded. “You’re right. Nobody had told me about poor Dickie – Squadron Leader Gosling – but it now seems that everyone else in the Wing knew he’d been abducted and that Tommy’s job was not only to continue Dickie’s liaison role with the local bigwigs, but also to try and get Dickie back! I suppose nobody told me because they didn’t want to worry me – and poor Mrs Wing Commander looked as if she’d lost a pound and found tuppence when she realised I hadn’t known, and probably wasn’t supposed to know.” Gay’s return to the sitting room was announced by a thumping at the door, as of a foot trying to push the door open without success due to the latch having closed. Jacynth jumped up and opened the door, and Gay almost overbalanced into the room. “Tea’s up! – Why, what are you two looking so serious about?” Jacynth knew it wasn’t her place to tell Gay that her beloved brother could be in such danger, and looked mutely at Ruth. Ruth took the tray from Gay and set it on the low table. After she’d poured a cup of tea for each of them, she sat back. “Well, Gay, it’s like this. It seems that Tommy might be in some danger. I heard – accidentally – yesterday that Dickie Gosling had actually been abducted by disaffected locals, and that Tommy had gone out to replace him in the negotiations as well as help look for him, and that Dickie had turned up alive, but badly beaten. It seems that King’s officers aren’t the most popular of people in Malaya.” “What?! That just stinks, Ruthans! When you think of all the men who fought out there, not so long ago, either, and how much they suffered...” “I know, darling. It does seem a little – ungrateful – but all we can do realistically is pray that now Dickie has been found, Tommy can conclude the negotiations quickly and fly back here as soon as possible. I’ll try to put a call through tomorrow, if I may...?” “You can use our ‘phone as much as you like! What beasts! Poor old Dickie!” and Gay subsided into a corner of the sofa, muttering balefully from time to time. **** The next morning Ruth was as good as her word. She booked a call to the Wing Commander’s office back in Germany. When it eventually came through, that gentleman’s secretary-WAAF was genuinely sympathetic, but unable to give much information, as the Wing Commander himself was on Christmas leave in England. Nor would she provide a contact number in Kuala Lumpur for Tommy. She did however promise to use the RAF’s radio systems to relay a message to Tommy himself, asking him to contact his wife urgently at his sister’s home. “You see I can’t really give any numbers, national security you know, I’m sure you understand. You say he does know his sister’s number? Well, then I’m sure the Squadron Leader will be in touch just as soon as he gets this message. Although you must realise that overseas calls can take some time to come through.” “Thank you,” said Ruth politely, and disconnected the call. Turning to Gay, she said, “Well, it’s obvious she went to a Veddy Good School, and is a Veddy Nice Gel, Utterly Suitable, but I wish she had a little more of the milk of human kindness flowing through her veins! Now we’ll just have to wait – and you’d better get off to work!” Not at all eager to leave the house, Gay protested, but was over-ridden. As she walked into the kitchen entrance of the Savoy, she could smell the mixture of aromas that announced “Monsieur’s kitchen”, and decided she might as well make the best of things. PART XXX Indeed, as it was Boxing Day, Gay didn’t have time enough to worry about Tommy as the hotel was full, there was a ball at which Royalty would be present that evening, and Joe was off sick – André himself had sent him home – so Gay had to do the work of two. At home, Ruth bundled the two little girls up and took them to the Zoo, hiding her own fears in her scarf. It was so cold that all of them were wrapped up like Arctic explorers. Even Miss Anne perked up, although it must be said that young Jack was the one who most truly enjoyed the day. Jacynth was left alone; she had been invited to the Zoo, but had explained to the little girls that she had some very hard practising to do, as she would be having a specially difficult lesson on Friday. Both had accepted this explanation, as Anne had started music lessons and was conscientiously practising for fifteen minutes twice a day. She settled to her cello and soon lost herself in the music, only to be rudely dragged back to reality by a shrill noise. It came again, and she realised it was the ‘phone. Laying down her instrument, she rose and headed for the door, only to stop. What if...? She wasn’t sure she was strong enough to face the bad news they were all afraid of. Then the words her Auntie Mary had written to her came back: Whatever happens, keep close to God. When you grow up, you will meet people who scoff at Him and any belief in Him. Don't be led by them. He is there, whatever silly people may say. When things get very hard, He is the one help on which you can rely without hesitation. The most loving of human friends may fail us sometimes, but He never will. His plans for us may seem hard sometimes; but try to remember that He knows best, and that He loves us more than any human being can do. Things will come right in time, even if it seems a long time, if we will only trust to Him. I know that from my own experience. At this very moment I am relying on Him, and leaning on Him with all my weight. I couldn't write this letter to you so happily if it were not for Him. Heartened, she went to answer the insistent ‘phone.

Author:	Mrs Redboots [ Fri Nov 24, 2006 1:08 pm ]
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Great to see this back - and looking forward to further updates soon!

Author:	Lesley [ Sat Nov 25, 2006 10:46 pm ]
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Lovely to read through this again. Thanks.

Author:	Cath V-P [ Sun Nov 26, 2006 2:38 am ]
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Thanks for this; i've just had a most refreshing catch-up.

Author:	Miranda [ Sun Nov 26, 2006 5:40 am ]
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This is lovely! And I do like Hawk Thanks.

Author:	Sophoife [ Sun Nov 26, 2006 3:50 pm ]
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Back from Sydney. Hyoooge blisters on both feet - not the heels but the balls, which are making it a tad difficult to walk with any ease, but hey! they're only temporary. The ballet was excellent - anyone interested can PM for more details - programme was Les Sylphides, Le Spectre de la rose, Schéhérazade. Next trip will be Don Quixote in the New Year, then Matthew Bourne's male Swan Lake (can't wait!!). PART XXXI At ten o’clock in the evening of that Boxing Day Tuesday, Gay looked up at André. “Do you think we might be nearly finished?” He grinned. “Per’aps. You ‘ave done well today. ‘Aving Christmas Day off ‘as done you good. Did la famille enjoy themselves?” Gay sobered on the instant. “Yes. But we’ve had some worrying news about my brother, and...well I’m just glad I had to work so hard today – I haven’t had to think about it!” André’s eyes softened. He hadn’t fought through the war, but only because he’d lost a foot when shot down in 1940. His brothers had flown with the Free French, though, and he could relate to Gay’s worries. “Vous avez fini pour aujourd’hui. Allez, allez, vite! Before I find somesing else for you to do.” Smiling despite herself, Gay whisked away. ** Gay walked wearily up her street, only noticing the light spilling out of her house as she actually stood in front of the door, fumbling for her key. ‘What on earth’s going on?’ she wondered, as she let herself in. The house was quiet, though every light in the place seemed to be on. Then she heard a scuffling followed by a squeak from the next floor up. PART XXXII Jacynth hung up the ‘phone and returned to the sitting room. She took up her ‘cello again and recommenced the passage she had been working on before being interrupted. Despite the beauty of the Bruch Adagio [commonly known as the Kol Nidrei although its proper title is Op. 47, Adagio on Hebrew Melodies for Violoncello and Orchestra], she was unable to concentrate properly. Sighing, she laid down her instrument once more and went to the kitchen. Perhaps a cup of tea would help? Gillian Culver grasped the tarpaulin more firmly. “Hawk! How much longer?” she yelled over the howling of the wind and the noise of the engine. “Until we’re there, stupid! There’s no point stopping now!” came the reply, flung at her from barely a foot away. The Culvers were heading for London, it was the evening of Boxing Day, and it was freezing. It had been dark since three o’clock, and Gill had been regretting hitching a lift with Hawk in the open Jeep since about half-past three. They’d set off from Culver’s Hold as the murky day slid into darkness, and it hadn’t taken ten minutes for Gill to realise that the blankets and tarpaulin Hawk had insisted she wrap herself in weren’t merely a courteous gesture. The tarp was doing its best to keep the wind out, and the blankets were keeping her from freezing solid, but she vowed to herself she was never, ever going to travel like this again. It would be high June before Hawk would be able to persuade her to re-enter the Jeep, she swore, conveniently forgetting that she had only hitched this lift to London in order to hitch another the following day. It was now just after six, and London too was dark. To Gill’s everlasting gratitude, however, Hawk had had to slow down once he reached the metropolis, and so the last half-hour of their journey was a little more comfortable. They reached the little house, and Hawk pulled up with a squeal of brakes and jumped down. Despite his own stiffness he made as quick a dash as possible round the bonnet, and reached up to help his sister down. She was almost incapable of movement, and he ended up staggering up the steps under her weight. Light suddenly bathed the steps, and Hawk looked up to see Jacynth and Ruth framed by the open door. Gill, too, looked up, and said, “I’ve never been more glad to see anyone in my life!” She struggled to her feet and hopped through the door, looking curiously at Jacynth, who was suddenly very red of face. Ruth shut the door behind the Culvers, and helped Hawk divest Gill of her swaddlings. Jacynth had disappeared in the direction of the kitchen, and strange noises could be heard from that direction. Ruth helped Gill up the stairs, and flung open the bathroom door with a flourish. “Hot bath! Now! And I’ve put your towel, pyjamas and dressing gown in front of the fire, so when you’re ready, just yell and I’ll bring them in.” Gill inched into the water, wincing as her frozen body contacted the steaming water. After ten minutes, she felt as if she might survive – just! – and that she might just need some more hot water. ‘Thank God I’m not still at school!’ she thought as she turned on the hot tap. PART XXXIII As Gill was inching into the hot bath, Hawk was in the kitchen. Jacynth was still spluttering with laughter. She was almost incoherent, but he got the gist of her explanation. Gill had looked like a giant tartan caterpillar, and to crown it all she had had to hop through the door as she was so wound up in blankets and tarpaulin that she couldn’t walk. Eventually even Hawk had to grin. “But what about me? I’m frozen stiff too – thanks for the coffee! – but Gill gets the bath?” Jacynth, laughing even harder, indicated the clothes airer. It had been draped with blankets and was standing about six feet in front of the Aga. Hawk craned his neck, but couldn’t see over or round it. He moved around the table, looked over the top of the makeshift screen, and laughed despite himself. There lay an old-fashioned zinc bath tub, half-full of steaming water. A couple of towels were hanging on the inside of the screen, and an enormous flannel nightshirt of uncertain vintage hung next to the towels. When he looked around, Jacynth had vanished and he was alone in the kitchen. He divested himself of the venerable sheepskin-lined flying suit he was wearing, then several more layers of clothes, and sank gingerly into the hot water. “Aaaaahhhhh...” ** Half an hour later, Hawk heard a knock on the kitchen door, and, craning his head around the edge of the screen, saw two small heads appear as the door opened. “Um, hello? Mr Hawk?” came a small voice. It was immediately overpowered by another, shriller one. “Pleathe hurry up, Mithter Hawk! We’re allowed to thtay up for thupper but we can’t get our thupper till you get out of the bath! An’ I’m tho hungry!” Outraged shushing and some scuffling resulted in the appearance of the whole of a small girl, who said “I’m sorry about Jack, Mr Hawk, but Mummy did ask us to come and see if you were all right.” Jack?? Hawk was momentarily confused. “That’s quite all right, Miss...?” “Anne Lambert. And you’re Auntie Gill’s brother, Mr Hawk.” “...Miss Anne. Yes, but I’m not Mr Hawk. Could you perhaps call me Uncle Hawk? or just Hawk? Anyway, I’ll be out of the bath in two shakes, so if you’d like to let your Mummy know, she’ll be able to use the kitchen in five minutes.” Anne disappeared, and from the sound of things she was dragging the other little girl with her by main force. Grinning, Hawk rose and towelled himself vigorously. Looking round, he realised that the flannel nightshirt was meant for him, as were the socks draped next to it – socks he recognised as his own. A blanket-cloaked vision arrived in the sitting room five minutes later, to the general mirth of the ladies present, both schoolgirls and the more mature. “Where did you find this nightshirt? Not that I’m not grateful because it’s warm as toast, but I do feel odd!” asked Hawk of Jacynth. “We found half a dozen of them ages ago in a trunk in the attic. The flannel’s too good to waste, and several of them have been made over into pyjamas for us, but we kept one for curiosity value, and now it’s come in handy – you wouldn’t fit into any of our pyjamas!” Submitting that this was all too true, Hawk sat in the armchair, careful to preserve his modesty (or conserve his warmth) by judicious draping of his blanket. “Mummy! Thupper!” came from the little girl he’d not officially met yet, and Ruth’s eyes looked heavenward. “I’m terribly sorry about Jack, Hawk! My youngest daughter, Jacynth Gabrielle – Jack, this is Auntie Gill’s brother, Hawk.” with which Ruth and Jacynth left Hawk and Gill alone with the little girls as they went to retrieve the long-awaited supper. PART XXXIV Gill, who was reasonably well-acquainted with both little girls, fell to talking with Anne, leaving Hawk to Jack’s tender mercies. “Why are you wearin’ a dreth?” “It’s a nightshirt, and it’s warm. I was very very cold when your Auntie Gill and I got here.” “But it’th got a thkirt.” “Scotsmen wear skirts – they’re called kilts.” “Are you a Thcotthman?” “No. I’m Auntie Gill’s brother. She’s not from Scotland either.” He flung a despairing look in Gill’s direction. Oblivious, she continued her chat with Anne; they were talking about books and Gill had discovered that her old headmistress and her brevet-niece shared some literary tastes. Young as she was, Anne was already trying her hand at Jane Austen – Sense and Sensibility – and “for when I read with Jack” it was Richmal Crompton’s adventures of William. Gill was earnestly involved in explaining to Anne just why William could be enjoyed at any age, not just when reading with little sisters. “Uncle Hawk! Uncle Hawk!” and his attention was dragged back to the small girl by his side. “If you’re not from Thcotland, where do you come from? An’ do you live with Auntie Gill? Or do you live by yourthelf? An’ do you have any petth? Maybe a dog?” A little nonplussed by the incessant questions, Hawk considered teasing the little girl by teaching her the tongue-twister about seashells and the seashore. Happily for all concerned, Jacynth and Ruth returned at that moment, carrying trays. Once set down, the little girls’ supper proved to be large bowls of bread and milk, with cocoa. That for the adults was somewhat more substantial, and both the Culvers made serious inroads into the food. Warm they now were, but they were both more tired and hungry than they’d realised until food actually made its appearance. The little girls were finally persuaded bedwards, closer to nine o’clock than their usual extended bedtime of eight, and once they’d settled, the four adults remained in the sitting room. It suddenly occurred to Hawk to wonder where his sister would be sleeping – the house had been crowded enough before Christmas, and he’d had to sleep on the sofa himself. Voicing his query, he was greeted with scornful laughter from the same sister about whom he’d expressed such concern. “You’re just scared you’ll have to sleep on the floor cos I’ll have the sofa! Well, no need! You obviously didn’t notice, but stuffed into the back of the Jeep was one of the camp beds from home – Mummy and I thought of that this morning. While we were both bathing, Ruth and Jacynth kindly set it up for me, I’m sharing with Ruth. You’ve still got the sofa all to yourself!” Somewhat shamefaced, for indeed the floor had been featuring largely in his mind, Hawk meekly agreed that his mother and Gill had been more forward-thinking than he. It was just then that the telephone’s bell shrilled out.

Author:	Lesley [ Sun Nov 26, 2006 5:15 pm ]
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Glad you had a good time in Sydney. Really good reading this and refreshing my memory about events. Thanks.

Author:	Dawn [ Sun Nov 26, 2006 6:58 pm ]
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Really enjoying re-reading this - thankyou

Author:	Sophoife [ Tue Nov 28, 2006 10:44 am ]
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Here we are - up to date. Next post will be all new. PART XXXV Ruth Lambert leaped to her feet and rushed to the ‘phone. She didn’t even attempt to close the door behind her, but her would-be auditors were frustrated as after her breathless “Hello! Ruth Lambert speaking!” her part in the conversation consisted of various indrawn breaths, an “I see”, and a “Yes. Thank you. Goodbye.” When ten minutes after ending her call Ruth had still not reappeared in the sitting room, Gay looked at the others. “D’you suppose...?” Gill nodded. “Go to her, Gay. She’ll need you, either way.” Gay stood up, but her move to the door was forestalled by Ruth’s re-entrance. She was breathing more quickly than usual, and her colour was heightened. “That was – that was Tommy’s CO. It seems he wasn’t on Christmas leave in England at all. He – he flew to Kuala Lumpur on Christmas Eve, it took about 36 hours, and – and – Tommy’s been hurt.” She crumpled to the sofa, and buried her face in her hands. She didn’t make a sound, bar those quick, almost wheezing breaths, but her hands were so tensed over her face that her knuckles stood out whitely. It was worse for Gay, to see Ruth that way, than if she had been sobbing her heart out. She reached out for her sister-in-law but was surprised to see Hawk’s hand on her arm. “Girls, listen to me!” he commanded. All four duly looked at him. “Ruth, what did he say about Tommy, exactly? Did he say how he’d been hurt? Or how badly?” Forced to think, Ruth’s tears dried. She lowered her hands, and Jacynth gasped. Ruth looked to have aged ten years in as many minutes. The heightened colour she had had on entering the room had drained away, and her face was chalky-white, with every laugh line now cruelly emphasised. “He – he said – “ she began haltingly. “He said that Tommy had been travelling back to the barracks with the other British negotiating officers – and – there was some kind of explosion. Two of the men were – killed, the others are all in hospital. Tommy – Tommy’s deaf from the explosion, but they hope that’ll wear off soon, he was burnt a little, and his leg was badly broken.” It seemed her worst fears had come true. Tommy had survived the war against the Luftwaffe virtually unscathed, and Ruth knew how many hadn’t. “Burnt a little?” Hawk asked gently. “Ye–yes. The broken leg has burns, and so does a bit of his other – ” but here she could say no more. Tears had been sliding down her face, and now she could no longer hold the sobs back. Gay’s warm arms at once encircled her, and Jacynth’s quiet voice and Gill’s no-nonsense one murmured comfort to the Lamberts. PART XXXVI Hawk left the room and returned a few moments later, juggling glasses and a bottle. He set the glasses down on the mantel and poured a finger of brandy into each glass. Handing a glass to each of the girls, he told them brusquely to drink up, as they’d all had a shock. All four did so, even Ruth managing to hold her tumbler in both hands and shakily drain it. Resting one hand on the mantel, Hawk held up his own glass. “I’ll drink to Tommy – and his speedy recovery,” and acted on his words. Smiling tremulously, Ruth faltered, “D-do you really think he’ll be OK?” “Come on, Ruth, the Wingco must know how long Tommy’s been in the RAF – and that you two’ve been married all that time! He wouldn’t make it out to be less than it is, not to you – he’d know you’d know about blast injuries and the like – how many times did you go and visit that chap at East Grinstead, after all?” Her smile slowly firming, Ruth nodded. “I-I see. You mean, he wouldn’t have rung me at all if Tommy was really bad, he would have got someone over here to come and see me in person. Oh!!!” and with some relief, she sagged back onto the sofa. The other three girls also looked much happier, and Gill crossed to her brother, laying her hand on his arm and murmuring “You’re not half bad, you know!” Smiling down at his sister, Hawk merely told Ruth she’d probably better go up to bed, at which Gay looked up. “I say, Gill, d’you mind awfully if we swap beds for tonight? I’d rather be with Ruth – and I’m sure you and Jac have heaps to talk about anyway!” Gill agreed, and the girls repaired upstairs, leaving Hawk to “shake down” on the sofa. He turned out the lights, leaving the room lit only by the still-healthy glow of the fire, and lay down, finding that a nightshirt, while certainly covering his chest and shoulders, had a rather nasty tendency to ride up and leave his nether regions feeling decidedly chilly, despite two blankets. He wriggled about on the sofa for some minutes, then sighed and stood up, firmly pulled down the nightshirt, and wrapped the blankets about himself, almost papoose-fashion, before once more lying down. **** The next morning, Gay looked around the sitting room door as she headed off to work, and grinned to herself at the vision displayed therein – rolled up in grey blankets, lying on the floor, with only his hair sticking out at one end and a bare foot at the other to show his identity, Hawk had obviously given up the struggle with a too-short sofa at some time during the night. Hawk awoke properly as he heard the front door bang shut, and wondered who’d put him in a straitjacket overnight. He decided that the easiest way to untangle himself was to stand up and catch a trailing corner of blanket underfoot, then wriggle a lot to loosen his cocoon. He was performing this interesting exercise when a small voice said, “Coo! Uncle Hawk! What are you doin’?” He jerked his head – the only part of him that could as yet move freely – around to behold young Jack Lambert, transfixed in the doorway. Behind her was a shadow that was probably Miss Anne, and he groaned to himself. He wasn’t going to live this down in a hurry. “I got stuck in my blankets, and now I can’t get out, never mind how much I wriggle! Would you two like to give me a hand?” Two small girls rushed forward, Jack almost tripping over a trailing dressing-gown cord, and eager little hands pulled at bits of blanket, until Hawk sighed with relief at finally being able to stretch his arms. “Thanks a lot, girls. Now how about some breakfast?” “Ooh, Uncle Hawk! You’re thtill wearin’ that dreth!” and Jack collapsed in peals of laughter. Anne, horrified, tried to hush her, but Hawk grinned. “Don’t worry, Miss Anne, I know I look silly. Now, if we go down to the kitchen, I bet my clothes are dry by now, and I promise you, I make the best porridge this side of Edinburgh!” with which unlikely boast he escorted the two girls from the room. PART XXXVII After breakfast, Hawk took Ruth aside for a brief discussion, following which he and Gill wrapped themselves against the weather and headed off. Jacynth and Ruth were left alone in the house with the little girls. “I’d better get down to some practising, Ruth – will you be OK for a couple of hours?” Jacynth didn’t want to smother Ruth with concern, but she knew she couldn’t let her practising go, even for one day. Ruth smiled. “Of course I will, dear! Jack is one person’s full-time work anyway!” and fled upstairs as the sound of Jack’s protesting voice rose to a level likely to disturb the neighbours. Jacynth settled to her ‘cello, and was only drawn from it some time later by the insistent ‘phone. Wondering why Ruth hadn’t answered it, she nevertheless laid her ‘cello down and went to pick up the ‘phone. “Hello? Hello? May I speak with Jacynth Hardy?” “Speaking. How may I help you?” “Oh, Jacynth, hello, dear, how are you? Oh, yes, it’s Mrs Dearborn from the College. So nice to speak with you again!” Puzzled, for why would the College secretary be telephoning – during the Christmas holidays, yet – Jacynth nevertheless answered politely. “Very well, thank you Mrs Dearborn. And you?” “Oh, well, dear, mustn’t complain, mustn’t complain. Now, how are you fixed for this afternoon?” “This afternoon? Well, er, um, I don’t know, really. Er, why do you ask?” “Oh, silly me! Of course, the Maître said you wouldn’t know. Well, dear, he did say he’d warned you. He’s taking a recital class tomorrow, and he wondered if you would be able to pop in this afternoon and run through a few things?” “Oh! Yes, of course! What time, Mrs Dearborn?” “Drat it! Where did I put that – ah, here it is!” Obviously in the term Jacynth had been away, Mrs Dearborn’s office had not become any more tidy – such a contrast from Miss Dene’s! “Ah, yes, dear, he said could you meet him in the Hall at three?” “Certainly. Please tell Maître I’ll be there promptly.” And Jacynth rang off, excited but apprehensive. It had only been a week since her last lesson, but she felt her practising had not been up to her usual standard, and she was worried about what Maître Fournier would say. PART XXXVIII At three o’clock precisely, Jacynth pushed open the door to the Hall at the Royal College of Music. Inside she found the Director, Maître Fournier, and two other people, neither of whom she recognised. Greeting those she knew politely, she sat down on a nearby chair and laid her ‘cello case on the floor. Unwinding her scarf, she kept her coat on as the Hall was by no means warm, and began to unpack her instrument. The other two people in the Hall came up to Jacynth and introduced themselves. Both were names she realised she knew, neither were students in either London or Paris, and she wondered even more what she was doing there. Apart from being about to make a fool of myself! she told herself wryly. “Allons! We must to work!” and Fournier nodded to the Director, who sat down in a chair a few rows behind Jacynth. “Antoinette will be our accompanist, and you two young people will be my – what was it you called it, Mademoiselle? ‘airy ‘amsters?” and with a twinkle he went to the piano with Antoinette. Jacynth went bright red in an attempt to suppress her laughter. “Guinea-pigs, Maître, guinea-pigs!” Fournier smiled. She wouldn’t be nervous any more and although he knew she would always give of her best, a nervous Jacynth wouldn’t play as well as a relaxed one. * * * * Back in north London, Ruth had taken the girls for a walk and had missed Jacynth’s ‘phone call, and by the time they had returned, after a walk somewhat longer than Ruth herself would have preferred due to the need to tire the fidgets out of Jack, even that young lady was quiet. ‘Dear Ruth, ‘Gone to the College for a “rehearsal” with Maître. Don’t know what time I’ll be back. No ‘phone calls by the time I left.’ ‘Jacynth’ The note was by the telephone, with a scribbled number at the bottom – 2:00. Ruth looked at her watch. It was 2:30pm, so half an hour had passed with the ‘phone unattended. Young Anne looked at her mother’s face and pulled Jack upstairs, promising to read two whole chapters of William. PART XXXIX Ruth allowed herself to collapse on the sofa, where she expressed her fears in tears. Ten minutes later, she sat up and sniffed hard, while searching for the handkerchief she then remembered she’d had to use on Jack’s skinned knee. She went up to the bathroom and bathed her eyes in cool water, able to hear Anne reading to a – for once! – silent Jack. Blessing her elder daughter – and her younger one – a pink-eyed Ruth repaired to the kitchen for that panacea for all ills – a cup of tea. Sipping the tea, she drew a writing block to her and began to note down things she needed – or wanted – to do. At the top of the list was ‘Pray for Tommy’ and the same item was at the bottom , with just two items in between: ‘Book flight’ and ‘Pack’. By the time she had finished her tea, her mind was made up, and she went to the telephone. Her first call was to BOAC, and she managed to get a seat on the following day’s Argonaut to Rangoon, via Rome, Cairo, Basra, Karachi, and Calcutta. Although the service continued via Bangkok to Hong Kong, she would need to change at Rangoon to a QANTAS flight that would take her to Singapore before continuing on to Australia. Ruth would spend nearly three days in transit, longer than if she flew with the RAF, but slightly more comfortable. Knowing Jacynth and Gay had commitments they couldn’t change, Ruth then rang Mrs Culver and arranged for the little girls to stay with her. Hawk would collect them the following day, and they would travel by train to Culver’s Hold, Ruth not having forgotten the frozen specimens the Culvers had presented on their Boxing Day arrival! Her arrangements made, Ruth spent fifteen silent minutes praying for her husband and family, before repairing upstairs to re-pack for herself and her daughters. Now all she had to do was tell those daughters – and her hostesses – what she was going to do. PART XL Being somewhat desirous of a relatively quiet life, Ruth said nothing of her plans that night. The expected storm of explosions from all quarters – but one – came the following morning, when Hawk arrived ready to take her daughters away and Ruth had to explain that no, they weren’t returning to Germany but that the little family would be further splitting up. Gay wasn’t required at work until relatively late that morning, and was furiously vocal when told her sister-in-law’s plans. Ruth had weathered the storms. She had the support – surprisingly to Gay – of Hawk, and, thus buttressed, was immovable. The little girls were simply told that Mummy had the chance to go out to Daddy but that there wasn’t a seat for either of them, and neither, inured to the exigencies of a life ruled by the RAF, questioned the statement. In fact, hearing they were to visit Auntie Gill’s Mummy was cause for almost-hysterical excitement, even from the usually sober Anne. Trouble came from Jacynth, who wasn’t as ignorant of the world as her commitment to music might have led an observer to believe. She was horrified that Ruth was putting herself into danger and possibly leaving her children both father- and motherless. Realizing Ruth was not going to change her mind, she fled to her room and the sanctuary of her ‘cello. The “master class” was due to take place that evening, and she still felt far from confident. More trouble came from Gay, who couldn’t believe Hawk was supporting Ruth in what she saw as a mad enterprise – worse than any of her own. Gay felt that having grown up without any parents of her own, Ruth was being almost criminally negligent of her own children by undertaking the journey to Malaya – and said so in no uncertain terms. She eventually retired to her own room, to be soothed despite herself by Jacynth’s playing. **** Ruth and Hawk packed the little girls into a taxi – Hawk was leaving his Jeep in Town as he would be returning that same afternoon, and a taxi was certainly more comfortable! Just as the taxi-man was slamming the boot, a shamefaced Gay came running down and flung herself at Ruth. “‘M sorry, old thing!” Half-in and half-out of the taxi window, Gay’s apology was somewhat muffled by Ruth’s coat, but the sense came across if not the exact words. Ruth – herself very near to tears – shook Gay gently by the shoulders as she said, “Well, the only thing I’m sorry to miss is hearing Jacynth’s teacher on the radio tomorrow night. You’ll go along tonight won’t you?” Gay, who’d completely forgotten the “master class”, looked, if possible, even more shamefaced. “As if I wouldn’t! I do love Jac’s playing even if...” and she straightened, then leaned down once more to the window. “Girls, be good for Uncle Hawk and for Auntie Gill’s mother!” then it occurred to her to ask Hawk what exactly the girls were supposed to call his mother? “If I know Mother, she’ll be ‘Granny Kate’ before they’ve been in the house five minutes. She’s dying to become a grandmother and we’re all a sad disappointment thus far. Chin up, old girl! We’ve got to go or we’ll miss our train and – far worse – Ruth’ll miss her ‘plane!” For Ruth was keeping the taxi to get to the aerodrome. Gay waved fiercely as the taxi disappeared around the corner, only noticing Jacynth at the top of the steps as she turned to re-enter the house.

Author:	Sophoife [ Tue Nov 28, 2006 10:56 am ]
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PART XLI (it’s new!) “Jac, old girl! They’ve gone and there’s not a thing we can do about it!” and she hugged her friend briefly. Jacynth nodded and turned back into the house. “I say! Jacynth! I’ve just thought! The class tonight – what time does it start? Because I shan’t get off until gone seven and it’s a good forty minutes from the Adelphi to Albert’s Hall if the jolly old number 9 is on time! Don’t even think about the Tube – I’d have to change and I’d be sure to miss the connection!” Jacynth smiled, as Gay had meant her to. “Eight-fifteen. And I shan’t be on first – thank goodness! Don’t worry, Gay. I’ll see you there – Mrs Dearborn is saving you a seat. Oh – we’re in the small recital hall, not the concert hall, thank heavens!” As she spoke, Jacynth had been wrapping Gay in her coat and scarf, and on the final word she presented her with a woollen beret and a pair of gloves. “I can take a hint! I know I’ll be late if I don’t get a wriggle on!” and with a turn of speed that was typical of her more normal energetic self, Gay was off, leaving Jacynth to return to her ‘cello. This she did, and three hours later felt slightly more confident about the evening to come. Knowing she needed some fresh air, she wrapped up well and went for a brisk walk. Returning to the house, she heated some soup and, refreshed, picked up her ‘cello once again.

Author:	LizB [ Tue Nov 28, 2006 11:46 am ]
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I hope Ruth gets out to Tommy safely. And that Jacynth's performance goes well. Thanks, Sophoife

Author:	Sophoife [ Tue Nov 28, 2006 1:13 pm ]
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PART XLII By seven o’clock Jacynth was pushing open the doors of the recital hall, and greeting Antoinette, the accompanist. The hall itself was dimly lit, and seemed rather cold. “Brrr! I hope it warms up a bit!” Jacynth exclaimed as she unwound her scarf. “Mais non, chérie! We are not in ‘ere, we ‘ave been moved. So man-ee want to ‘ear Maître and learn from ‘im zat we are in ze uzzer room - ze beeg one!” replied Antoinette, smiling broadly. Jacynth groaned. Puzzled, Antoinette looked a question, and Jacynth shrugged. “I’d prefer a smaller audience.” The experienced Frenchwoman smiled. “But zis way many more will enjoy - n’est-ce pas?” and she led the way past the stage of the recital hall to the internal door. **** Antoinette and Jacynth spent the next hour in a small rehearsal room behind the concert hall, with the other ‘cellist and Maître Fournier, warming up and tuning up. At eight the Director came in and rubbed his hands together. “It’s still none too warm out there even though the hall is filling up nicely. Most people have left their outdoor things on, and I’d suggest you all keep your coats on, at least until you’ve had a chance to warm up properly. Maître, I’m going to close the doors in ten minutes. There won’t be any seats left by then, anyway! Goodness knows where they’ve all come from!” on which note he ducked back out of the room. Maître looked quickly at Jacynth. Yes, she was nervous, but the cold wasn’t helping. What...? and Mrs Dearborn came in. “Jacynth, dear - oops, excuse me, Maître, I wonder if I might have a word with Jacynth?” and without waiting for a reply, she rushed on. “Jacynth, dear, your friend’s just arrived and I’ve brought her with me because she said she really had to speak with you - and it’s just a class after all, so -“ and she trailed off as she left the room, leaving a slightly stunned-looking Gay behind. “Gosh, didn’t think she’d just tow me in like that! Maître, I’m so sorry!” Jacynth went to Gay and held her hands tightly. Turning slightly, she introduced Gay to Maître and the others, and apologised for any intrusion. Smiling negatives were given by all, and she turned back to Gay. “Oh, you have no idea how glad I am you’re here!” Gay grinned. There was really no other word for it. She grinned like a schoolboy and said, “Of course I do you ninny! That’s why as soon as I realised I wasn’t being conducted to the recital hall, I told Mrs D I really had to speak with you. Now come on! You’ve got to take a deep breath and do what you do best - I can see you’re not just shivering with the cold!” Gratefully, Jacynth smiled. She hugged Gay quickly, and then stood away, breathing deeply. “I’ll be OK now. You’re such a brick!” Gay headed for the door. “See you in a minute! Oh! Er - good evening, Maître!”

Author:	Squirrel [ Tue Nov 28, 2006 2:59 pm ]
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Brilliant Gay - knew exactly what was needed and acted on it, despite Maitre and everything else! I loved that Sophoife, thank you

Author:	LizB [ Tue Nov 28, 2006 3:07 pm ]
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Well done, Gay Thanks, Sophoife

Author:	Lesley [ Tue Nov 28, 2006 6:54 pm ]
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Oh that was very well done, Gay - just what Jacynth needed. Hope Ruth and Tonny will both be OK. Thanks Sophoife

Author:	Cath V-P [ Tue Nov 28, 2006 11:40 pm ]
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What a good idea Gay. Thank you Sophoife.

Author:	Karoline [ Wed Nov 29, 2006 3:39 pm ]
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Lovely to see this back Thank you Sophoife

Author:	Sophoife [ Thu Nov 30, 2006 1:59 pm ]
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PART XLIII I AM REALLY REALLY SORRY TO THE MEMORY OF PIERRE FOURNIER FOR GIVING HIM ENGLISH LIKE THIS! not to mention borrowing him so much at all! He wasn’t supposed to be here so much! Smiling, Fournier looked after the blonde, such a contrast to his student. “Your friend, zat was kind. To come and show you she is ‘ere.” He was pleased that Jacynth looked more relaxed. “And now, allons! Let us go and show London ‘ow it’s done!” The little group filed on to the stage in the concert hall, Antoinette heading for the piano. Jacynth and the male ‘cellist sat quietly on their assigned chairs. Fournier remained standing. He cleared his throat. “Good evening, messieurs-dames! We are ‘ere for un leçon tonight and I ‘ope I shall learn as much as any of you. I will work wiz Mademoiselle Jaceenth ‘Ardy, ‘oo many of you will know,” he indicated Jacynth, “and we ‘ave a young man from Russie ‘oose music we will soon ‘ear much more of, Slava...” but he couldn’t manage the Russian’s surname, so didn’t try. “And Mademoiselle Antoinette will ‘elp us all at the piano.” Applause rose from the body of the hall and the audience of all ages knew it was in for a treat. The Director was excitedly whispering to another sixtyish man on his left - Gay was behind them and later told Jacynth the Director had been speaking Italian and the other man had said what sounded like “Si, si, in Firenze, l’anno prossimo!” Turning to the Russian, Fournier asked him to begin. The master class had begun!

Author:	LizB [ Thu Nov 30, 2006 4:37 pm ]
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settles down to enjoy the music Thanks, Sophoife

Author:	Lesley [ Thu Nov 30, 2006 7:42 pm ]
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Sounds good so far! Thanks Sophoife

Author:	francesn [ Thu Nov 30, 2006 11:24 pm ]
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Hurrah for Gay being there! Hope Jacynth does well Thanks Anna

Author:	Cath V-P [ Thu Nov 30, 2006 11:25 pm ]
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Good luck Jacynth!

Author:	Josie [ Mon Dec 04, 2006 12:57 am ]
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Thanks, Sophoife.

Author:	Jane [ Mon Dec 04, 2006 4:47 pm ]
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Rostropovich, I presume!

Author:	wheelchairprincess [ Tue Dec 05, 2006 12:28 am ]
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Oh I hope Tommy and Ruth will be ok. And that Jacynth's master class will go well. I enjoyed this, just sat here and read it all.

Author:	Sophoife [ Tue Dec 05, 2006 1:52 pm ]
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Jane gets the gold star for correctly identifying the other master class "student". Sorry no posts over the weekend. Back now. PART XLIV Gay finally managed to extricate Jacynth from a crowd of younger girls - and boys - and hissed, “Home! Now! Or I’ll never get up in the morning!” Overwhelmed by the reception she assumed was for Fournier and the Russian, whose playing had been so far beyond where she felt she was, Jacynth was only too happy to follow Gay docilely. As Gay eased open the left of the double doors, a hand fell on her shoulder. “Mademoiselle! You are taking Mademoiselle Jaceenth ‘ome?” It was Fournier. Gay turned and laughed. “Yes, Maître! I have to be at work early and Jacynth needs some peace. I’m so glad I came tonight - it’s been an education in an evening! Merci millefois!” Fournier smiled. “You are right, Mademoiselle. Take ‘er ‘ome, let ‘er sleep, and - ‘oo knows? per’aps demain she will know not all ze app-lause was for ze men!” He let his hand rest for a moment on Jacynth’s shoulder, and smiled again. “Bonsoir, mes petites!” The two girls found themselves outside the College, in the freezing London night. Gay took Jacynth’s hand and began to walk briskly to the corner. “It’s so much later than I thought, Jac! D’you think we’ll make the last Tube?” She got no answer and looked sideways. Jacynth was grasping her ‘cello case with the hand not in Gay’s and her eyelids were drooping. Gay knew her well enough to know she wasn’t sleepy, she was thinking hard, and was pleased. “Jac! Hello!” Jacynth looked up, startled, and realised she’d been virtually dragged down the steps and along half the street. “Sorry, Gay! I was miles away! Brrr! If we walk fast enough, we’ll certainly catch it, and it might warm us up a bit, as well.” So saying, she shook herself and began to walk faster. A rumbling split the icy air behind them and both girls looked round. “Hi! You two! Want a lift?” It was Hawk, in the Jeep. “What?! How did you know where we were?” exclaimed Gay. “Gay, you goose! Of course I knew! I got back to Town later than I’d planned, and when I went to pick up the Jeep I thought it was late enough that you wouldn’t mind if I stayed. I won’t have a flannel nightgown waiting for me in Rutshire, you know!” Hawk grinned. He let the engine idle, jumped down, and lifted both girls up to the Jeep, warning them to wrap up well. They found blankets and Gill’s tarp awaiting them, and remembering the state she’d been in, were quick to follow his orders. “This is much better than the mouldy old Tube!” yelled Gay as they roared through the dark streets. The Jeep wasn’t going all that fast, but it certainly made enough noise! Jacynth, wrapped in three blankets, looked at the passing sights, eyes sparkling. This was fun! A ride instead of the stuffy Tube, even if it was about twenty degrees colder in the moving Jeep than even walking would have been.

Author:	Lesley [ Tue Dec 05, 2006 2:09 pm ]
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Well done Jacynth - and well done Hawk for being there for them. Thanks Sohoife

Author:	wheelchairprincess [ Tue Dec 05, 2006 3:13 pm ]
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Yay this is brilliant!

Author:	LizB [ Tue Dec 05, 2006 7:41 pm ]
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That was well timed by Hawk Thanks, Sophoife

Author:	Cath V-P [ Tue Dec 05, 2006 11:09 pm ]
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Exactly what Jacynth needs after the evening - something completely fresh. Thank you Sophoife.

Author:	Nell [ Mon Dec 11, 2006 1:09 pm ]
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Lovely - great to catch up on this again!

Author:	Josie [ Tue Dec 12, 2006 11:29 pm ]
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Good old Hawk. Thanks Sophoife

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