Читать книгу Rags to Riches - Nancy Carson - Страница 6

That Sunday, Stephen arrived promptly at seven and parked his Austin behind Will’s maroon motor car, a Swallow SSI. He walked up the path and knocked at the door.

Will Parish invited him in. ‘I imagine she’ll be ready in a minute or two, Stephen. Come and wait in the sitting room.’

‘Hello, Stephen,’ Henzey greeted affably, fastening a napkin on the baby who was lying on the settee next to where she was sitting. ‘Sorry if it pongs a bit in here. I’ve just had to change him.’

Stephen spotted a soiled napkin on the floor near Henzey’s feet and tried not to breathe in too deeply lest it offend him. ‘One of the joys of having children,’ he commented.

‘One of the drawbacks. Oh, he’s as good as gold…aren’t you, my little cherub?’ she cooed, slipping the baby’s waterproof pants over his napkin. She lifted him, holding him against her bosom. ‘There…that’s better, isn’t it? Now you feel all nice and comfy again.’

‘Have you decided on a name for him yet?’ Stephen asked conversationally.

Henzey looked at Will for permission to reveal it. He nodded his assent with a smile.

‘Aldo,’ Henzey said.

‘Aldo?’ Stephen queried, uncertain as to how he should react.

‘Well…Aldo Benjamin, really. But we shall call him Aldo.’

Maxine appeared at the sitting room door. She wore a simple dark green dress with a flared skirt, belted at the waist, and carried a black leather handbag that matched her shoes.

‘So, now you know the baby’s name, Stephen.’

‘Yes. It’s, er…’

‘Awful?’ Maxine suggested wryly. ‘Is that the word you’re looking for?’

‘It’s lovely,’ Henzey said, clutching Aldo to her. ‘Isn’t it my little pet? It’s a beautiful name for a beautiful little boy.’

‘It’s a frightful name,’ Maxine countered with a gleam in her eye, and Will chuckled again at the minor controversy this choice of name was causing. She carefully took the child and cradled him in her own arms lovingly while Henzey took the soiled napkin to the scullery. ‘Whatever possessed them, eh?’ she said in baby talk. ‘Fancy calling a lovely little boy like you Aldo, you poor thing. Fancy calling you Aldo when they could have called you something decent, like Robert, or Peter…or David…or even Stephen.’

‘Oh, Even Stephen’s a good one,’ Will mocked good-naturedly. ‘Why don’t we call him Even Stephen?’

‘Because we’ve already got one Even Stephen,’ Maxine answered flippantly.

Stephen felt flattered, hopeful even, that by implication he was one of the family…almost.

Once in the car and on their way, Stephen said: ‘Are they serious about calling the poor child Aldo?’

‘I know. Isn’t it just too awful?’

‘How are you settling in, Maxine? D’you think you’ll be happy? You know you’re more than welcome back at —’

‘It’s nice,’ she interrupted. ‘They haven’t even noticed I’m there yet with the baby to occupy them, and that suits me…Anyway, I’m really looking forward to the concert, aren’t you? It seems ages since I’ve been to a CBO concert.’

‘You went to a couple last year. I took you.’

‘But, like I say, it seems ages ago. I should have gone to more.’

‘Seems like you will in future, doesn’t it?’ He turned to look at her as he changed up a gear. ‘I wonder what they’re playing tonight?’

‘Mozart’s ‘Prague’ for one, somebody told me. Sibelius’s Second and…oh, I can’t think of the other.’

In no time they were pulling up into a space outside the Italian Renaissance style Council House in Colmore Row. Birmingham Town Hall and its colossal columns faced them, predominating like the Roman Temple of Castor and Pollux as it overlooked the weathered statue of Queen Victoria and New Street.

Stephen got out of the Austin and, to Maxine’s annoyance, immediately rushed round to the other side to open the door for her. Why did he persist in doing that? She could just as easily open the door herself and save time, too. It seemed he was putting her on a pedestal when she did not want to be on a pedestal. She did not deserve it. She had nothing to give in return.

They found their seats in the auditorium and, as the orchestra tuned up, Maxine grew more excited at the prospect of playing with these musicians. She wanted tonight’s concert to be a triumph.

She turned to Stephen. ‘I’m getting quite nervous, you know.’

‘But you’re not even playing.’

‘I’ve got the jitters for the orchestra. I do hope it goes well.’ Just then, the audience began to applaud and Maxine looked up. ‘Look, that’s Leslie Heward, the conductor,’ she exclaimed in an excited whisper. ‘The man who auditioned me.’

The audience fell quiet and Leslie Heward raised his baton. Suddenly the place was charged with the first explosive chord of Mozart’s Symphony number 38 in D major – the ‘Prague’ Symphony.

No sound is as rich, as full, or as emotive as the sound of a full orchestra playing Mozart, Maxine reflected, moved – except maybe Beethoven. Such an extraordinary, exciting sound. No wonder its appeal had spanned centuries. She wallowed in it, savouring every note, loving every familiar twist and turn in the score, every interweaving of the instruments, every development of every theme.

But, halfway through, it surprised her to discover that she was paying scant attention to the cellists, the bassists, or any of the strings. For some time, her eyes had scarcely moved from the handsome trombonist sitting in the brass section. Brent Shackleton seemed to play with more panache than his colleagues. He was more animated, more of a showman, bursting with confidence. His hair was attractively unruly, inclined to flop to one side as he played, causing him to push it back with his fingers when the score allowed him the opportunity. But then, he was younger than any other member of the brass was. He was certainly worth looking at.

In those rarer moments when she was not concentrating on Brent Shackleton, Maxine also tried to envisage herself playing in this brilliant orchestra. The thought of actually being a part of it thrilled her, especially the notion of being broadcast on the wireless, of being recorded and able to hear the performance on record forever after, knowing she would have contributed.

When it was all over and the applause had died she remained in her seat, while the rest of the audience drifted outside into the chilly May evening.

‘Shall we go?’ Stephen suggested, ‘or are we going to stay here all night?’

‘What time is it?’

He looked at his watch. ‘Ten past ten. I have to be up in the morning.’

‘But I’ve been asked back to meet some of the orchestra. Do you mind?’

‘No, course not. Who invited you? The conductor? You never said.’

‘Oh, just one of the players,’ she answered dismissively.

‘Well let’s make our way to the side of the stage. Some of them are mingling there already, look. You’d best go first – they won’t know me from Adam.’

Maxine got up hesitantly from her seat. ‘D’you reckon they’ll think I’m a bit pushy?’

‘Not if you’ve been asked.’ He felt an urge to hug her. Her reticence was typical.

‘But it was only a casual invitation. Maybe I —’

‘Come on, let’s get it over with. It’ll be good for you to make an acquaintance or two before you actually start working with them. Somebody familiar to talk to when you actually get there.’

She sighed guiltily. ‘Okay.’

Hesitantly, she led the way to the side of the stage. Some of the players were sharing a joke, accepting the plaudits of friends and relatives. A hefty middle-aged man with grey hair saw her and smiled as she approached.

‘Hello, Miss,’ he said, over the shoulder of a colleague. ‘Are you looking for somebody?’

‘Oh, nobody in particular. I’m, er…joining the orchestra next week as cellist. I was invited to meet some of the members after the concert.’

The other man turned around to look at her. ‘Joining the team, eh? Well, we could do with a pretty face among this bunch of sourpusses, that’s for sure. Cellist, did you say?’

She nodded.

‘What’s your name, by the way?’

‘Maxine Kite.’

‘Nice to meet you, Miss Kite.’ They shook hands. ‘Jim Davies, first violins. And this is Bill Roberts. Second violins.’

She shook Bill’s hand too. They seemed a friendly lot so far.

‘I was impressed with the performance tonight,’ Maxine remarked. ‘The ‘Prague’ Symphony was brilliant.’

‘Well, you can thank Mozart for that, m’dear,’ Bill suggested dryly.

She introduced Stephen and, as she did so, spotted Brent Shackleton. As he looked in her direction she involuntarily put up her hand and waved. He acknowledged her and made his way towards her.

‘Good to see you, Maxine,’ he said. ‘You made it, then.’

Unwittingly she turned away from Stephen and the others. ‘Yes, I made it.’ She was aware she sounded breathless.

‘Enjoy the concert?’

‘Yes, it was grand.’

‘We played well,’ Brent said. ‘It’s a fairly safe repertoire for the Sunday concerts.’

‘I suppose that’s what people come to hear…something they’re familiar with…something they know.’

‘I reckon so. Are you looking forward to joining?’

‘I can’t wait. You can’t imagine.’

‘Is that your young man talking to those two fiddle players?’ She resisted the urge to turn around and nodded dumbly, wishing profoundly that she could deny Stephen. ‘I think he’s trying to catch your attention. Is he a musician as well?’

‘Oh, no. He designs jewellery. He’s actually very good.’

‘Jewellery, eh? Did he design that brooch you’re wearing?’

She nodded.

‘Quality piece,’ he commented approvingly. ‘Very elegant…You look very elegant yourself, Maxine, if you don’t mind me saying so. I love your dress.’

‘Oh! Thank you.’

Her delight showed in her eyes, but Brent did not have time to notice it. His attention was suddenly drawn beyond her, beyond Stephen, and Maxine thought she saw him acknowledge someone. It was a woman, possibly in her mid-twenties; statuesque, beautiful, exquisitely dressed, her dark hair sleek in a style straight out of Vogue.

‘Sorry. I have to dash, Maxine.’

‘That’s all right.’

‘See you at rehearsals.’

As Brent walked away she turned and rejoined Stephen who was labouring over his conversation with the two violinists.

‘I see you’ve already met our Brent, then,’ Bill said.

‘Brent, yes. I’d quite forgotten his name. He introduced himself after my audition.’

‘He should’ve introduced you to Gwen. Come with me, young Maxine. Let me introduce you to Gwen. You’ll be playing alongside her. Brilliant cellist, is Gwen…’

‘Maxine, can I ask you something?’ Stephen said, breaking a silence that was disproportionately long for the short drive back to Ladywood.

‘What?’

‘Will you marry me?’

He’d sussed that she’d earlier avoided admitting that Brent Shackleton had been the one to suggest going to meet some of the orchestra after the concert, that he was the one she’d really gone to see. He’d seen her acknowledge Brent too eagerly and turn her back on everybody else. He’d witnessed her sparks of interest for Brent, sparks too bright for her own good, too bright for his own good. He must prevent them flaring into a full scale inferno, and the only way he could think of doing that was by escalating her interest in himself. He had not caught sight of Brent’s beautiful companion, so this was a radical strategy which, in all probability, would not work anyway. But desperate situations required desperate measures. And Stephen was desperate. He was also desperately celibate.

‘Did I hear you right?’ Maxine replied, surprised and disappointed that he should offer marriage.

‘You did. I’m asking you to marry me.’ He flipped the indicator switch on the hub of the steering wheel and they turned right into Reservoir Road.

‘Oh, Stephen…’ She sighed, full of sympathy for him in his foolishness. ‘In God’s name, why? What on earth for?’ She turned to look at him. The meagre light falling from the street lamps as they drove past, momentarily brightened his face so serious, so intense, as if he already knew her answer.

‘Because I love you,’ he answered straightforwardly. ‘Why else?’

Maxine felt sorry for him and his self-inflicted vulnerability, and was silent for a few seconds, stalling as she decided how best to answer him.

‘Oh, Stephen…’ she responded at last, not wishing to sound exasperated, although she imagined she did. She should, after all, be flattered. But whatever words she chose in refusing him they would hurt him. She did not want to hurt him. He was her friend; one of the most reliable friends she’d ever had. ‘I…I’ve just got this new job, Stephen…and…well, I really prefer things the way they are right now.’

‘I love you, Maxine, and it’s driving me mad the way things are.’ He slowed the car and turned left, then right into Daisy Road.

‘How do you mean, driving you mad?’

‘I would have thought it obvious.’ He looked at her but she didn’t answer. He pulled up under the gas lamp outside the house and switched off the engine and the headlights. ‘It drives me mad when I’m alone with you, when I can touch you like this…’ He stroked the silky smooth skin of her forearm under her sleeve. ‘But I’m never allowed to make love to you.’

‘But we sometimes kiss goodnight, Stephen.’

‘Occasionally you allow me a quick goodnight kiss, Maxine, but that’s all. That’s not making love. It’s never passionate, never lingering. I want more. I want to lie with you in bed, naked, and feel your warm, soft skin pressing against mine.’

‘Stephen! What a thing to say!’

‘Well it’s true. I want to kiss you all over your body, I want to caress every inch of you, and…oh, you know what I mean.’

‘Stephen! If you did that with Evelyn, you’re not doing it with me. Lord above!’ She shuffled in her seat, affecting righteous indignation. ‘They say men are only interested in one thing. Is that all you want to marry me for? So you can…so you can do that to me?’

‘No. Of course not. I want to look after you. I want to provide a home for you, give you security. I want us to have children.’

‘I’d want children too, Stephen. But the world’s not fit to bring children into if you ask me. Not the way things are. You only have to look at what’s happening in the world…Unemployment, poverty, the Depression, Hitler, Mussolini and all that. Why, every day in the papers you read about some lunatic thing somebody’s up to. Everybody says there’s going to be war sooner or later. Will reckons there’s going to be a war again.’

‘He’s got a child now,’ Stephen argued logically.

‘That doesn’t mean I should have one yet. I don’t want to bring children into a world riven with war.’

‘All the more reason to let me look after you, Maxine. Anyway, there might not be a war at all. It’s only speculation.’

She shrugged. Of course, she could not be sure. Nobody could be sure.

‘Look, Maxine, I’m going to start my own business soon. I shall do well. I shall do very well. I know I shall.’

‘Well, I hope you do,’ she said sincerely. ‘I’m sure you will. But I don’t want to get married, Stephen. Really, I don’t. I don’t want to be tied down by marriage. Not yet at any rate. I’ve got my career to think about. It’s only just beginning. I want to exploit it. I want to get the most out of it. I’ve just been presented with a once in a lifetime opportunity. You don’t begrudge it me, do you, Stephen?’

‘I don’t begrudge it you at all, sweetheart,’ he replied earnestly. ‘You know I don’t.’

‘It sounds as if you do.’

‘Rubbish. You can still do all that even if we get married. Marriage wouldn’t stop you.’

‘Says you now. What if I found myself having a baby?’

‘You wouldn’t, Maxine…I wouldn’t…I mean, I wouldn’t let you get pregnant if you didn’t want to. I’d be careful. I’d be very careful. It wouldn’t interfere with your career. We’d only think of starting a family when you were ready.’

Maxine sighed. What madness had suddenly seized him to make him think of marriage? Why did he have to spoil everything by wanting to tie her down?

‘Do you want to think about it?’ he asked.

‘Oh, Stephen…’ With the utmost sympathy she took his hand and gently stroked it. ‘I don’t deserve such consideration. I’m not ready yet for marriage. I’d be no good for you, my love, because I don’t feel the same way you do. I’ve got so many other things to do in my life I couldn’t give you even half the devotion you deserve. Ask me in another three or four years. Ask me when I’ve got all this out of my system.’

He sighed heavily. ‘Oh, I think I could wait forever if I had to, Maxine. You’re worth waiting for…It’s just that I prefer not to wait, that’s all. In the meantime, we could get engaged,’ he suggested brightly. ‘What do you say to that?’

She sighed again, but with exasperation. ‘What’s the point? If you’re engaged, you’re still promised to be married…You’re still spoken for.’

He shrugged. ‘I know. That’s the idea. But, like I say, we needn’t be married till you’re ready. But at least you would be spoken for.’

‘Stephen, I don’t want to be spoken for. If I ever decide I want to get married, that’s when I’ll get engaged…You can’t be seriously engaged and not name the day, can you? It makes a mockery of engagement. It belittles it. Don’t you see?’

‘No, I don’t agree. I want to be engaged to you, Maxine. I want the world to know how I feel about you…And I had this smashing idea for a ring.’

‘Stephen, the whole world doesn’t need to know by virtue of a ring. It’s a promise between two people – no ring required really. If we’re still friends in a couple of years’ time, ask me again. Who knows, I might feel different then. I’m too young to think of marriage yet.’ She summoned a smile of sympathy. ‘What do you say? Agreed?’

He shrugged, profound disappointment darkening his expression. She had won this round. She had wriggled out of it tonight. But next time she might not wriggle out of it quite so fast.

‘All right,’ he said. ‘But I’m not giving up, Maxine. You’ll be mine one day – one way or the other. You’ll see.’

‘One day, maybe,’ she said, happy to concede that point for now. ‘Are you going to come in for a night cap?’

He peered at his wristwatch by the scant light of the street lamp. ‘Much as I’d like to, I’d better not. I’ve got to be up. When shall I see you?’

She shrugged with indifference. ‘I don’t know. Come round Wednesday night, if you want.’

‘Not till Wednesday? What about before that? What will you be doing tomorrow night…and Tuesday night?’

‘Practising my cello, I expect. I have to practise, Stephen.’

‘I could listen. You know I love to hear you play.’

She shrugged again, irked at his tedious inability to face reality. ‘Come round Tuesday night then.’

‘What about Monday night?’ he persisted.

‘Stephen, I can’t see you every night. And I don’t want to see you Monday night.’

‘Just Tuesday then.’

‘Just Tuesday.’

‘…A kiss?’

She pursed her lips in the least romantic way she could and he pressed them with his own. At once breaking off, she opened the car door, wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and, before he had chance to open his and come round to her side, she was gone. As she thrust open the front door of the house she heard him start the car and drive off.

Inside, while she hung up her coat, she heard Henzey and Will talking in the sitting room. Henzey called, and Maxine answered.

‘The kettle’s just boiled if you want a drink,’ Will said. ‘Had a good night?’

Maxine smiled enigmatically. ‘Yes, and no.’

Henzey looked up from folding clean napkins on her lap, instantly curious. ‘Tell us, then.’

‘Well the concert was smashing. The orchestra was brilliant. And I met one or two of them afterwards…’

‘But?’

‘But…’ Maxine sighed dramatically and shook her head. ‘On the way home Stephen asked me to marry him – of all the stupid things.’

‘I take it you don’t want to marry him,’ Will said.

She slumped down on the settee, disconcerted. ‘I’m too young, Will. This new job. I’m not ready for marriage. I don’t want to be tied down. There are too many other things in life I want to do first.’

‘You could do a lot worse, our Maxine,’ Henzey commented. ‘You could do a lot worse than marry Stephen Hemming.’

‘Oh, I know, Henzey. He’s as good as gold. But I’d be no good for him. He’s just a friend. It wouldn’t be fair.’

‘Then let’s hope he doesn’t get tired of waiting.’

‘If he wants to wait that’s up to him, but there are plenty of other fish in the sea for him. Maybe I ought to swim around in it a bit and meet a few more. Just think what I might be missing.’ She got to her feet again. ‘I think I’ll make myself a cup of cocoa. Anybody else?’

‘No thanks,’ Will said.

‘Not for me, either,’ Henzey said. ‘But, hey – I nearly forgot…’

‘What?’ Maxine stood poised at the door, ready to take off into the kitchen.

‘Will came up with the idea of all the family getting together and going along to see your maiden concert, as he called it, then all coming back here afterwards for a celebration. For your twenty-first. What do you think?’

Maxine grinned happily. Her widest grin that night. ‘Oh, that would be smashing. Oh, isn’t that husband of yours kind, Henzey?’ She looked at Will. ‘It’s a lovely idea, Will. Thank you. Thank you ever so much.’

‘And tomorrow,’ Henzey added, ‘I’m going to buy the tickets for the concert.’