Hannah, meanwhile, knew when she was beaten. While Emmeline exclaimed over forgotten decorations, Hannah straightened her shoulders-dignity in defeat-and carried the Chinese box from the room. David watched her go; had the decency to look sheepish. When she returned, empty-handed, Emmeline looked up. ‘Hannah,’ she said. ‘You’ll never believe it, Robbie says he’s never even seen a Dresden cherub!’
Hannah walked stiffly to the carpet and knelt down; David sat at the piano, fanned his fingers an inch above the ivory. He lowered them slowly onto the keys, coaxing the instrument to life with gentle scales. Only when the piano and those of us listening were lulled and unsuspecting, did he begin to play. A piece of music I believe to be amongst the most beautiful ever written. Chopin’s waltz in C sharp minor.
Impossible as it now seems, that day in the library was the first music I had ever heard. Real music, I mean. I had vague recollections of Mother singing to me when I was very little, before her back got sore and the songs dried up, and Mr Connelly from across the street had used to take out his flute and play maudlin Irish tunes when he had drunk too much at the public house of a Friday night. But it had never been like this.
I leaned the side of my face against the rails and closed my eyes, abandoned myself to the glorious, aching notes. I cannot truly say how well he played; with what would I compare it? But to me it was flawless, as all fine memories are.
While the final note still shimmered in the sunlit air, I heard Emmeline say, ‘Now let me play something, David; that’s hardly Christmas music.’
I opened my eyes as she started a proficient rendition of ‘O Come All Ye Faithful’. She played well enough, the music pretty, but a spell had been broken.
‘Can you play?’ Robbie said, looking toward Hannah who sat cross- legged on the floor, conspicuously quiet.
David laughed. ‘Hannah has many skills, but musicality is not amongst them.’ He grinned. ‘Although who knows, after all the secret lessons I hear you’ve been taking in the village… ’
Hannah glanced at Emmeline who shrugged contritely. ‘It just slipped out.’
‘I prefer words,’ Hannah said coolly. She unwrapped a bundle of tin soldiers and laid them in her lap. ‘They’re more apt to do as I ask of them.’
‘Robbie writes too,’ David said. ‘He’s a poet. A damn fine one. Had a few pieces published in the
The door opened then, stifling Robbie’s answer, and Alfred appeared, carrying a tray laden with gingerbread men, sugarplums, and paper cornucopias filled with nuts.
‘Pardon me, Miss,’ Alfred said, laying the tray atop the drinks table. ‘Mrs Townsend sent these up for the tree.’
‘Ooh, lovely,’ Emmeline said, stopping mid-song and racing across to pick out a sugarplum.
As he was turning to leave, Alfred glanced surreptitiously toward the gallery and caught my prying eye. As the Hartfords turned back their attention to the tree, he slipped around behind and climbed the spiral staircase to meet me.
‘How’s it coming along?’
‘Fine,’ I whispered, my voice odd to my own ears through lack of use. I glanced guiltily at the book in my lap, the empty place on the shelf, six books along.
He followed my gaze and raised his eyebrows. ‘Just as well I’m here to help you, then.’
‘But won’t Mr Hamilton-’
‘He won’t miss me for a half-hour or so.’ He smiled at me and pointed to the far end. ‘I’ll start up that way and we can meet in the middle.’
I nodded, gratitude and reticence combined.
Alfred pulled a cloth from his coat pocket and a book from the shelf, and sat on the floor. I watched him, seemingly engrossed in his task, turning the book over methodically, ridding it of all dust, then returning it to the shelf and withdrawing the next. He looked like a child, turned by magic to a man’s size, sitting there cross-legged, intent on his chore, brown hair, usually so tidy, flopping forward to swing in sympathy with the movement of his arm.
He glanced sideways, caught my eye just as I turned my head. His expression sparked a surprising frisson beneath my skin. I blushed despite myself. Would he think I had been looking at him? Was he still looking at me? I didn’t dare check, in case he mistook my attention. And yet? My skin prickled under his imagined gaze.
It had been like this for days. Something sat between us that I could not rightly name. The ease I had come to expect with him had evaporated, replaced by awkwardness, a confusing tendency toward wrong turns and misunderstandings. I wondered whether blame lay with the white feather episode. Perhaps he’d seen me gawking in the street; worse, he’d learned it was I who’d blabbed to Mr Hamilton and the others downstairs.
I made a show of polishing thoroughly the book in my lap and looked pointedly away, through the rails and onto the stage below. Perhaps if I ignored Alfred the discomfort would pass as blindly as the time.
Watching the Hartfords again, I felt detached: as a viewer who had dozed off during a performance, awoken to find the scenery had changed and the dialogue moved on. I focused on their voices, drifting up through the diaphanous winter light, foreign and remote.
Emmeline was showing Robbie Mrs Townsend’s sweets tray, and the older siblings were discussing the war.
Hannah looked up from the silver star she was threading onto a fir frond, stunned. ‘But when do you leave?’
‘Early next year,’ David said, excitement colouring his cheeks.
‘But when did you…? How long have you…?’
He shrugged. ‘I’ve been thinking about it for ages. You know me, I love a good adventure.’
Hannah looked at her brother: she had been disappointed by Robbie’s unexpected presence, the inability to play The Game, but this new betrayal was much more deeply felt. Her voice was cold. ‘Does Pa know?’
‘Not exactly,’ David said.
‘He won’t let you go.’ How relieved she sounded, how certain.
‘He won’t have a choice,’ said David. ‘He won’t know I’ve gone until I’m safe and sound on French soil.’
‘What if he finds out?’ Hannah said.
‘He won’t,’ David said, ‘because no one’s going to tell him.’ He eyed her pointedly. ‘Anyway, he can make all the petty arguments he wants but he can’t stop me. I won’t let him. I’m not going to miss out just because he did. I’m my own man, it’s about time Pa realised that. Just because he’s had a miserable life-’
‘David,’ said Hannah sharply.
‘It’s true,’ said David, ‘even if you won’t see it. He’s been stuck under Grandmamma’s thumb all his life; he married a woman who couldn’t stand him; he fails at every business he turns his hand to-’
‘David!’ said Hannah, and I felt her indignation. She glanced at Emmeline, satisfied herself that she was not within earshot. ‘You have no loyalty. You ought to be ashamed.’
David met Hannah’s eyes and lowered his voice. ‘I won’t let him inflict his bitterness on me. It’s pitiable.’
