Past All Forgetting (19 page)

Before that, however, there was the dinner hour to face. As soon as she went into the staffroom after seeing her class safely into the dining hall, Janna was conscious of that peculiar hush which signals that the subject under discussion has just entered. Her face slightly flushed, she walked over to the trolley where the cups and electric kettle were kept and made herself a cup of coffee. At any other time, she thought, she would have been amused at the stilted and obviously impromptu conversation which had recommenced behind her. She supposed the sensible thing to do would be to take her drink along to her classroom, or even Vivien's office, and let them have their gossip in peace, but she was not in an obliging mood, so she took a chair and made it clear that she was planning to stay.

Inevitably it was Beth who eventually decided to rush in where angels fear to tread.

'You're not wearing your lovely ring, Janna.' Her note of surprise suggested that the observation had just that moment been made. 'Is it being cleaned?'

Janna inwardly applauded her innocent tone.

'No,' she returned coolly. 'Colin and I have simply decided not to get married after all.'

There was an awkward silence, then Beth spoke again.

'What a shame. You always seemed so—well suited.'

'Yes, didn't we?' Janna managed to agree cordially.

'What a blessing that we both discovered in time that we were nothing of the kind.'

Beth was not to be put off, however. 'But won't it make Christmas terribly miserable for you?' she asked. 'You and Colin have always done everything and gone everywhere together. Aren't you afraid that you'll be out in the cold a bit this year?'

Janna's faint smile did not waver. 'I'll just have to keep my fingers crossed that some lonely bachelor takes pity on me,' she said, forcing herself to speak lightly.

There were some sympathetic murmurs at that point from other staff members, and a few hostile glances directed towards Beth, who remained impervious. Her whole attitude, Janna thought, suggested the cat who might not have the cream at the moment, but was shortly expecting a new delivery. It had not slipped her memory that when Colin had first appeared on the Carrisford social scene, it had been Beth who had made the most determined play for him of all the local girls, and she had been openly chagrined at his preference for Janna, who had been the subject of a number of barbed remarks ever since.

She suppressed a slight sigh. There was no doubt that the older girl was ready and more than willing to step into her shoes. Beth would suffer no heart-searchings over Colin's dependence on his father, and would not be deterred at the idea of having to share Thornwood Hall with Sir Robert. In fact, Janna surmised wryly, she would revel in it. Beth knew exactly what she wanted, and would go all out to get it.

She finished her coffee, and with a murmured excuse of having some work to mark, made her escape. She found the atmosphere of rather woolly pity almost harder to take than Beth's overtly malicious attitude. She was not on duty, but the idea of some fresh air seemed appealing, so she collected her coat and went outside. She skirted a group of girls playing an incredibly complex game with rubber balls against the cloakroom wall, and began to walk slowly round the perimeter of the playground The air was very cold, but fresh, she thought, lifting her face slightly to the wind. She supposed ruefully that from the staffroom she might well look a lonely and tragic figure, brooding over her loss. She could only be thankful that none of the wildest guesses would ever approach the truth of the situation.

Pushing her hands deeper into the pockets of her coat, she had just decided to retrace her steps, when she saw Fleur again, standing at the fence. After a brief hesitation she walked on with a deliberately casual air, and fetched up beside the little girl. Fleur did not jump guiltily, or turn away as many of her contemporaries might have done. She merely turned a calm and somewhat questioning gaze upon her teacher and waited for her to speak.

Janna sighed inwardly and capitulated. 'What are you looking at?' she asked 'The road doesn't seem very interesting to me.'

'I am waiting for Maman,' the child announced quietly.

Janna's heart gave a swift uncomfortable thud in her chest.

Trying to sound neutral, she said, 'Is that a good idea?'

Fleur nodded. 'Oh yes,' she said calmly. 'She will come very soon now. If I stand here, I will be able to see her as soon as she turns the corner.'

'I see.' Janna was silent for a moment. Then, aware that she was flushing slightly under Fleur's clear glance, she said, 'Who—who told you that your mother was coming? Was it your father?'

'No.' Fleur's shake of the head was a positive one. 'She. told me so herself. She has written to me. I think she has also written to Rian, but he did not speak of it.

'Oh,' Janna said helplessly. She walked on, knowing that Fleur was once again absorbed in her self-appointed task.

The child's revelation that her mother might be coming to Carrisford in the near future was a disturbing one, the implications of which Janna did not care to examine too closely. But in spite of herself, she could not help wondering what Fleur's mother looked like. Did she have that quality of remote beauty that seemed to appeal so strongly to Western men? It seemed more than likely, as there were already traces of it in her daughter. Janna bit her lip savagely as the image of a sweet-faced Oriental beauty rose strongly in her mind. Was whatever attraction there had been between them—and she could not pretend that it had not been a strong one if it had resulted in Fleur's birth— still alive? Or might it not be that this visit to Carrisford could well revive it? She lashed herself with these thoughts as she walked back into the school, deliberately accepting the pain they brought in their wake.

She had to face the fact that Rian might have decided to conciliate convention by a belated marriage. He would have a great deal to gain by it, after all, she thought numbly, not least the certainty of having his daughter with him permanently. She closed her eyes tightly, aware that burning misery was threatening to overwhelm her.

Rian had achieved his desire to make her wretched, she thought wanly, although not in the way he had originally envisaged. Her only consolation was that he would never know of his own success, although she had come near to betraying herself when he had left her that morning. She had' been so dose to wearing her heart on her sleeve and begging him to stay with her. Only Colin's furious presence, and her fear that they might come to blows, had kept her silent.

Now she was thankful that she had given Rian no hint of the naked longing that consumed her. Nothing had really changed, she told herself drearily. She had no right to Rian. She never had done. She had wanted him, and in return had roused a basically physical response in him. Now there was another woman in his life, presumably able to arouse a similar response, who had a very definite right to his love and respect. If he had now decided to legalise the union between them, and remove the slur of illegitimacy from his daughter, no one could blame him.

During the afternoon, as she had promised, she held the auditions for the Nativity play. Tie boys were soon dealt with. Few of them wanted to play the speaking parts, and the remainder were quite happy to be shepherds, and Wise Men's attendants and guests at the inn. But there was a queue of little girls wanting to be tested for the part of the Virgin Mary. It was plain that the other feminine roles of the Angel Gabriel and the innkeeper's wife were regarded as pretty poor pickings in contrast.

The only one who hung back was Fleur, but there was an undeniably wistful air about her, Janna noticed as she tuned her guitar. She gave her an encouraging smile.

'Aren't you going to sing for me, Fleur?' she asked.

There was a brief but noticeable hesitation, then Fleur gave a resolute shake of her head. Janna did not press the point at that moment She had a group of eager children waiting to be heard, and there would always be time to squeeze Fleur in at the end if the changed her mind.

There was a wide variation in the standard of the performers, but the favoured candidate seemed to be Lucy Watson, a dark-haired, blue-eyed charmer, who attended dancing classes in a neighbouring town, giving her a considerable edge over her less poised contemporaries. Lucy knew she was the best. It was inherent in the demure but triumphant wiggle of the hips she gave as she returned to her place amid the vociferous applause of the rest of the class.

Janna supposed the decision had been made for her. It was almost a Watson prerogative, playing the Virgin Mary in the annual Nativity play. Lucy was the youngest from a large family, and Janna could well remember a very much older sister of the said Lucy playing the part when she herself had been a pupil at the school.

Perhaps for this very reason, she delayed making the announcement after the other children had finished singing. Ignoring the expectant hush, she looked slowly round the small group who had declined to try their luck on the grounds of tone deafness or preternatural bashfulness.

'No one else want to try?' She strummed a few soft chords by way of inducement, and her eye caught Fleur's. 'Come along, Fleur,' she said briskly. 'I don't think I've ever heard you sing.

Slowly and reluctantly the child rose to her feet and came to the front of the room.

'What must I sing?' she asked.

'Do you know "Away in a Manger"?' Janna played the opening bars.

Fleur shook her head, her small face impassive at the tiny ripple of incredulous giggles that went round the room.

'But you've heard the others singing it' Janna went on persuasively. 'Look, here's a book with the words in it. Just try the first verse. Go as slowly as you like.'

She began to play the familiar tune on the guitar, picking out the notes clearly to guide the child, and after a moment's uncertainty Fleur relaxed her shoulders and began to sing. It was as if a captured bird had suddenly opened its heart in that classroom. Her voice was high, sweet and pure with a quality about it that Lucy Watson could not even aspire to. And her ear was good, Janna thought. She sang the tune that she had heard her classmates sing without faltering once. When she had finished there was a puzzled hush, then a scattering of applause. Lucy was both admired and feared by many in the class.

Janna waited until the wriggling and the whispering had died away.

'It's a very hard choice because you all sang so well this year,' she began diplomatically. However, I think Fleur will make a lovely Virgin Mary for us.'

There was a breathless pause, then Lucy Watson, rosy with temper at being baulked of what must have seemed certain victory, put up her hand with bravado.

'It's not fair, Miss,' she said stridently. 'Why, she didn't even know the song without you helping her. Besides, she's foreign-looking.

There was an awed gasp from some of the girls at this piece of plain speaking, which Janna silenced with a look.

'That will do, Lucy,' she said coolly. 'You have to learn to lose as well as win, you know.' She turned to Fleur, noticing rather anxiously that she had turned very pale. 'Here's the book,' she said, as if it was all an everyday occurrence. 'You can learn the words quite easily. It isn't a very long carol.' She looked at the rest of the class. 'We'll have the first rehearsal tomorrow lunch-time—shepherds and angels only, please.'

The bell rang, and the children crowded to the door, delighted to have a minor sensation to report at home that evening. Janna had put her guitar in its case and locked it into her stock cupboard when she felt a small tug at her sleeve. Looking down, she saw Fleur staring at her, urgency written large on her face.

'Yes, dear?'

She saw with alarm that Fleur's eyes were full of tears, which she was struggling to master.

'Mees—please don't make me do it,' she appealed, a tiny sob in her voice.

'But why not?' Janna sat down at her desk. 'Is it because of what Lucy said? You mustn't take any notice of that, you know. She was just disappointed. She didn't mean…'

Fleur shook her head. 'It isn't that. It isn't fair for me to practise for this part when I will not be here for the play.'

'But what makes you think you won't be here?' Janna recognised she could be on dangerous ground here.

Fleur looked down at the floor. 'My mother says that when she comes, she will take me away with her.' Janna bit her lip. 'But you can't be—sure,' she pointed out gently. 'Perhaps when she comes here and sees how nice it is, and how happy you are, she may decide to live here too.'

Fleur shook her head again. 'She will not do that. It is not what my father would want.'

'You can't be sure of that either.' Janna sought for wisdom to say the right thing. 'Maybe he's got used to being —part of a family again.'

Fleur shrugged. 'I do not think so,' she said. 'He does not care about us. He did not care enough to marry my mother when he knew I was to be born. Often she has told me this.'

Janna felt the words like a dagger-thrust. It was hateful being presented with this uncaring portrait of Rian, and not being able to repudiate it. She tried to change the subject.

'It's such a pity to deny the rest of us the chance of hearing you sing,' she tried a different tack. 'You have a lovely voice. Who taught you?'

'My mother.' Fleur's lips trembled perceptibly. 'She is a singer. Her name is Kim San, and one day I will be a singer too.' 

'I wouldn't be in the least surprised,' Janna agreed, trying to smile. 'In the meantime, we'll just wait and see what happens, shall we? Perhaps your mother won't come until after the play, and that means you can play the Virgin Mary, and still go and be a singer afterwards.'

She waited and was rewarded with a reluctant nod, and a shy and increasingly delighted smile.

When Fleur had gone, she sat for a long time at her desk staring in front of her, and not liking very much the pictures that her imagination was inexorably painting.

So Fleur's mother was a singer, and if the gift she had passed on to her daughter was anything to go by, a very good one too. She found herself wondering under what circumstances Rian and this Kim San had met. There seemed little doubt that, whatever they might have felt for each other in the past, now there was a great deal of bitterness in their relationship. She sighed. Fleur was such an attractive child that it disturbed her to think that her parents were involving her in their disputes. It was not fair for such a small girl to be so knowing, and so acceptant of the things that could go wrong between a man and a woman.