Stop being childish, Joely. Focus on this assignment instead, because after this morning’s brief meeting it’s clearly going to be far from dull.
She looked down as her phone buzzed with a text.
I know you’re not going to answer this, but I wanted to let you know that Holly’s gone to stay with your mother. I think she misses you, as do I.
The last three words hit Joely hard. Why had he added them? What was the point when he didn’t mean them, probably hadn’t even thought about them, merely done what he always did as though nothing between them had changed? Damn you, Callum, she seethed inwardly. Damn you for making me think there might still be hope when you’re about to go away with Martha. What the hell is wrong with you?
She tensed as another text arrived. If it was from him, she was going to ring and tell him to stop messaging, that she didn’t want to hear from him and anything important about Holly she could hear from Holly herself or her mother.
Are you somewhere in the house, or have you popped out? FMD.
Not sure whether she was relieved or angry that it wasn’t him she checked the time and noting that it was still more than an hour before she and Freda had agreed to meet in the kitchen, she sent a reply. On my way back. Walking, so should be there by one thirty.
She wasn’t expecting a response to that so was surprised when one came saying, You should have taken the car.
Since it wasn’t possible to tell whether this was a rebuke or simply a kindly reminder that it was at her disposal, Joely swallowed the rest of her drink, zipped up her coat and after thanking the bartender she started back to Dimmett House.
CHAPTER SEVEN
‘Hey Jude’ was playing in the kitchen when Joely returned, the slow, mournful chords coming, she realized, from an iPad propped up on the dresser. She hadn’t imagined Freda being into gadgets, much less knowing how to download music onto a tablet.
It just went to show how mistaken first impressions could be.
Freda was at the Aga stirring the soup and humming along, glancing up only once to let Joely know she’d heard her come in.
Remembering that the song was mentioned in the memoir’s first chapter, Joely wondered if this was her host’s way of reminding her they had work to do. Well, Joely was here now, and she wasn’t late, so she didn’t need to apologize for keeping her client waiting. She simply removed her coat and scarf and hung them on the back of the door.
‘Is there anything I can do?’ she offered, going to the Aga.
Freda seemed on the point of replying when she lifted her head and sniffed the air. She turned to Joely curiously. ‘Have you been drinking?’ she asked, still holding the stirring spoon.
Flushing, Joely said, ‘I was invited to try a local ale at the Rising Sun.’
Freda nodded thoughtfully, and instructed Joely to sit down as she picked up a ladle to fill a bowl from the pot.
Doing as she was told, Joely said, ‘I’m sorry. I don’t want you to think that drinking at lunchtime …’
‘Were you offered one of Auntie Marian’s hot pickled onions?’ Freda interrupted, setting a serving of soup in front of Joely.
Startled, Joely said, ‘No.’
‘Mm, shame. They’re very good.’ She went to fetch some soup for herself and settled down at her usual place. ‘The next time you’re at the pub,’ she said, picking up a napkin, ‘perhaps you’d be kind enough to bring back a bottle of Exmoor Gold for me.’
Thrown, not only because she was sure she’d earned her first black mark but apparently hadn’t, but also because it sounded as though Freda actually went to the pub herself on occasion. Joely asked if it were true.
‘Rarely,’ Freda replied, unrolling her napkin. Then changing the subject, ‘I don’t have a computer, but I do have this iPad. Edward talked me into it and I must say I find it a very useful research tool.’ She took a mouthful of soup and continued. ‘I’ve compiled the music mentioned in the first two chapters of the memoir. I thought it would provide a good backing track to our discussions. Get us in the mood, so to speak, maybe even transport us back to that time.’ She laughed, and corrected herself, ‘Well me anyway. You’re far too young, obviously. Bread?’
She drew a large wooden board containing several crusty slices towards them as ‘Hey Jude’ faded to a merciful end and what Joely guessed to be ‘The Gaelic Blessing’ began – a sweet and melancholic melody that was quite hypnotic she found.
To Joely’s surprise Freda began singing softly with the choir while looking across the table almost as if serenading her.
Deep peace of the running wave to you
Deep peace of the flowing air to you
Deep peace of the quiet earth to you
Deep peace of the shining stars to you
Deep peace of the gentle night to you …
Unsure where to look or what to do Joely was relieved when it finished and Freda started her soup.
‘Rather fitting for where we are in our acquaintance, don’t you think?’ Freda asked. ‘And for where we are on this beautiful planet we’re so keen to save.’
Though it was an unusual next step in their acquaintance Joely had to agree that actually it did seem quite fitting on both counts, and feeling safe now to pop a spoonful of soup into her mouth she did so, not having wanted to during Freda’s performance.
‘Sunshine of Your Love’ was next, and Freda’s shoulders moved with the beat as she ate her meal and broke apart a chunk of bread.
‘He loved this,’ she said, casually.
Joely swallowed a mouthful of soup, realizing that they must be talking about Sir. She placed her spoon gently back on the table, eager to hear more. But Freda just continued to boogie and eat, clearly enjoying herself immensely. At least until, to quote from her memoir, the first two magical words of ‘Young Girl’ flew into the room and a change came over her that Joely found quite strange – as if the whole thing wasn’t strange enough. Freda became very still as though trapped in the words and their resonance, carried away into memories they seemed to stir … Was it pleasure or pain?
She put down her spoon and ran her knotty fingers through her hair. She seemed to be shaking as she sat quietly throughout the song, and when at last it played out she sat still for a while, staring at her bowl, until finally she looked at Joely with an expression that somehow managed to be both sad and faintly self-mocking. ‘If ever there was a theme tune,’ she murmured.
She was right, it could have been written especially for young Freda and her music teacher, and how powerfully it must have captured them when it was released at the very start of their … affair? It must have been that, surely, it had to be where the story was going, but perhaps more than an affair considering the need to write about it all these years later.
After a while Joely ventured, softly, ‘Do you know where he is now?’
Freda frowned, not in confusion but in something more like disapproval. ‘We’ll get there,’ she replied, ‘and please don’t ask me questions like that again.’
Stung, Joely continued her soup and quietly listened to the piano recital now playing – Debussy’s Claire de Lune, Freda informed her.
Halfway through, Freda said, ‘Tell me what you think of the writing style I’ve adopted. Do you find the first person, present tense an approach that works, or would you advise something different?’