Music Man Pt. 05

Chapter Thirty Four

Ged spent the remainder of his week in London arranging songs with Gerry Frobisher, and eating with him and his wife each evening. On the Friday, Robin came to visit.

"You've phoned Cassie," she said as soon as she sat down.

Ged looked at her in surprise. "No," he said. "I realised after you went that I've not got her number. She's got mine but hasn't tried to contact me. I've been quite busy you know with these pieces for Gerry."

"But you can find her number?" came the rejoinder.

"Well–" he began.

"Do it now, Ged," she ordered him briskly. "Don't delay any more. Get it over with."

Strangely Ged felt no resentment at her attitude. He knew he had been putting it off.

"OK, OK!" he said trying to sound petulant and failing. She smiled knowingly. It seemed impossible to be angry with the girl.

He left the living room and took out his phone. Then he remembered he had kept it switched off. He switched it on and keyed in Cheryl's number as he stood in the hallway. Brian answered.

"Hey, Ged!" Brian chirped. "Long time no hear! Hey, man, so sorry about you and Cassie."

"Yeah, it's a bummer," replied Ged. "Is she there? I could do with a word or two with her."

There was a moment of silence.

"She's not living here any more," Brian said hesitantly. "Didn't you know? She's got herself a flat. Cheryl's over there getting her settled in."

"Oh."

"You've not spoken to her, have you?" said Brian. "Oh dear."

"I've not got her new mobile number. I was rather hoping she would phone me. I'm sure she knows my number." He wondered whether she had tried while his phone was off.

"But I thought you two were finally finished, you know, broken up. That's what I gathered from what I've heard the women saying. Didn't you know? She didn't tell you?"

"The last time we 'talked' it was a shouting match and I think we both said things in the heat of the moment. I wanted to talk with her and sort things out. If it means she's finished with me, it was no way to part."

"Oh." Another silence.

"So," Ged prompted, "Have you got her number?"

"Er, yes. Hold on."

There was a muffled sound of searching, then Ged heard the phone picked up.

Brian told him the number.

"Thanks Brian," Ged said.

"Good luck," his friend replied, ringing off.

Ged keyed in the number. It went to voice mail.

"Cassie, it's Ged. Can we talk in a better mood than last time? I couldn't phone you earlier, I hadn't got your number. Please phone me back on my mobile – I'm not at home at the moment."

He went back to the family. "Voice mail," he said. "I've asked her to phone me back. If she doesn't, I'll text her. Some people never check their voicemail."

The rest of the evening passed and she did not reply, nor on Saturday. He sent a text.

Please Cassie, can we talk? We seem to miss each other and misunderstand each other. Please ring me. Ged.

There was no reply, nor did she phone.

On Monday he was packing in his hotel suite when his phone rang. The ID showed him it was Gus.

"Could you stay another week and meet Viv and the group tomorrow to practise and join them on Wednesday for a recording session? You remember you promised it them before you went to the States?"

Ged sighed; he had begun to want home comforts after his prolonged stay at the Ritz, but he rebooked the suite and settled back in. He phoned his mother at length, worried that he'd not been to see her for weeks.

The next day he met the group at the studio and they spent the day practising. The recording session took all day Wednesday and Thursday until late in the evening. No one had mentioned Cassie at any time, for which he was grateful. Each evening he checked his email, his texts and his voice mail, but she had not replied.

Ged invited them all to dinner on the last day and Robin came as well, since, like the group, he would be leaving for home the next day. He saw Viv's surprise when they were introduced but she said nothing until the group were leaving the hotel for their own.

"I'm truly sorry about you and Cassie," Viv said, and squeezed his arm. "Robin is a lovely girl."

That was all. It set him thinking. First Brian and then Viv had spoken as if it were all over between Cassie and himself, and he felt a pang of loss. He was also puzzled and felt as if the relationship was unfinished. There was no closure, and he wondered where he stood with her.

He wanted them to remain friends, and yet the opposite seemed to have happened. They were at odds; antagonistic towards each other. So it was in that unsettled frame of mind that he took the train home.

He was glad to get back to the house. It welcomed him into its quiet embrace. He noted that Karin had been in and that the fridge and freezer were well stocked. He blessed the woman; even after they had parted as lovers, she still looked after him.

On the train, he had read a recommended novel, had completed every puzzle in his daily paper, looked out of the window, and regarded his fellow passengers who seemed uninteresting.

He availed himself of every complimentary offer by the hostess in first class. She had seated herself opposite him when not busy and engaged him in conversation. There was none of the usual flannel from a fan, she was a more of a critic, and they discussed music and composing.

She was a writer in her spare time, and did her hostess job to observe people and to keep the wolf from the door. He was grateful for her intelligent conversation, like everything else it kept his mind from his besetting worry, Cassie.

Now he was home, with a cup of tea and a welsh rarebit for his evening meal, the unfinished business began to plague him.

"It's no use," he said to the empty room, "I really have to think this thing through. This soap opera has gone on long enough."

He smiled to himself and wondered whimsically if the house heard him and understood, but it sure as hell was saying nothing. Moreover he realised that was the problem between Cassie and him: they weren't talking. Yes, they'd had those heated exchanges, when what they really needed were a series of talks without losing tempers, without shouting, but going over the problems and trying to find solutions.

He remembered with pleasure that Karin had put a Baby Grand Piano in the music room. He had been so immersed in his songs and had used the keyboard because of its effects and portability. In fact the last time the piano was played was at the house-warming party.

He went to the room, took out a book of Beethoven Sonatas and put himself through four of them. It was his way of purging his complicated thoughts. Then he went back to the living room, programmed his music centre to play Mozart symphonies, opened a bottle of Shiraz and settled to sort out his thoughts and feelings.

It crossed his mind briefly that when he wanted to think he went to Mozart and Beethoven, a far cry from what he wrote. As the music began to play, he set himself to think things through carefully and positively. There had been too much negativity he realised; he would not dwell on those times.

He left it at that, only noting the series of misunderstandings and the negative feelings they engendered. He wondered if he had misunderstood what he saw at Cassie's house.

He reprised his encounter with Cassie at Catherine's. He homed in on his own feelings of tenderness and care for Cassie, what she had suffered and the revelation that had been for him. She had always seemed so self-contained, self-assured, but she carried that burden and along with it her distrust of making relationships.

What an act of faith her commitment to Ged had been in the light of that history! He knew if she had told him of her trauma he would never have gone on that tour, and he had told her so. They would probably be married now; he felt emptiness.

The comments of his friends as he had left for the haven of Catherine's arms returned to plague him. What a fool he had been!

'She's honest and faithful.'

'If Zak had not been there, would she have gone with anyone else?'

'Running away.'

'She's a victim like you.'

'You're totally self-obsessed.'

'Zak did all the harm, why are you loading onto her?'

'You're so wrapped up in yourself you're going to make the mistake of your life.'

'She'll find someone and have his babies.'

'A second best life.'

It decided him. His own life would be a second best one if he did not act. He must see her and put things right. This time they would talk and there would be no angry recriminations, rather an earnest apology to her for being so heartless. Then they would see how to set about getting together again.

For the first time he felt optimistic about them, and there was a growing desire for her. He searched in a cupboard for her framed photo, took it out and placed it on the mantlepiece in the living room. He looked at her smiling face from a time before trouble befell them – she was so beautiful.

He felt happy and contented that all the trauma was going to be put behind them and they could look forward together once more. Her divorce would be final sometime in October and they could get married as they always should have done.

Forgetting that Cassie had not replied to any of his messages or phone-calls he phoned her number, and again it went to voice mail.

"Cassie, my darling," he pleaded. "Please ring me back and arrange a time to meet and talk. I've been a fool, and I want to put things right between us. I'm sorry we've been shouting at each other each time we've met, and I guarantee it won't happen again. We need to set things straight between us. Please ring me."

He looked at the mantle clock and saw it was past midnight. She would not ring back tonight. He got a glass of water and went off to bed, where he slept soundly.

On Saturday he could not settle to anything. He tried to write, but nothing came; he tried to compose but with the same result. He did some shopping, then went for a drive in the car. The day was warm and sunny and the trees were in their finery, fresh leaves giving a new look to the world. He hoped and longed for her reply, but none came.

He remembered she always checked her voice mail when they were together. So, in a lay-by on a country road he sent a text, saying the same things. Again he did not expect an instant reply, but by the end of another fruitless day when he mooched around, pottering in the garden, trying to read a novel, and making another hopeless attempt to set a song to music he began to realise she would not answer.

This time there was no anger, merely regret. It was happening again, as it did on the tour. She had cut him off. Now he felt the same loneliness he had before; the same emptiness.

When the house phone did ring, he snatched it out of its cradle and fumbled with the connection button.

"Hello?" he was eager and breathless, but it was not she.

"Ged?" came a familiar voice from the past. Allan Drinkwater from university days.

"Allan? How are you?" Ged asked. Allan had left to work in Germany. "You back for good?"

"Just extended leave," said Allan. "I'm doing a bit at our London office as well. But d'you fancy a night out? A few of us are meeting at the Crown for a few drinks."

Ged felt relieved; he could do with a night with some mates. So he agreed to meet them at nine that evening. He resolved to get a taxi, and perhaps stay in a hotel in the city centre overnight.

When he arrived at the pub, it was not difficult to find the group. There was Allan, looking bronzed and healthy, and Gus was there. Ged remembered they were all good mates back then. There was tubby little Freddy, his round face grinning from ear to ear as he quaffed his pint, and lanky Des, gazing at Ged from under his bushy eyebrows, holding his empty pot in his hand.

Ged took the hint, asked what everyone was having and went to the bar. They caught up on each others' lives and Ged's tour was of great interest.

The party broke up at closing time and Ged got a taxi home. The conversation and laughter had taken his mind off Cassie, but she crashed back into his mind as soon as he crossed the threshold. He sighed and went to bed, where, thanks to a substantial quantity of beer he fell asleep immediately.

Sunday morning dawned wet and windy, and the dark grey clouds scudding across the sky did nothing for Ged's mood, but he had set his mind on going to see Cheryl and eleven o'clock found him on their doorstep.

It was Brian that answered the door.

"Hey, Ged," he greeted him. "Come in."

They were sitting in the living room. In the next room they could hear the sound of a toddler playing with her toys, and Cheryl's voice as she played with her.

"What brings you here, Ged?" asked Brian. "It's been a long time."

"I need to talk to both of you together," Ged said. "Can Cheryl leave Sarah?"

Brian nodded and went to get Cheryl.

Cheryl came in, saw Ged, stopped and anger suffused her face. "What are you doing here?" she spat. "You're too late, she's gone. She's finished with you and your stupid temper, so I can't see why you're here."

"Cheryl," said Brian quietly. "Shut up!"

She baulked at that, with a look of surprise. He did not talk to her like that.

"Just remember," Brian continued, "that you're as responsible for this mess as much as anyone. If you hadn't shut Ged–"

"OK, OK," sighed Cheryl. "What do you want Ged?"

Ged sat forward, "What do I want?" he said despondently. "I want none of this to have happened..."

"Well," interrupted Cheryl, "If you–"

"Cheryl!" Brian spoke sharply. "Shut the fuck up and calm down. If you'd listened to Ged in the first place this would never have happened. So button it darling."

For the second time Cheryl was shocked by Brian's words. She was wrong footed, and slumped.

"OK," she said. "Sorry."

"I came to apologise to you Cheryl," Ged said. "I should never have taken my anger out on you. I was bang out of order, so I want to repair bridges between us. Then I need to talk with you about Cassie. Is that all right?"

Cheryl relaxed. She was a hot headed woman, but she forgave easily. She was also fiercely loyal to her friends, which accounted for her attitude to Ged.

"You're forgiven," said Cheryl gently, "but as to Cassie, you're too late. She's given up on you and moved on. She wants nothing more to do with you. She was clear about that."

Ged sat very still. Once again he felt that deep emptiness, that bereavement. It must be her new boyfriend back home. It was too late to salvage their relationship. Even so, he wanted some proper closure. He wanted them to be on good terms at least.

"Oh," he said at last. "Is it her boyfriend back home?"

"Boyfriend?" Cheryl said, perplexed. Then she realised. "Oh, no, Ged. You mean the man she was with when you went down after her?"

He nodded.

"That was Liam," she told him, "Dollar's new husband. She was going to visit them for the evening in their new house."

"Then why didn't she say so?" he asked, now puzzled in his turn.

"From what I heard, you didn't give her much of a chance."

"I arrived to see her," explained Ged. "She stood half way down the stairs and yelled at me to go back to my blonde bimbo and never to come near her again. Then she went back upstairs. I didn't get a chance to say anything. I'd gone all that way to see her and I was under the impression she'd been out with a man the night before and I was angry at her hypocrisy, so I gave as good as I got."

"Oh."

"And by the way," added Ged with a smile, "Karin may be blonde, but she's no airhead. She's the one who's decorated my house and fitted it out. Come and see it; you'll see what sort of bimbo she is."

"But you slept with her."

"Not since I got back from the States. While I was away she looked after the house for me. When I got back from America, Karin came round and I told her what had happened at Catherine Style's. She immediately saw that our relationship was over. She'd been pushing me towards Cassie before I went.

"But you slept with her before," Cheryl stated.

"Yes. Have you forgotten? Cassie was and is married. I'd assumed she was not available – that she'd gone back to her first love, Zak. I was free; she'd cut me off."

"I still don't understand why you didn't come and see her when you got back from the States."

"I think I told you," Ged said patiently. "Jet lag, then my agent and lawyer, then London to sort out Gerard Frobisher. I came to you the first free day I had since I returned from the States."

"But you were on a date with Karin the Friday you came back – Cassie saw you at the restaurant."

Ged looked surprised then worried. "Karin had been looking after the house for me, Cheryl. Before I went to the States, she was urging me not to go but to find Cassie. That Friday she saw the change in me and that was the end of our relationship, at least in that way. The meal was a farewell and thank-you dinner. Why the hell didn't she come over and talk?"

Cheryl shrugged. "Don't know. Too many rebuffs I think. But you've just been gone a fortnight," Cheryl said.

"I left because I had been told by my love that she never wanted to see me again, and I was under the impression she had someone else. I needed to get away. I worked with Gerard Frobisher for a week, then my agent asked me to do a session recording with Vivienne's group. I had no reason to come back, so I stayed. It is my job Cheryl; it may not be very orthodox, but it's a job. With Robin's help–"

"She's the woman you were with?"

"She's Gerard's sister. She nagged at me and talked with me about Cassie and what had happened."

"But the papers and the magazines?"

Ged gave her a long hard look, and she realised. "Oh, shit!" she said.

"I came back," said Ged, "wanting to talk to her and see if there was a chance for us after her divorce."

"But you never called her."

"I did not have her mobile number," he replied doggedly. "She changed her phone or the number when I was on the tour to stop me calling her. Brian gave me her new one, and since then, I've phoned and texted. She's blanked me."

"Well, she said she had decided to move on."

"And not to answer my calls."

"That's part of cutting herself off from you."

"For God's sake, Cheryl," he cried, "that's what she did while I was on tour!"

"Oh fucking hell!"

For the first time, Brian intervened. "Cheryl, darling," he said gently, "You're her best friend. Don't let her pass up this chance with Ged. The very least she could do would be to meet him and talk."

"Not here!" exclaimed Ged. "The last time was disastrous. I would like to take her out to a good restaurant, and talk over a meal. Meeting in public will assure her there won't be another shouting match. I do love the woman, you know. Just get her to reply to me. Even if it doesn't work out, at least we would part on good terms."

"I'm not sure I can get her to do it," said an uncertain Cheryl, "but now I know all the misunderstandings, I suppose there's a chance."

"That's all I ask," Ged replied. "That you try."

----

Chapter Thirty Five

"Ged came to see us last night."

"Oh? What did he want?"

Cheryl had arrived at Cassie's flat, and the two women had sat down on the sofa with coffee, and had exchanged some news when Cheryl had said the words she had come to say. Cassie's response was cold, even aggressive.

"He wanted to apologise for the way he'd spoken to me, and to tell us some things about his life and to ask me a favour. He clarified a lot of things."

"So?" Cassie's aggression continued.

"What's up with you, Cassie?" retorted Cheryl with some heat in her turn. "Why so nowty?"