Under the July Sun (20 page)

She stroked the back of his neck as he refastened the straps.

He turned and saw her eyes filled with tears.

‘I hate sayin' goodbye, Louis. I feel as though I'll never see ye again.'

‘Oh come on now you silly thing, you know you will. It's only for a little while until you are strong enough to make the trip home. You know it makes sense and your parents will love having you here. Take advantage while you can and let them help you with the children. It will be hard enough when you do come home now Ellie has to live in with her new job. You'll miss her not being around to help won't you?'

‘Yes, I know ye're right, but I'd rather be goin' home with ye.'

‘And I'd rather you got yourself fit and healthy again, otherwise I will have three children and an invalid on my hands.'

‘Louis?'

‘Yes?'

‘I wish Ellie and Michael would change their minds about goin' to America after the wedding. I assumed the idea had died. Ye know they haven't mentioned it for a while.'

‘I know it's a hell of a distance to go for work isn't it?'

‘'Tis. And the worst of it is Michael has no particular job to go to when they get there.'

‘Well, they still have time to change their minds, the wedding isn't until April and maybe something will turn up for him before then in England. I hope so.'

‘At least Ellie has a job at present, though it sounds as though that family are workin' the hide off her. The only good thing about it is she doesn't have to find cash for food, rent and clothes. D'ye suppose ye will see her on her next day off?'

‘I hope so, though it depends. I expect she will want to spend her time with Michael, not me!'

He lifted his bag off the bed and heaved it outside into the main room where Maeve was busy peeling potatoes. Billy and Marie were looking on, collecting up the peelings as they curled away from her knife. He dropped the bag on the floor beside her.

‘Well Maeve, I'll be off now.'

‘Oh Lord ye gave me a fright. Are ye away now?'

‘Yes, time to go. I'll just take my bag out and put it on the cart, and then I'll have to be going.' He lifted his bag and went outside to where Ned was waiting with the donkey cart.

Ned turned in his seat and looked at Louis. ‘There ye are then. Put the bag in the back and I'll turn her round.'

Louis swung the bag onto the back of the cart and Ned made a clucking noise with his tongue and Bessie knew it was time to turn. Obediently, the animal moved forward and Ned manoeuvered the cart until they were facing the gate.

‘I'll just say my last goodbyes, Ned, and then I'll be off.'

‘No rush. God made time – and plenty of it.'

Louis grinned and went back inside the cottage.

‘Well Cat, this is it. I'm off now.' He embraced Cat tightly then turned to Billy sitting at the table hoarding his pile of peelings away from Marie.

‘Be a good boy, Billy, and look after Mummy.' Billy looked up at him, but was more interested in his pile of peelings, which he was guarding from Marie's watchful gaze.

Louis picked Marie up and kissed her. She nestled into his neck and for a moment he stood there holding the child close to him before putting her down and lifting the baby, Eileen, from her crib. He kissed her forehead and placed her back quickly so as not to disturb her sleep.

‘Goodbye, Maeve,' he said hugging her, ‘and thanks for everything you've done.'

‘Ah g'w'on with ye, 'tis a pleasure Louis. 'Tis a real pleasure. Off ye go now or ye'll miss the train. And write as soon as ye can.'

‘I will. Goodbye,' he called climbing aboard the cart.

The donkey moved off immediately, pulling the cart over the cobbles which clashed beneath her hooves until once through the gate, the grass muffled the sound.

Louis turned to look at Cat, Maeve and his children framed in the doorway of Monroe as the cart jogged its way along. Nearing the corner of the boreen where the terrain was firmer, Bessie suddenly bolted forwards just as Louis turned round, so denying him the last sight of his wife and children waving goodbye.

Louis rested his bicycle against the wall in Villiers Street underground tunnel and placed his cap on the ground in front of him. He took out his violin, rubbed resin along bow hairs and began to play.

He didn't look at the people passing by as he played, but was aware that some walked briskly past looking away from him if they didn't make a donation. Those that did donate nodded briefly in his direction, and Louis would nod back in gratitude

Ah well, he thought, I can't blame the ones who look away as he knew that he too would have to do that if confronted with someone playing for money. He just hoped that by lunchtime he would have enough to buy a bite to eat at the tea shop in The Strand.

Louis played from memory throughout the morning, grateful for the acoustics, which amplified his music along the tunnels. Warm winds whooshed through the underground, so feeling relatively comfortable he didn't mind playing for the majority of seemingly disinterested passers-by. Occasionally someone would throw a couple of pence his way, and sometimes he got lucky and had a shilling tossed into his cap. Whatever came his way, he was grateful.

After buying some food for himself that day, he would put the rest away in a tin at home. Cat called it the
Goin' Home Tin
.

He withstood the cold in their home each night when he arrived home because without Cat and the children there, he didn't bother to light the fire. He saved the money normally spent on coal.

Nothing he felt was as bad as the cold misery he had experienced in the trenches. Often though, when he had played all day and only earned a few pence, he went to bed at night chilled, exhausted and hungry.

He had lost a lot of weight and as he rarely saw the light of day, his complexion grew more sallow and dark circles had appeared beneath his eyes. But, as he told himself each morning cycling to London from Eltham, he was working, and therefore earning money.

Unable to find work of any other kind, he had been forced to fall back on the one thing that he could do expertly and which cost him nothing to do and that was playing the violin. He didn't have to be nicely dressed to appear publicly as he would if he'd been playing in an orchestra or working in an office. In fact, if he was honest, he rather liked the freedom this life gave him.

The only thing that began to worry him as April drew nearer was the possibility of Cat finding out. He knew she would be furious at his lack of self-respect and could almost hear her scolding him for stooping so low as to beg for a living.

Consequently, his letters to her had been rather vague on the subject of work. He hadn't exactly hidden the truth from her, but after a couple of experiences of losing jobs because the next man would work for less money, he was forced to busk. His one dread was that he would come face to face with someone he knew.

Approaching midday, one particularly miserable Wednesday morning, he was playing Vivaldi's
Spring
, when he noticed a man standing a little way off, watching him. The man was neatly dressed in a dark suit and overcoat with an cream
-coloured silk scarf showing between the lapels. He held a dark trilby hat in his hand.

It occurred to him that maybe the man was someone from the Underground Authorities and would report him for begging. He stopped playing immediately, put his violin away, tied the case to the carrier of his bicycle and headed for the exit. It was not too early to visit the tea shop and he could certainly do with a cup of tea and something to eat. He rode the bicycle quickly up Villiers Street, past Charing Cross Station and crossed over The Strand.

After leaning his bicycle against a building, he entered the teashop. The sound of teacups chinking in the warm steamy atmosphere cheered him as he found a table and ordered a bun and a cup of tea from the waitress.

Just as he was about to bite into his bun, the man who had been watching him in the Underground sat down at his table. Louis was instantly worried that he was in trouble as he'd seen many a tramp moved on in the tunnels and knew begging was a blight on the British public. But since the war it had increased with many thousands of men unable to find work and the most unlikely types forced to sell items such as boxes of matches to earn a living. He looked the man in the eye and put his bun down.

The man shifted in his seat and took off his hat and smiled at him. ‘I hope you don't mind my following you, but I want to speak to you. I've heard you playing most days in the Underground and I've seen you come here before, so thought I may find you here.'

‘Look,' Louis began, ‘I don't mean any harm. I won't return if it's against the law, but I don't have a position right now and I have a wife and three children to provide for.'

The man stopped smiling and looked serious, then from his inside pocket withdrew a business card and handed it to Louis. He read the card –
Roland Andrews, Musician
.

The man continued. ‘I'm not here to chastise you for producing the most wonderful sound I have heard in a long time – other than at the Royal Albert Hall my dear fellow.'

Louis' hands were trembling and his mouth had dried. The last thing he wanted to endure was the shame of telling Cat that he had been prosecuted for busking. He wasn't sure he had heard the man correctly.

‘I'm sorry, what did you say?'

‘I know talent when I see it my man, and I can see you are not the usual run-of-the-mill beggar.'

Louis looked down, embarrassed at hearing someone refer to him as a beggar.

‘I run a small orchestra, nothing very large you'll understand, but we play every weekend in The Strand Palace Hotel.' He paused and leaned forward. ‘I was wondering if you would be interested in auditioning for my orchestra?'

Louis' fear receded instantly; this was marvellous news! The very best piece of luck he'd had in years, to actually be paid for something he had considered the delight of his life! Well, what could be better?

He controlled his excitement, as this was business and felt he should react seriously to the man's proposal. They agreed that Louis would appear at The Strand Palace on the following Saturday for an audition, two hours before the orchestra struck up for the evening repertoire.

Then Roland Andrews's expression changed. ‘Of course you will need an evening dress suit. I trust you have one?'

Louis thought for a moment. ‘It won't be a problem. By the way, I'm Louis Ross,' he said holding out his hand for Roland Andrews to shake, in the hope it would deflect him from questioning him more about an evening suit.

‘Good,' Roland Andrews was smiling, ‘then we'll expect to see you this Saturday at around six o'clock.'

‘I'll be there,' he sounded confident, relieved he was not in trouble, ‘and thank you for this chance.'

‘It's a pleasure,' Roland said standing up. ‘If you play as well on Saturday as I have recently heard, I'm sure things will work out fine. We'll provide the music. Oh, incidentally, I take it you do read?'

‘Yes, I do. I just play from memory normally.'

Roland Andrews left the teashop, put on his hat outside, nodded to Louis through the window and melted into the crowds. When he had disappeared from sight Louis sat thoughtfully for a while unable to take it in. Then he beckoned the waitress to his table and ordered himself a bacon sandwich, something he would never normally do, but suddenly he could see a way out of his poverty.

As he sat munching the sandwich, Louis thought about the evening suit and realised he had no idea how much such an item would cost, except he knew he would be an extravagance he could ill-afford. His next stop, he thought, had better be an outfitters shop. He just hoped they did
Easy Terms
.

Two days after his conversation with Roland Andrews, Louis went to see Lize and his mother as he needed to ask a favour. Much as it went against his principles to borrow money from his mother, he simply had to. He knocked on the door, which was opened immediately by Iris who told him excitedly that they were packing.

‘Oh. What's the big occasion; you're not moving are you?'

‘Yes, we are.'

Lize called her from the kitchen, ‘Who's at the door, Iris?'

‘It's Uncle Louis, Mummy.'

‘Oh, Louis,' Lize smiled making her way to the front door. ‘This is a nice surprise. How are you? Come on in. We're just about to eat, would you like some?'

The smell of cooking was overpowering. His stomach growled, as he hadn't had a proper meal since leaving Fethard.

‘I don't mind if I do, it smells lovely. What is it?'

He sat down on a chair and Iris seated herself next to him. He put his arm around her shoulder and gave her a hug. Lize smiled at him.

‘It's rabbit stew. Iris, get another plate out and give Granny a shout please.'

Louis looked around the kitchen; it was in a state of disarray. It was unlike Lize to be so disorganised.

‘What's going on, Lize?'

‘I wrote and told you, Louis. Didn't you get my letter?'

He thought for a moment and then realised that he hadn't opened it. He had been so preoccupied with events in his own life he had put it in a pocket weeks ago and forgotten about it.

‘No, sorry, I forgot to open it. What did it say?'

‘That Mum and I had bought a little shop, right near where you live and that we are taking possession from the end of this week. Exciting isn't it?'

‘Is this a joke?
'

‘No, not a joke. We really are! That's what all the tea chests are for – we're on the move!'

‘Well that's a surprise, I had no idea this was happening.'

‘That's why I wrote to you, to let you know. We'll be living just around the corner from you Louis, isn't that lovely.'

‘Yes. Yes, I suppose it is.'