The Key of My Heart Chapter 12

Chapter 12 Amber was such an affectionate child.
“I love it when you’re in when I come home,” she said one day, running in to hug me. “I think you’re the best mummy in the whole wide world!” I finally managed to afford another toy for her – she played with the activity table for hours in the little garden, while I weeded and watered the plants. They tasted good too – thank you, Pierre, I thought. And Dave emailed Pierre and told him about the plants. Dave was leaving very soon now – his post-doc had finished, and he was going on to another post-doc, in another university.
“But one day, I’ll get a permanent contract somewhere, and then I can think about settling down, instead of having to go where the work is. Can I visit you sometimes?”
I told him, of course he could, and it wasn’t going to be the same without him next door. Amber was sorry to see him go as well. Amber would sit and do her homework while I made dinner for us both, on my early-shift days. I was, finally, happy. Amber was having ballet lessons – I could just afford them – and we were content together. And I knew that she was having a much better childhood than I ever had, after I went to Gerda’s. She was doing nicely at the ballet – she showed me what she could do. The teacher was pleased with her too – she said Amber was a very musical child, with a nice sense of rhythm and timing. We would sit and talk as we ate together, and I enjoyed her confidences, and was amused by her comments on the world. I was so glad I’d defied Gerda, and run away, all those years ago. And when Amber first became a teenager, things just got even better. She was so helpful and capable now. Things like blocked toilets she just saw as a personal challenge.
“I am not going to be beaten by a piece of inanimate plumbing,” she said, through gritted teeth. She was enjoying her new school as well.
We couldn’t afford to carry on with the ballet lessons – they went up in price as you got older, and the clothes and shoes got expensive too – but she signed up for both the music club and drama club at school, as those were free. Now I was the one coming home first sometimes. At the weekend, both of us would work together in the garden, getting the job done twice as fast, and enjoying each other’s company at the same time. I got another promotion – I was a line cook now: I’d come a long way from washing dishes. And Joe’s end-of-year bonus, on top of my higher wages made it possible to brighten up the place a bit more. I bought new lights, and curtains, and we even bought a bookcase - and then spent far too long at weekends trawling all the second-hand bookshops in the neighbourhood! Next bonus, I was planning to update the kitchen a bit more – I really wanted a better cooker, and we could do with a bit more bench and cupboard space. Amber had new bed-linen – she had really outgrown her ducks-and-anchors patterned stuff. We bought a second-hand bedside table and painted it, and a brand-new bedside light for her, so that she could read in bed at night. The change in Amber began with little things – she stopped eating breakfast with me, but would eat on her own instead. And when I asked her how drama club or music club had gone that day she would just grunt, shrug, and say, “Okay.” Though when she got one of the minor-solo parts in the end of term show, she did light up with enthusiasm for a little while. But it soon faded again. I could put a date to when things got worse yet. I was working a double shift, at the weekend - someone was ill.
“Amber, can you clean the cooker please – it’s looking dreadful! See you tonight, and enjoy your day. I love you lots.” I was not best pleased when I got home, shattered, and found Amber lying on the bed reading, and the cooker still filthy. I made her clean it – which she did with a very bad grace – and told her that she could clean the bathroom as well. She did that with a seriously grumpy attitude too.
“Amber, we both have to help, if we’re to make things work round here. I can’t do it all, you know. You have to pull your weight too.” “Well, that stupid picture can come down off the wall right now! I don’t know why we have it up there!”
I knew why the picture was there. Amber hadn’t wanted to part with it – but had agreed with me that it didn’t really look right in the dining room. And she knew I was fond of it too. She was all set to rip it up, but I stopped her. I mean, I didn’t mind taking it down, but I did mind her ripping up something that had so many nice memories attached to it. I used to tell her stories about the picture, when she was going to sleep.
And it just went from bad to worse. Amber was always sullen, usually surly and rude, and wouldn’t talk to me about what was wrong. And I was fed up too. I’d been enjoying her company more and more – and now this! And I was lonely – David was gone, though he sent postcards from time to time, and my only company in the evening was a grumpy teenager. But I wasn’t going to do a Gerda, and go out trawling for a man, any man. Ma Woodward came round for the rent, as usual – I was paying quarterly by now, because she knew I could be trusted to pay, though I missed seeing her each month.
“You got this place looking real nice now, honey. I thought you would – you had that look about you even back then when you was just a skinny little bit of a thing.”
I thanked her. Then she asked – oh-so-casually – how I was doing, myself. I burst into tears. When I’d mopped myself up a bit I told Ma Woodward the whole story – and showed her the garden, and gave her some tomatoes to take home with her. She listened thoughtfully, and then asked a surprising question.
“What does Amber know about her father?” “Not much. She asked me once about him when she was little. I said he’d never seen her, and started crying – I couldn’t help it. She said, “Don’t cry Mummy. I’m all right. I’ve got you.” And she never asked again. And I’ve never wanted to bring the subject up.”
“Well, if she asks again, I think you should be ready to tell her more. Look, she’ll be back from school soon, won’t she? I’ll hang around: I haven’t seen her for ages, and I miss her. You go off to work as usual. I’ll talk to you later if I think there’s anything you should know.” Amber was genuinely delighted to see Ma Woodward again. After all, they had known each other for years – and I think Amber held a special place in Ma Woodward’s heart, and Amber knew it. But as they began to chat, Ma Woodward could tell that something was wrong. Amber was not her normal open and even-tempered self. She asked Amber how she was doing. And Amber started sounding off about her awful life, and how I was so demanding, and no-one else’s parents asked them to clean the cooker, or the bathroom, and no-one else had to live in a tiny house, and no-one else had such a…the list went on for quite some time. I think she was expecting sympathy. Instead, Ma Woodward said,
“Before you start on ‘no-one else’s mother does this, that or the other’, I think you should know what your mother has done for you.” And she told Amber the things I’d never told her: how I’d run away from Gerda, just to save Amber’s life, the long hours washing dishes, the constant money struggles when Amber was tiny.
“Now how many of your friends’ mothers have done that for their children? And why shouldn’t you help? Is there some rule that says I don’t have to do anything; I should just be waited on, hand and foot?” Ma Woodward paused, and went on in a softer tone.
“Amber, you know you are so dear to me. I lost my only child, because I didn’t have your mother’s courage, and that’s why I helped her, all those years ago. But I want to see you growing up into a fine girl I can be proud of. You got stuff that’s bothering you, you talk to your mother about it – don’t go bottling it up. She’s done nothing to be ashamed of, and plenty to be proud of.” I came home to a rather subdued Amber that evening, busy doing her homework, and with not a lot to say for herself – but it wasn’t the sullen silence of the previous weeks. Then, the next weekend, Amber suddenly said, “Could we go to the park?”
So we did. We sat down together for a little.
“You brought me here so often when I was little. It still looks the same now – except that the rides are tiny, and they used to be so high!”
There was a pause, which I didn’t try to break. Then she said,
“Mum. Can I ask you something?”
“You can ask me anything.” But I braced myself for what was coming next. Instead, she started telling me things.
“There’s this girl at school, in the drama club, and when I got that solo, she like totally flipped, because she thought she should have got it. And then she started going on about you all the time – we were talking about how old our mums were – and saying that you must have been sleeping around loads in your teens, and where was my dad, and did I even know who he was, and…” I listened to the whole nasty story. So then I told her the true story – I didn’t tell her Jasper’s name: I called him Jake – including how much I had loved him, and the letter he had written when I’d told him I was pregnant, Gerda’s determination to make me have an abortion (which she’d heard about from Ma Woodward, but I didn’t know that then), and how I couldn’t bear the thought of that. She listened, thoughtful. “Do I look like him, then?”
“Yes, very much.”
“Do you still love him?”
“Amber, it was a long time ago. It’s all in the past now. I’m not eighteen any more.” Before we left the park, she suddenly said, “Mum, I’m sorry. And thanks for everything.” Things were happier after that. And the house got some more improvements – David called from time to time, usually after he’d been to a conference, and usually with a present for us from somewhere exotic. He was getting to be better known on the international semi-conductor circuit, and he was doing some very interesting research. I finally got a new cooker as well – and an improved kitchen. We bought an old radio from the furniture shop, and David fiddled with it for us, and got it working very nicely indeed. Amber listened to Radio Caudex all the time (and thought Magnus Culmen was like, totally awesome) whilst I preferred plays, short stories, thrillers – anything with words. I was forever re-tuning it to my station! Then one day, I switched the radio on, reached out to re-tune it, and then stood there, my hand dropping back to my side. The singer was Jasper.

The Key of My Heart Chapter 11

Chapter 11 I had enjoyed Amber’s early childhood. Once I had a little money saved, I could relax a bit, stop worrying about tomorrow so much and take pleasure in her affection for me, the way she would run into my arms and hug me. I loved the feel of her warm body snuggling up against mine, her little hands playing in my hair. Now, when I checked the post, I didn’t have to worry about whether I could pay the bills or not. I’d even been able to afford some more clothes for myself. I kept the ones I’d nearly worn out, for when I was decorating or doing something else messy, and threw away the clothes I’d brought with me from Gerda’s. They were too small anyway, and had been cheap to start with. I felt as if I was taking another step away from my past, another step into my future. I still didn’t know what it would be, mind you! I made the most of Amber’s and my time together. She’d be going to school soon, and we wouldn’t have these moments for much longer. All the librarians (and most of the regulars) at the library knew her by now, and commented favourably on her passion for reading – well, being read to! She wasn’t quite reading yet. Pretty soon, Amber was going to grow out of her cot and need a bed. It was time to pay another visit to the second-hand shop, and see what was there this time. And I spotted just what I needed, up one corner. It looked like the local barracks had been having a clear-out – but we were so short of space that bunk beds were the obvious solution. Unless we wanted the whole room to be full of beds, and not a lot else. Amber was really taken by a dolls house that was there – I wished I could have bought it for her, but we still didn’t have the money for unnecessary luxuries. The other thing I saw which we could really do with was a small table and a couple of chairs. Amber was going to need somewhere to sit to do her homework – and I quite fancied owning a table and chairs as well. The furniture belonging to the old lady had long gone – apart from the washstand. I guess no-one used washstands any more. I wasn’t quite sure what sort of people had owned this lot before it ended up here! I arranged a price for the bed, table and chairs with Sugar, who said I might get some money back on the cot if I wanted to sell it, depending on its condition.
“I can’t believe how much the kangaroo has grown,” she said, looking at Amber. “I remember her as just a bump.” And pretty soon, Amber was looking doubtfully at her new bed.
“They’re not very pretty.”
“Wait until we’ve painted them – and put our own bedding on them.”
“We? You mean I can help?”
“Definitely – but you’re wearing an old shirt of mine. I don’t want paint on your good clothes.” Amber’s little bedroom was now our “dining room”.
“So will we paint these as well?”
“Also definitely. We can make them look much better than that.” The library was still one of our favourite places to visit. Amber was reading nicely now – she took to it like a duck to water – and would sit happily in one of the big chairs, lost to the world for hours on end. On wet weekends, when we couldn’t go to the park, we’d head for the library, and she’d read, and I’d try and catch up on all the stuff I didn’t know enough about. Mostly, I was reading up about DIY: I was planning to ask Ma Woodward if I could try and improve the house a bit more. We’d had to buy a new cooker – the old one had died! It was pretty ancient: I think it must have been new when the guy who lived here before me moved in. Ma Woodward had given me the furniture he had left behind, and I was so grateful to her for that – I would have had nothing otherwise.
I was flipping pancakes for Amber one morning, and I suddenly remembered Jasper doing it for me. Most of the time, I managed to forget about him, but then he would come back into my mind, and there I was again, not quite eighteen, and so in love with him. Weekends, Amber and I got to eat breakfast together, in our little dining room! I’d fixed up a shelf for her school stuff over her bed (and under mine!) so that she had somewhere to keep her books, I’d have loved to be able to buy books for her but, failing that, there was always the library. And I needed new nightwear. This dressing gown had come from Gerda’s with me, and was going to fall apart any day now.
“What would you like to do today?”
“The park?” Amber said hopefully. “And the library?” And the park it was. Amber still enjoyed the rides there, and wasn’t too big for them yet. She liked the hopscotch grid too. I looked up at the billboard behind her, advertising Magnus Culmen’s latest album. I knew most of the songs from it – I’d heard them all at the radio at Joe’s umpteen times. The kitchen radio was always tuned to the mainstream pop station, Radio Caudex. I’d never heard any of Jasper’s songs on it though, and I sometimes wondered what had become of his singing dream.
I shook my head. Thinking about Jasper was not good for me. I wasn’t going to hanker after a man. I wasn’t going to make Gerda’s mistakes, and go from man to man, because I thought I couldn’t be complete on my own. Or couldn’t cope. I was going to succeed at bringing up Amber on my own, and I wasn’t going to put her through the hard times I’d been through, with Gerda’s procession of men in and out of our lives. Some days I was on a late shift at Joe’s place, and was working when Amber was due home from school. Those nights she’d go to the library and do her homework there, and I’d collect her when I was finished my shift. She was so well known there, I wasn’t worried about her safety – and she knew not to go off with anyone but to wait for me. We both liked it better when I was on an early shift though. “I can think better when you’re around. I think you help my brain work well.” That was such a sweet thing for her to say that it made my eyes fill up with tears – and then I had to explain that I was crying because I was happy, and not sad! David called round from time to time, and sometimes took me out for a drink and the pub at the back of the library. It was a bit quiet and slightly old-fashioned – like the rest of the area – but it suited David, and I liked it well enough too.
He was a bit lonely now that the other three had left the house. Their places had been taken by three Malaysian Ph.D. students.
“And they’re all very pleasant, and quiet, but there’s the language barrier. Their English is okay, but it’s not their first language, and they don’t use it among themselves.”
He grinned suddenly, remembering something. “I remember the first time Pierre got really fed up about something, and started swearing in French – he knew Priya and Niamh wouldn’t understand him – and he was really shocked when I answered him in French too! He’d thought I was American from my accent, not Canadian, and didn’t realise my French was as good as his!” I could tell how much he missed the others, and so I went out with him from time to time, and let him pay for the babysitter for Amber too.
“Fride, I’m a post-doc now, which means something approaching a salary, rather than a student grant. I can’t offer to take you out, and then have it costing you money. And I don’t exactly do extravagant evenings, now do I?”
I laughed at that comment, delivered in his usual deadpan style, but with a twinkle in his eye, and let him pay the babysitter. But I wasn’t going to depend on him like I’d depended on Jasper. I enjoyed our evenings though – I liked his sense of humour, and he played a mean game of shuffleboard. I tried to look intelligent when he talked to me about his work – it was all to do with terahertz imaging, and followed on nicely from his Ph. D. apparently.
“But what use is it?”
“Well, it looks as though there’s going to be some useful medical applications – looking at skin cancer, for instance. You can’t use it for deeper cancers, because…” and then it all got a bit technical again. He noticed I’d glazed over after a few sentences, stopped, and laughed at himself. He invited me out after he’d been to Santa Fe, to the International Conference on Superlattices, Nanostructures and Nano-devices. He’d been presenting a paper this time, and not just a poster – apparently, this was a big step up.
“I picked up a present for you and Amber – I hope you both like it.”
I did – it was a ceramic gecko, in just the right colours to look good on the wall.
“It’s lovely – thank you, David! How did your paper go?”
“Really well! I had a good time there. A bit hot, for a boy from Canada, but fun.” And then he entertained me with stories about the various eccentricities of some of the people he’d met there. David’s present brightened up the “dining room” no end. And Amber and I were getting brightened up too - I’d spent money on clothes for me (well, new nightwear anyway) and clothes for Amber too.

“Darling, I’ll buy you some top-label threads.
Wherever you go, you’ll turn people’s heads.
So will you be my beauty and my belle?
And will you be my dreamboat girl as well?”

I sang to her, before we went shopping. That song Jasper and I had made together was still her favourite – the one I had to sing to her when she was ill, or woke from a bad dream.

“But I do not want your designer threads.
Why do I need to turn people’s heads?
I cannot stay a beauty and a belle.
As time moves on, my looks will change as well.”

Amber sang the next verse back at me. She knew the song as well as I did now. She had a lovely voice – they’d noticed that at school, and she was already in the choir, and beginning to get small solo parts, even though she was one of the younger singers. Pierre, before he left, had suggested that I started growing some food – easy stuff like salad ingredients that were expensive to buy, and tasted so much better home-grown. I’d given Amber some packets of seeds for her last two birthdays, and she had a little flower border that she was really proud of. The kitchen that I’d inherited with the house had been getting steadily shabbier and shabbier. Joe’s end-of-year bonuses had helped me replace the decaying units, and the dying fridge, and the time I’d spent reading up on basic DIY had given me the confidence to tackle replacing the cracked tiles. Ma Woodward had given me her permission to do it.
“If you make a total mess of it, I’ll take the repair costs out of your deposit,” she said. “But my guess is that you’ll do a fine job.”
And I had! Amber had helped me, and between the two of us, we’d made the whole place look much better. We’d been so pleased with ourselves that we’d tackled the bathroom too. That looked loads better. Ma Woodward had let us put in a washbasin (I didn’t do the plumbing – we got someone in to do that, and Ma Woodward paid half), so now we didn’t have to clean our teeth at the kitchen sink any more. The house and garden were beginning to be really cosy. Sometimes I wondered about moving to somewhere a bit bigger, but that would cost me more money. Staying here meant that I could save something each month. And my savings were there for Amber, in case anything happened to me. And I liked Ma Woodward – and she liked me, and Amber too.
I was really beginning to feel settled, and successful. My job was as secure as any job ever is – I liked working at Joe’s, and had been promoted twice now. And I felt as though I was doing a good job as a mother. Amber was doing well at school, and better than that, we were happy together. I just wasn’t expecting the change that Amber becoming a teenager would make to everything.

The Key of My Heart Chapter 10

Chapter 10 For once, I had a bit of spare time. I lay back on the chair, intending to doze off, but as my mind and body relaxed, I found myself thinking over the last four or so years since I moved house, and ended up as part of Pete-the-drummer’s family. I hadn’t been meaning to move in when I first came for a visit. Chris had arranged for Pete and I to get together and see if our playing styles matched each other, and then Pete’s mum had said why didn’t I come for a visit – they had plenty of space, and Pete and I could get some more playing time in together. I wasn’t sure what she’d be like, though she sounded friendly enough on the phone, but I took to her straight away.
“Pete’s in the barn, I think,” she said. Turned out that Pete was a farmer’s son, and yes, they really did have a barn near the house. And he was in there, drumming away like mad. This was the old barn, apparently, the original one. The new ones were out of sight of the house. The barn was more of a music room and makeshift recording studio now!
“My parents chucked me out into here when they couldn’t stand the noise any longer.” Pete sighed and shook his head. “They just don’t appreciate good drumming.” Pete had a younger brother, Charles, a little sister, Jenny, who was the youngest of the family, and an older brother and sister, both of whom had left home. Jack was a doctor, and Liz was a teacher.
“And I want to be a musician, and Jenny’s little head is totally stuffed with brains. Luckily, Charles wants to take over the farm, so there’s someone to carry on the family tradition. We keep telling dad he shouldn’t have married such a smart woman.”
Charles looked up from the game of chess he was losing to Jenny.
“Well, I got his brains. But I’ll still have to study if I want to be a good farmer, alas.” I liked Pete – he had a goofy sense of humour, and the worst line in knock-knock jokes that I ever heard. But the best thing was that we played well together – we overlapped enough in style to be able to make a good sound, but I was learning from his musical style, and he was learning from mine. I liked eating with them too – mealtimes were lively and fun, round the big table in the kitchen. The conversation was sometimes a bit earthy, especially when animals giving birth were involved, but that didn’t bother me too much. As the fortnight came to a close, I realised I was going to be sorry to leave. But even with all the busyness of the household, the practising with Pete, and the general administrative stuff that Chris Deakin was sorting out for us, my thoughts kept turning to Elf. Where was she? Was she all right? Why hadn’t she been in touch? There was no forwarding address for her, from her old address, but she did have an address for me. She could write to me via Chris’s office. Why hadn’t she? Back then, I was still expecting to hear from her at any moment. It was Pete’s dad, Tom, who came up with the idea in the first place.
“We don’t want to stop Pete having a chance to do this music stuff, if that’s what he really wants to do. But I do need his help on the farm – Charles is still at school at the moment, and I don’t want to have to take on another worker. So how about we give you board and lodging, in exchange for your help on the farm – and you and Pete can practise together easily. And if things really take off for both of you, well, we’ll have to re-think everything then. And we’ve got enough space in this house to put you up, easily.” It was a really good idea, and it worked beautifully. Mum came over, with all my stuff, and met the family. She really liked them too. If it was a business matter, I’d ask my dad, but when it comes to people, it’s my mum’s opinion I value.
She met Jake, the record producer as well, and took to him too. Which surprised me, as he’s fairly into the bottom line of costs and so on.
“But it isn’t his first passion,” she said. “What he’s really passionate about is the music – but he’s practical about it as well, so he’s smart with the money side.”
But he’d said exactly what Chris had said – that having a great star signed up was wonderful, but actually, you could make a living from a stable of reliable performers.
Mum left, and Pete and I settled into a routine of farmwork, practising and performing. We were definitely getting better and better! I got to know the other two better as well. Charles would sit there on an evening, fighting with his homework, while Jenny raced through hers with ease – and often ended up helping Charles with his. She was the one who came up with the name for our two-man band.
“Peter means a stone, and Jasper is a semi-precious stone, so I think you should play on that. How about Greenstone?”
“Greenstone? Not a bad idea, Jenny-wren.”
“And I tell you what,” she went on,” write it lower-case all the way through – greenstone, like that, with no capitals. I’ll look at some good fonts for you to use as well.” Pete and I – no, greenstone – were getting gigs often enough for us to feel pleased. We did a mixture of covers and my own stuff, and people seemed to like us. We’d done a first album: my stuff and old jazz songs with a new twist, and it was selling well enough to please both Jake and Chris. We weren’t overnight sensations, and we weren’t going to be. We were two young men who were getting to make music in front of an audience, and that was enough for Pete – and nearly enough for me. And the time had slipped by. My hair had got longer, Pete’s shorter.
“Of all the things I had to inherit from my grandfather, it had to be his early balding, didn’t it,” he complained – and went for a very short haircut. We released a second album, and again it sold well enough to please everyone. We weren’t going to get rich at this, but we were definitely breaking even. We got played on niche radio stations, and on late-night slots, but we got re-bookings from places we had played before.
Sally liked having someone else around who knew what to do in a kitchen, and sometimes she and Tom argued over who was going to get me that day. I was content enough – just. Sometimes, when I was doing something like making pancakes for Pete and me after a late night the night before, I would suddenly remember making them for Elf, and the memory would be sharp and clear, so that I expected to look up and see her sitting at the table, waiting for me. Tom came in from the fields after I’d made them, and grabbed a plate. Sally had come in and snaffled some as well.
“I shan’t need either of you today – you can both have the day off. Make the most of it, as the next week’s going to be really busy!” And so here I was, trying to relax and drift off to sleep, but Elf was haunting me still. She was like a shadow at the edges of my mind, almost out of sight, but not quite. I still had the ring I had bought, hidden away safely and secretly. I couldn’t bear to throw it away, couldn’t bear to look at it. I gave up trying to relax, and decided to join Pete in the barn instead. The trouble was, I had no-one to talk to about Elf. No-one else had even met her, apart from Chris. I couldn’t exactly say, well, there was this girl, and I was going to ask her to marry me, but she vanished. I’d asked Chris to try and trace her, and he’d done his best, he said, but there was no sign of her. But no reports of her death, either, which took one worry off my mind. She must have changed her mind about me – but why? I’d loved her so much – and thought she loved me too. Jenny came home while we were practising, and came to the barn, attracted by the noise. She looked a bit pale, and when Pete asked her how her day had gone, she looked unhappier still.
“I really hate that school. I’m sick and tired of being told I’m a swot – and fat, and ugly, and everything else. All the girls in my class want to do is talk about boys all the time. And what shade of blonde they’re going to dye their hair next, and which nail decorations are the nicest.”
Pete and I exchanged glances. This really wasn’t fair on Jenny.
“Can’t Charles help at all?”
“Oh Pete, he’s in the top year now. He’s on the other side of the school. He doesn’t even see what’s going on. Never mind – can I join in with you, playing, before I do my homework?” So Jenny joined in our jamming session – she played the piano rather well, like she did most things. But I could see that she wasn’t happy – in fact, she was very unlike the happy girl she’d been when I arrived here. And the change had come with the change of school. Was there anything we could do to make things any better for her? I did feel sorry for her – and it took my mind off Elf, that shadow girl, drifting round the edges of my mind.