Master Of Maramba

“You mean in terms of her relationship to her stepmother?” Royce asked perceptively.

James trusted this man so he gave an unhappy nod. “Like Carrie, my sister was so beautiful. Unforgettable really. When she died—a tragic accident, she fell and struck her head—Carrie was only three. Her father nearly went out of his mind. Jeff and I have never been close friends so I wasn’t able to help him as I could have had things been different. He started to drink pretty heavily. He hadn’t before and he doesn’t now, but out of his despair came a very quick second marriage. Glenda, his present wife, was his secretary. It appears she’d always been in love with him.”

“So she made things happen,” Royce said quietly.

“Yes.” James swallowed hard. “Melissa was born soon after. Carrie was never wanted by her stepmother. Her father adores her but he doesn’t understand her any more than he understood my sister. Glenda is always very careful when Jeff’s around but the relationship seen through my eyes and my wife’s has never been caring. Not affectionate. Certainly not loving. To compound it all Carrie was by far the brighter child in the family. As you’ll know from that photograph she was the prettiest little girl imaginable. She shone in the classroom. Right from the beginning she was brilliant at the piano, which I insisted she learn in remembrance of her mother who was a fine pianist, as was my mother. It runs in the family.”

“So the stepmother was not only jealous of her husband’s attention to his firstborn she was jealous and resentful of her capabilities,” Royce remarked.

“I’m afraid so. Carrie was always classed as a gifted child. Glenda saw the two girls in competition, which was sad for Melissa. Melissa had her mother’s views and attitudes forced on her. I think the two girls could have been good friends but Glenda didn’t want that. She wouldn’t permit it.”

“And Catrina’s father didn’t put a stop to this?” Royce asked almost curtly.

James shook his head. “Glenda is clever. Outwardly she’s as proud of Carrie and her achievements as ever Jeff is. Inwardly I think she struggles with her rage. She was thrilled at the thought of Carrie’s securing a place at the Julliard. That would have taken Carrie off her hands. Very very sadly it didn’t happen.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t know,” Royce said, like he bitterly regretted the fact.

“I think I would have told you at some point but you’ve had lots of problems of your own, Royce,” James answered in a conciliatory voice.

“Your niece is very unhappy.”

It couldn’t be denied. “She’s struggling to overcome it. She hasn’t touched the piano since the accident.”

“So what is she doing with herself?” Royce McQuillan asked outright. “Teaching? That would be very hard at this point.”

“Very. Her whole training has been geared to performance.”

“I don’t think she’s governess material,” Royce said. “Too many strong emotions working through her. A trauma to battle down. I was looking for a quiet capable young woman who wouldn’t be discontented far away from boyfriends and the city life.”

“I agree. I don’t think Carrie is governess material, either, but she made it clear to me she wants to get right away from the world of music. For a time.”

“How long?” Royce asked in his direct manner.

‘Who would know?” There was deep concern in James’ voice. “I think Carrie feels all the pain and bitter disappointments like it was yesterday. She’s right about one thing. She’s great with children. Or she was until her world changed. She had such sparkle. Such vitality. Saddest to me is she’s lost a lot of her natural confidence.”

“Her accident has made her fearful?”

“Of certain things, yes,” James agreed. “Her father would never hear of her leaving home. She’s tried before but a large extent with her studies she’s been dependent on him. He wouldn’t thank me for interfering in any way. As I say, we don’t get on. But Carrie told me today she is determined on moving out.”

Royce didn’t give that another moment’s consideration. “It sounds like the obvious solution. Where will she go?” He narrowed his brilliant eyes.

“Wherever she wants to go. Liz and I will help her. Carrie is the love of our lives. She’s given us such joy. She’ll have a battle with her father, though. He’s a born controller.” James’ largely hidden antipathy came through.

“Except he lost control all those years ago.”

James nodded. “All that’s history. Almost any other young woman would have made a better mother for Carrie than Glenda. A better mother for Melissa in a way although Glenda dotes on her. They present a united front socially but it’s really a dysfunctional family.”

“Then it can’t be nice for Catrina to be around.”

In that moment Royce McQuillan made the decision to act.

Carrie spent another hour in town drifting through a department store, buying nothing. Nothing appealed. She was simply putting off the moment she had to return home. There was such a soul-destroying drawing up of sides; Glenda and Melissa; she and her father. Instead of taking any advantage from the situation Carrie had found it a real burden knowing her father enjoyed her company better than her sister’s. Not only that, he made no bones about showing it. His insensitivity had created many problems. She’d had the unenviable role of being the favourite. It had caused a lot of pain. On all sides.

Now that Carrie was a woman, Glenda hated her. Carrie felt almost positive Glenda felt no guilt because of it. Now that she wasn’t going overseas to continue her studies Glenda was coming more and more into the open. When her father wasn’t around Glenda didn’t hesitate to use a cutting tongue. She did it with an air of triumph, knowing Carrie would never complain to her father. It had always been so. Carrie, even on Glenda’s admission, had never used her unique position in her father’s life to gain the ascendency or come between husband and wife. But it hadn’t won her Glenda’s friendship. That was the irony.

Driving into the garage, Carrie reflected the position and delightful appearance of their beautiful old colonial riverside home that proclaimed her father’s affluence. The interior decoration was all Glenda. Glenda and the interior designer currently in favour. The spacious high-ceilinged rooms were choked with an overabundance of everything. Too much money gone mad, in Carrie’s opinion. She always felt trapped inside.

The splendid Steinway her father had brought for her when she was eleven years old and already showing signs of promise had been banished from the living room to the soundproof studio Glenda had convinced her father “darling little Carrie” must have. Her father hadn’t taken all that much persuasion for the good reason much as he loved her and was proud of her successes, he couldn’t bear to hear her practising. Her father, she had long since accepted, would never make a music lover. She had given up wondering how her mother and father had come together in the first place. “Sex appeal,” James maintained. “Jeff always was this great big handsome virile guy. They had little or nothing in common.”

Glenda and her father had a good deal in common; likes, dislikes, mutual interests. That didn’t prevent her father revealing on rare occasions the unique place Caroline, his first wife, had had in his life. To this day Carrie thought he was tormented by it. The sudden violent loss. The end of a golden period in his life. A golden period that had never really started for her. She was deprived and she knew it. No one should have to do without a mother. Her immersion in her studies, her preoccupations with succeeding as a pianist, could have been the result of too little bonding at home. Her music had shut her off from Glenda’s own unresolved resentments. She had poured out her own yearnings on a keyboard. Now she had the feeling of being profoundly at a disadvantage. At Glenda’s mercy unless she moved out. Ultimately though, it was her father she would have to confront. This was the father who had told her not so long ago if she left home it would break his heart.

She let herself into the house quietly, coming in through the rear door so she could escape to her bedroom. She couldn’t let these feelings of isolation get a hold on her. It was a tragedy her stepmother and her own sister offered her no support at this bad time, but she wasn’t alone. She had James and Liz, a whole lot of friends. The only thing was most of her friends were fellow musicians. Their careers went on. Hers had badly faltered.

Someone was in her room. She knew it before she opened the door. Melissa was standing in front of the mirrored wall of wardrobes, holding one of Carrie’s evening dresses to her body. The dress she had last performed in. It had a shell top, a beautiful full skirt, and was a rich orange, a difficult colour but it suited her.

“Hi, what are you doing?” Carrie tried not to show any irritation. Melissa was always borrowing her things when she had much more of her own. Items she wouldn’t have loaned under any circumstances. Melissa wasn’t a lender.

“We didn’t expect you home,” Melissa said, continuing to preen. “I’d like to wear this on Saturday. Can I?”

Carrie had to smile.

“Mel it won’t fit you,” she pointed out reasonably. “The skirt will be too long, for one thing.” Melissa was petite if well covered. “It won’t even suit you. We’re different sizes, different styles. I love you in red. It brings your colouring to life.” She said it naturally, helpfully, but it angered Melissa.

“That’s it! Go on, remind me. I need bringing to life.”

Carrie didn’t worsen the situation by saying she did. “We all benefit from wearing the colours that suit us. Don’t get cranky for no reason,” Carrie implored.

“Oh, and you aren’t?” Melissa turned around to throw the dress on the bed. “The tragedy queen with the little smashed finger. Who said you were going to be a concert pianist anyway? If you’d ever got there you’d have probably found plenty better than you. You were just a big fish in a little bowl. New York is the centre of the world.”

“Well, I’m not going, Mel. So settle down. I’m not a whinger, either, so don’t try pinning that on me.”

“Why, will you tell Dad?” Melissa looked back belligerently, her voice on the rise, a pretty girl, dark curly hair, hazel eyes, a little overweight, but the expression on her face made Carrie want to give up.

“We can’t talk, can we?” she said quietly, feeling pretty well numb inside. “We’re sisters. That’s wasting a valuable relationship.”

“Sisters?” Melissa shouted, her face energised by jealousy. She followed Carrie up closely, hands on hips, obviously spoiling for a fight. “Does that mean we’re supposed to love one another?”

“It happens in most families.” Carrie turned, picking up her dress and carrying it to the wardrobe.

“But you’re too good for us, Carrie. Too clever for Mum and me. Mum says having you around has ruined our lives.”

Though the sort of stuff Glenda fed her daughter made Carrie feel sick to the stomach, she faced her sister calmly. “How do you want me to react, Mel? Scream back? I was little more than a baby when my mother died. Three. I didn’t want to come between anyone. I’d have adored having my own mother. You might think of that.”

“Oh, for God’s sake, the gorgeous, the beautiful, the adorable Caroline.” Melissa’s pretty face was working.

“Who died when she was only a few years older than me,” Carrie retaliated. “Thank you, Melissa. Doesn’t that defuse your rage a little? She had her whole life in front of her.”

“But haven’t you ever thought she’s more glorious in death,” Melissa cried almost hysterically. “That’s what Mum says.”