45 Julia
45
Julia
September, 2002 – Bonn
A gentle breeze wafted through the music room. Christoph lay on the sofa, thin and wan. Julia cast him a worried glance. He’d lost all interest in food since they’d been back. Not even a meal from Sylvie’s recipe book could tempt him. He was on palliative care now, and very weak.
Daniel was outside, overhauling the garden. It seemed to be his way of coping with his helplessness at Christoph’s diagnosis. He was dutiful and attentive to Christoph’s practical needs, but Julia was fairly sure that the two of them hadn’t talked things over properly yet.
‘Will you play me something?’ Christoph asked.
‘I’ll try,’ Julia said.
She went over to the piano. She’d lost heart with cooking too. The recipe book was stowed on a shelf in the kitchen. Daniel had been shopping for convenience food – frozen meals they could easily heat up, cold meats and cheeses, tins of soup. Julia was grateful. She couldn’t face cooking at the moment.
Today, Julia played Christoph a piece by Chopin. Unexpectedly, she managed it from start to finish without stumbling.
‘That was note perfect,’ he said.
‘Sebastian will be pleased.’ He was flying over to Bonn the next day to oversee the recording of her piece for the Queen Elisabeth competition. ‘But is note perfect enough? My hands felt fine, but it was like my heart had disconnected from the music.’
Christoph tilted his head. ‘To play properly, your heart needs to be strong too.’
Julia closed the piano lid. ‘Hearing about your love for Sylvie gave me hope.’
‘And perhaps your feelings for Daniel … and his for you.’ Christoph smiled, and his eyes twinkled knowingly.
Julia glanced at him. ‘How did you guess?’
Christoph smiled. ‘I may be old, but it was evident in Paris. Perhaps I was wrong to warn you off him six years ago.’
The sky had darkened. It looked like rain. Julia got up and switched on the lamp beside the sofa. ‘I don’t think either of us were ready then,’ she said. ‘And even now, I’m not sure the timing is right.’
‘If you mean my illness, that shouldn’t stop you.’
Julia shook her head. ‘It’s not just that. We’ve each got our own battles to face. There’s my hands and the piano to sort out. Daniel’s just been made redundant and will need to focus on finding a new job. And’ – she hesitated – ‘so much is unresolved between the two of you. I think it holds him back.’
Christoph sighed. ‘I don’t know how to talk to him, how to make it better.’
‘He was very upset about his memory of seeing Sylvie in Paris that time.’
Christoph rubbed his eyes. ‘It must have hurt to learn that I’d been unfaithful to his mother. It’s not something I’m proud of.’
‘I think he always suspected something,’ Julia said. ‘Over the years, Hilde blamed the fact that you’d been unfaithful for her state of mind. Daniel tried to stick up for you, but you were away touring, and that drove a wedge between the two of you and he grew closer to Hilde. Finding out that it was Sylvie who you met in Paris in 1978 has really hit him hard.’
Christoph closed his eyes. ‘I wish I could remember that time in 1978, and then maybe I could explain it to him. I’m afraid there’s a void that I just don’t know how to fill.’
Julia came over and tucked the blanket around him. ‘Don’t fret, there’s still time.’
But she was worried. When the awful day came, the answers Daniel needed would die with Christoph. How would Daniel cope? Julia was afraid that, with everything else they each had to deal with, Christoph’s passing and the unresolved wounds from the past would leave a hole in Daniel’s heart too big for her to mend.
The next day, Julia left Christoph with a hot-water bottle on his stomach and Bach playing on the stereo while she went to meet Sebastian. As she was closing the front gate, Daniel came down the street, the wheelbarrow loaded with plants.
‘Thank goodness I’ve caught you,’ he said. He dusted his hands on his jeans. ‘How are you feeling?’
‘Terrible,’ Julia replied. ‘I’m dreading it.’
Daniel took hold of her hands and clasped them tightly. ‘I heard you playing for Christoph yesterday. It sounded phenomenal. I’m no expert, but I couldn’t detect a single fault. I bet you’ll do amazingly today.’
‘I’m not sure I should be going with Christoph so ill.’
Daniel drew her closer and stroked a strand of hair back from her forehead. ‘Of course you should go. This is what you want, isn’t it? A place in the competition? Christoph knows how much this means to you; he wants you to do it.’
‘Thanks.’ She glanced at the front window. ‘Will you keep an eye on him? He’s feeling dreadful about Sylvie and what happened in 1978. He wishes he could remember more and explain it.’
Daniel nodded. ‘I know. I catch him looking at me sometimes, but he’s too confused to know what to say. It must be awful to lose great chunks of your memory. He seems lost in the gaps and he doesn’t know how to get out.’
Julia squeezed his hand. ‘The recipes seemed to help, but I’m not sure he has any appetite for food or for remembering now.’
Daniel cupped her cheeks. ‘Look, I’ll take these plants to the garden and water them, and then I’ll go and sit with him. I don’t want you to worry. You need to focus on playing.’
Julia smiled, relieved. ‘Thank you, Daniel, that would be amazing. I’d be so glad if the two of you could reach some kind of understanding.’
He looked at her, sadness in his eyes. ‘I know you mean well, Julia. But I’m not sure that’s possible. There’s so much information still missing. Maybe it’s for the best. More details about Sylvie might make it harder for me to accept it all – the affair with Sylvie, the unfaithfulness to my mother. And I really am trying to do that, for Christoph’s sake.’
‘I know,’ Julia said.
‘Now remember,’ he said, encouragingly, ‘you are incredibly talented. Beethoven should feel lucky you’ve chosen to play his notes, when you’re so good at composing your own.’ He raised his eyebrows. ‘And don’t forget to send my regards to Sebastian.’
Julia smiled. ‘I won’t.’
Daniel kissed her on the cheek, then drew back with a quick smile and took hold of the wheelbarrow. Julia watched him disappear through the side gate and into the garden.
Since they’d been back from Paris he’d been affectionate but restrained, almost as if he was holding back from something more. Julia didn’t know what lay behind it. But she felt a sense of hesitancy too. As if they were both wary of going too far and getting hurt. She sighed and thought of the studio performance that awaited her. At least the piano was one thing she had begun to feel a little more certain of.
The recording studio was in a converted townhouse near the centre of Bonn. Sebastian was already there, talking to the sound engineer. Julia’s stomach churned. Playing in front of Christoph was one thing. Playing in front of Sebastian would be nerve-wracking.
‘You’re here.’ The relief on his face was palpable.
‘Are you angry with me for cancelling Salzburg? I’m sorry it was Anna who rang and not me.’
Sebastian rubbed his cheek. ‘I wasn’t angry,’ he said. ‘I was just disappointed that you couldn’t have told me yourself. She also told me about Christoph’s diagnosis. It must be awful.’
Julia had been strong for Christoph, but now, with Sebastian’s concerned eyes on her, she faltered.
‘I can’t take it in,’ she said, tears pricking her eyes. ‘There’s literally nothing he can do but wait until …’ She swallowed a sob. ‘He wants me to keep playing. Says it’s the best gift I could give him, just to carry on as normal.’
Sebastian squeezed her arm. ‘Are you sure you can do this?’
Julia nodded, thinking of Daniel’s encouragement. ‘But can I play with my back to the sound desk? I’m not ready to face an audience yet.’
‘Of course,’ Sebastian said. ‘And don’t worry. When the time’s right, we’ll build you back up, small audiences first, then larger crowds.’
Julia recorded the ‘Moonlight Sonata’ in a single take. She didn’t think about the sound engineers or Sebastian watching from the other side of the glass. She didn’t think about Daniel or Christoph. Her mind was blank. The notes were simply stepping stones taking her from one end of the piece to the other.
‘That was good,’ Sebastian said. He stepped over the microphone wires. ‘Different to how you’ve played it before, but hopefully good enough.’
Julia wiped her forehead. ‘You’ll send it to the judges?’
‘As soon as the CD’s been burned.’ He glanced at his watch. ‘Why don’t I take you for lunch to celebrate?’
‘I can’t,’ Julia said, gathering up her bag. ‘I don’t want to leave Christoph for long.’
‘Of course,’ Sebastian said. ‘I’ll let you know as soon as I hear anything.’
The house was quiet when Julia returned. Christoph was asleep on the sofa. She sat for a moment, watching him. He looked peaceful enough, but he winced now and then, as if in pain.
The afternoon sun lit up the photograph frames on the mantelpiece. Christoph and Hilde on their wedding day. Daniel under a Christmas tree playing with a toy farm. Daniel looked guarded, as if he already knew more than he should.
‘Julia, is that you?’ Christoph murmured. ‘How did it go?’
‘It was strange,’ she said, coming to sit beside him. ‘Normally I see pictures in my head, memories and colours. But this time, there was nothing. Only the notes.’
‘Music is like that sometimes. That’s why it’s therapeutic in overcoming grief. At least, that’s what I found.’ He reached for a glass of water and took a sip.
Julia considered his words. ‘You think the numbness is a way of coping?’
‘Yes, but if it goes on too long, that’s not good. That’s why I gave up performing and concentrated on teaching. Something died in me.’
‘Can you recall what happened?’
Christoph shook his head. ‘No, only that I stopped doing concerts.’
Julia thought for a moment. ‘I remember reading an interview you did in the BBC Music Magazine . It must have been 1999, because I was eighteen and I’d entered the BBC Young Musician of the Year competition. You said that, to perform, a pianist needed deep wells of emotional and spiritual energy, and that in the late seventies your energy simply dried up.’
‘Perhaps I was burnt out. It happens, as you well know,’ Christoph replied, glancing at Julia’s hands.
‘Yes, but you never returned to the stage. I always regretted that I’d been too young to see you perform. All the reviews said you had an extraordinary gift for holding the audience in the palm of your hand from the minute you began playing. I wonder why you didn’t go back to it.’
Disconnected thoughts came together in Julia’s mind. Something had died in Christoph the day he discovered the empty apartment. Perhaps 1978, when Daniel and Christoph saw Sylvie on the street corner, was another watershed moment.
‘It could be linked to meeting with Sylvie in Paris that time with Daniel,’ she said. ‘If it were possible, would you like to remember all this, or is it too painful?’
‘I do want to know, desperately, before it’s too late. But I can’t see how it’s possible.’ He flinched, pressing against his stomach. ‘Could you get me my painkillers, please?’
Julia went to the kitchen and took the pills from the drawer. She was about to go back with them when she caught sight of the recipe book on the shelf. Her heart thudded as she took it down and flicked through the pages.
The back door opened. Daniel came in, wiping his boots on the mat. He caught sight of the book in her hands. ‘What are you doing?’
‘There are still a couple of recipes left in this book. I’m hoping they might link him back to meeting Sylvie in 1978, and maybe the events leading up to it.’
Daniel stared at her. ‘I’m not sure, Julia …’
‘We have to try.’
The next recipe was for Filets de Maquereaux à la Flamande. In tiny handwriting, Sylvie had written: After what happened today, I will never make this recipe again .
Daniel read it and bit his thumb. ‘What if this meal makes things worse?’
Julia straightened her shoulders. ‘We have to try, Daniel, and hope for the best. There might not be another chance to find out what happened.’
Later, after she’d settled Christoph with the painkillers, Julia cooked the mackerel. She took the fish out of the frying pan and put it on to a plate with some steamed vegetables. Daniel fetched a knife and fork. Julia felt a surge of hope that the recipe would reignite Christoph’s memories and bridge the gap between him and Daniel. They carried the food through to the music room, where Christoph was just waking up.
‘That smells delicious,’ he said, edging himself up.
Julia put the tray on his knee.
‘It’s from Sylvie’s book,’ she said. ‘I think it’s important we finish what we started … before it’s too late.’
Christoph smiled sadly. ‘I appreciate the gesture, but this food won’t make any difference. My memories won’t go further than the day she left.’
‘Just try a bit, it can’t do any harm,’ Daniel said, placing the cutlery by his side.
Christoph speared a piece of mackerel and chewed it slowly. He managed a few mouthfuls, then put the fork down.
‘Nothing’s coming back to me. I’m sorry.’
‘It’s okay,’ Daniel said, clearly disappointed.
‘Don’t worry about it,’ Julia said.
She felt a pang of sorrow for them both. Daniel had been too young to understand or grasp the context of what he’d witnessed in 1978, and Christoph was too ill and old now to remember. She’d been foolish to hope that Sylvie’s recipe would make a difference. Perhaps it was only food after all.