Without A Song

Chapter TwentyOne: Angels

The metamorphosis from sunshine and laughter in the restaurant to washed up, washed out, back at Huntly Mill was as sudden as it was unexpected. As soon as we entered the house, the fun went missing, each of us suddenly preoccupied with our own thoughts, none of us heeding the others. The house was deathly quiet. Patricia was in the kitchen when we entered but no one said a word to her.

"Leanne? Rupert?" Patricia was concerned.

"It has been a draining day for everyone Mother, all will be fine."

Individually, the rest of the house drifted off to their own rooms, none of us totally conscious of another. Patricia cornered me as I gathered up Nicole's present to head back to my suite.

"Stephen, what's been going on?"

"We've had a great afternoon, had a good meal and relaxed. I also had a conversation with Sue. She wants a divorce."

There was nothing else to say. I went to recover my washing from the utility room and returned to my suite to do some packing. Maybe it was me, maybe it was nothing. The air crackled. Nobody spoke, they just drifted. I knew it couldn't stay that way. This was a fun house, made for laughter. I'd enjoyed great times in this house. This was somewhere that had offered me warmth, respite and love. I'd not forgive myself if I left this empty wound in the home of my friends. Back on the hill when things were getting us down we partied, so why not here? I showered, dressed in my swimmies and decoratively wrapped my body in one of the spare bed sheets from my room, toga style. With safety pins from the car's first aid kit, the whole lot was held together most admirably. Ditching my footwear in favour of bare feet I went in search of Leanne, whom I found reading a book on a sofa in the family room. She looked up at my entrance, unable to keep a straight face.

"Why ever are you dressed like that?"

"Because we're going to party Leanne. Have you any board games, like Monopoly or Cluedo?"

"We have both, whatever for?"

"Leanne, the place is like a morgue. I feel I'm the source of this morose plague so I must be the one to provide the antidote."

"And you propose board games, and then what?" I told her.

Amazement and disturbance, or possibly incredulity, were etched across her face.

"That, some music and some booze. How are we fixed?"

"We have plenty of everything. What sort of music?"

"Big band, little band, 50s crooners and 80s punk. Party belters and dismal ballads. Well maybe not too many of the latter. How about the 1812 Overture played really loud?"

"You are nuts!"

"Maybe but I need to explode and bring out the rest of the nutcases too."

"What do you mean, out?"

"I mean that for instance we play Cluedo around the pool but mix it up with a bit of Charades."

"You are plain daft!"

"But you'll help?"

"Of course. There are light switches for the pool in your utility room. You can get the CDs from the library, we also have a waterproof player in the pool shed where we keep the barbecue pans. Any other bright ideas?"

"Two more. First we all dress like me in togas so spread the word. Will Patricia come out and play? Then we start singing loud and proud karaoke style until someone comes and tells us to stop."

"As I said, you must be plain daft but we could all do with this."

Leanne pointed me in the direction of the music library where I found some recordings of The Promenade Concerts from London's Albert Hall. I took a double box set, more sets of 70s, 80s and 90s CDs that were probably Leanne's and some party music, probably the girls'. Fully loaded I went to find the light switches for the pool. Each flick of a switch lit up three little lights on an electronic map above the two banks of switches. One bank for the lights around the pool, the other for the ones in the pool itself. I switched them all on. When I went outside, the ghostly glimmer of a pool in semi-darkness was now a full measure of midnight sun above and below the waterline. Wow! That should bring someone to a window at least.