Twelve Days of Quartet

Day 11

https://open.spotify.com/track/5pHUheq9NgQV2qfTnkM7E9?si=FGN1fTioRHmosDmwKZlUKA

It wasn't long until Christmas now and Ophelia was excited. She loved the decorations and the music and most of all, she loved the food. Most of all she loved that her mother had time for her. She would always take the week before Christmas off and they would do things together. They always saw the Nutcracker at the Royal Ballet, they went to a carol concert and they went shopping for gifts. Just the two of them. It had always been just the two of them, and sometimes aunty Cissy. But mostly Ophelia and her mum. Pheli loved her mother and she knew that their time before Christmas wasn't something she should take for granted. Her mum was a star, so she was very busy and taking such a long time off for her was a great sacrifice. And yet Ophelia wondered if she was missing something. Or rather, someone. There had never been a father in her life. Or a father figure. It wasn't that Ophelia didn't appreciate everything her mum did for her, but sometimes she wondered if there was someone missing in her little puzzle. That one piece that would make the picture complete. She knew for sure that her mother was lonely, Pheli was very observant. So she decided to take matters into her own hands. She just didn't know how. She knew that she wanted her father to come back, not just some random new man. How could she be sure? A few days later, she had her answer.

Jean was decorating the tree in their music room, the one with the two pianos, and Ophelia was watching her.
"Mum, why do we only ever use the left piano? Is the right one not good?" Jean sighed.
"It's because the right one is locked, darling."
"So why don't we unlock it? One day we could play a duet." Both pianos were beautiful. Concert pianos, black like the night sky, with golden pedals that gleamed. Cecily admired them, but she couldn't even play on her own yet. She was small for her age, "petite" as her mother called it, she always had such nice words for things, but that didn't change the fact that Cecily couldn't comfortably reach the pedals and play just yet. So instead she would sit on her mother's lap, Jean would do the pedals and Cecily would play. Yes, she loved the piano and having a locked one in their piano room, one that had been silent for as long as she could remember, intrigued her.
Jean sighed. She wasn't prepared for this question. She hadn't expected it, not so soon. Nevertheless, she wouldn't lie. Not to her daughter.
"It's your dad's piano, my darling. He has the key, only he can open it."
"So I have a dad?" Ophelia asked. "Who is he? What's his name, what is he like?" The tree suddenly lost all its appeal, Pheli had more important questions to ask.
"His name is Reginald. But I'm sure he'd prefer if you called him Dad. He's a singer, just like me and... He's just wonderful. I love... Loved him very much." She still did, in secret, but her turmoil wasn't any of her daughter's concern.
"So why isn't he here?" Ophelia noticed that her mum sounded very sad and tired.
"I wasn't kind to him." Understatement of the century, but how else should she explain what she did to her five year old daughter.
"And now he's never coming back?"
"I don't know, darling. I... I never had the opportunity to tell him about you. He would come back if he knew you, but probably not for me. I had my chance and blew it. Big time. But anyway, should we finish the tree?"
"Sure." Pheli said but she only went through the motions, she pretended to have fun, her mind however was occupied with hatching a plan. She would bring back her dad and this would be her Christmas present. She was bright, her teacher always praised her for already knowing her letters and she would put those skills to good use.

A few days later when she was at her aunty Cissy's house, she decided to put her plan into action. She needed a grown up to help, but she couldn't really ask her mother, right?
"But why exactly do you need me to call the newspaper?" Cissy was slightly bemused, her goddaughter was a peculiar child.
"Because I need you to take out an ad. And it has to be in that opera magazine, not the newspaper." She wasn't sure if her father got the magazine too, but they did at home and she assumed everyone in the business did.
"Opera Weekly? You know ads cost money? And what do you want in that as?" Ophelia rolled her eyes just like her mother always did.
"I wrote it down with all the letters I already know. You might have to ask for clarification but I'm here to help." That was something her teacher always said and it sounded very grown up. The kind of thing said by a personcapableof taking out ads. "Also I brought my piggy bank, so I can pay for the ad. Please, aunty Cissy, it's very important. I want my Daddy back for Christmas and I think so does Mum. Pleeeaaase?" Cissy chuckled.
"You know I can't say no to you. Keep your money, love, didn't you want to buy a dress with it?"
"Yes, but..."
"I'll take care of it. Just help me with the text."
"I will. Thank you, aunty Cissy, I love you." She hugged her godmother and together they called the magazine. Cissy dictated what Ophelia had written down:
"Is your name Reginald? And do you have the key for our right piano? If both answers are yes, please come to our house on Christmas Eve. You should know where it is. Merry Christmas, J & O. Xxx"
Cissy hung up and looked at Ophelia.
"Your mum can't know I helped you with this." Jean would be furious.
"Okay. Aunty Cissy, what did she do so Dad left? She said she was unkind but I don't think that's the truth." Cissy turned red. This really wasn't something a child should know.
"You know, I think I forgot. Anyway, should we go buy that dress with the money from your piggy bank?" A quick distraction, and a good one, so Cissy called a taxi and they drove to Harrod's, where Ophelia chose a pretty dress for Christmas. Cissy paid for that one too, she loved spoiling Pheli.

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On Christmas Eve, Ophelia was excited. So incredibly excited. But nothing happened. Nobody came. At nine, Jean finally managed to get her to bed, she was confused by her daughter's over the top excitement, but she put it down to Ophelia finally understanding what Christmas was about. She had just filled Phelis stockings and settled down with a mug of tea, when there was a knock on the door. At this time? On Christmas Eve? Maybe an emergency? She went to open and almost fainted when she saw who was outside. It was Reg. Reginald. Reggie.

She wanted to say something but her head was empty. She just stared at him. Reg seemed to feel the same, he was holding a page from a magazine. After what felt like forever, Jean stepped aside.
"Come in, it's cold outside." She said quietly, her voice didn't sound like it was hers anymore and Reg followed, closing the door. There was so much between them, even though they were both standing very close to each other in Jean's dark, narrow hallway. He was so close, yet far away, still so handsome, tall, smelling just like he always did. He was just like he always was, it was comforting to Jean that some things never changed and before she could stop herself, she hugged him.
"Oh Reggie. I... I don't know why you're here. But I'm so glad that you are. I..." He hugged her back and so they stood there, Reg was crying silently and Jean had her face buried in his shoulder.
"Why are you here?" She whispered.
"The ad." He said quietly. "Who is O?" He gave her the page from Opera Weekly.
"What... Oh... I guess I have a lot to tell you. You might have to stay the night, Miss O. is already in bed." That child! So this was why she'd been so excited. How on earth had she..? Well she would find out the next day, now there were more pressing questions.Reg seemed perplexed.
"She's your daughter? I didn't know..." He looked around, as if he was looking for O's father.
"Well, I keep Ophelia out of the public eye and please don't be mad or make a scene or leave but... Strictly, she's our daughter. Yours. If you know what..." Reg turned pale. He understood exactly what she meant.
"I... I think I need to sit down." Jean lead him to her kitchen and made him a cup of tea. She didn't blame him, in fact he was taking it all very well.
"Reggie. I know that we can't undo things but for Ophelia's sake, stay the night. Open the piano..." She looked away. She couldn't make Reg stay for her, he wouldn't want her anymore, would he?
"Jean... I... I wish we could undo things. Because... I still have feelings for you. First I didn't want to come because I thought I'd get hurt, that's why I'm so late. But missing you hurts even more. If you... If you want me too, I'll stay for both of you." Reg stared into his cup. A long shot, after all those years and a divorce.
"Reggie, do you mean it? Please say you mean it. Say it's not a dream. Because I've been hoping and praying for a second chance and this seems too good to be true." Her voice was trembling.
"I mean it. I want you back. And not just because of our girl. Because of you." He kissed her hand and Jean tried really hard to hold back tears when a little voice came from the kitchen door.
"Dad? Did you bring the key?" Pheli had woken up from the voices downstairs, but she was sleepy, almost sleepwalking, in that curiousstate betweenwaking and dreaming only children know.
Reg turned around. Wow. She was perfect. He couldn't tell whether she more resembled Jean or him, he saw both of them in her. His daughter, there was no question.
"Hi there, little one. So you're O?"
"Ophelia." She yawned. "Piano key?"
"Yes. Daddy brought the key and we'll open the piano tomorrow. But it's late, you must be tired." He was a natural with children.
"Hmmm." Jean watched them and it felt like her heart was about to burst. This was almost too good to be true.
"Excuse us." She whispered to Reg and picked Ophelia up. But Reg followed them upstairs. Pheli was asleep by the time they arrived in her room and Jean tucked her in.
"You did a wonderful job raising her."
"I tried. I... I have so much to tell you and explain and I totally understand if you change your mind about me afterwards..."
"Shhhh. First we'll celebrate Christmas and I must say, a family of my own is a pretty solid gift. The best you ever gave me." Jean just hugged him, she never wanted to let him go. He was all she'd ever wanted.