The Queen of the Tambourine by Jane Gardam

Author:Jane Gardam
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Europa

May 14th

Two weeks, m.d.J., since that evening.

I have spent much of them at the window. Nearly June. What a summer coming this year. The lilacs and the syringas and the roses already some of them full out, the grass long and silky and full of daisies—I don’t know where the gardener went but it’s all the better without him.

But I haven’t been looking only at the Month of May, Joan, I have been watching for the family of Fishes. Every car that zips by, I wonder whether it is taking Amanda to the high school after dropping off the baby at the minder’s. Every black and red cap I see on any boy, I think must certainly be Lucien’s. Every pram has Timmy in it, every pram-pusher is the Fishes’ au pair. I have conversations with them all. I ask them all to tea. I bake a cake and get ready to walk round with it. I stop myself. I won’t go back to that. The cake-making of the Church of England woman, the running between each other with pots of jam. I’ve tried it. It has failed.

But I went to Church again on Sunday, hoping to see at least one of them. I was trembling as I went in, like an old virgin in love with the priest. I fell to my knees and tried to pray but could not get away from the shouts and conversation going on at the clergy house. “Come on, Amanda, we’re late.” “Well you don’t have to go. You don’t believe in it.” “We have to—for Dad’s sake.” “What about Ma’s sake?” “What’s Ma doing?” “Feeding Timmy and reading an essay.” “Who’s doing lunch?”

On and on it went, the life of the Fishes in my head. Not one of them turned up at Church, not even Nick—it was an unknown priest with an ambling grin who kept getting lost in the service and gave a sermon about the place of the United Nations in the future of Europe, which seemed a pretty small one. Instead of listening I thought about Lucien and Amanda, sitting beside me in the pew, and Timmy beatifically good in my arms, stroking my face.

So yesterday, when it had been very bad all day and it had come to evening and grown quite dark, I left the dogs and with a secret smile and a dark coat set out walking to the Common and towards the clergy-house. It was quiet along the almost empty road and I slid in through the wide gates, one off its hinges, kept to the rhododendrons along the scruffy drive, made a quick dash past the glass front door and stood concealed behind the ceanothus outside the living-room window where shone the only light in the house. I stood very still, back from the window, flat to the wall.

Discovered, and where should I be?

Soon I leaned sideways, turned my head and looked in to see Nick writing at the table among the chaos and Timmy asleep and very large upon his knee.

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