Viennese Interlude

By Turby Clarke

The love story of a young widow with Spanish gypsy blood in her veins and a destiny to fulfil. Hannah secures a post as personnel person for a charity music concert where three world famous opera singers and hundreds of chosen international musicians converge on Vienna. Here she meets her soulmate but there are many obstacles to overcome before they can be together. Happiness is a fleeting entity and Hannah has to endure heartbreak before finally finding a safe haven. .

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse UK
• Release date: Sep 25, 2007
• ISBN: 9781467011334

Turby Clarke

Joan is a retired Nurse teacher and Health Visitor and has worked in the nearby town of Grimsby in North East Lincolnshire. She is married with a grown son and two daughters all pursuing their own lives. She and her husband  spent almost twenty years living and working in the Yorkshire Dales before returning to live nearer to their family around Grimsby. Joan has written several novels but this is the first to be published. Previously she published a biography of her Aunt titled A Grimsby Lass, a copy of which is still in the local library.              Her main hobbies are writing, researching her Family History and tending the Alpine plants in their garden.

Book preview

CHAPTER ONE.

Hannah sighed as she finished reading the last advertisement in the professional vacancies and closed the Times with a dejected slam. Thoughtfully sipping her tea, she opened the newly arrived copy of Orpheus the quarterly music magazine, one of her few remaining luxuries. Idly she flicked through the pages until she reached the list of situations vacant. There, a small ad. jumped out from the rest. She stared in disbelief.

‘Wanted,’ she read, ‘mature facilitator to supervise the smooth running of a consortium of music. Based in Vienna. Knowledge of music desirable, English plus Spanish, Italian or French language essential. Short term employment, possible two months. Apply naming two referees, to Señor Miguel Cassera. C/o, Swaby Music Agency, Oxford Street, London W.1.’

Unable to believe her eyes, Hannah blinked, held her breath and read the item once more. A strange, overwhelming excitement flooded her body and a faint humming sound suffused her head. Without pausing to think, as if in a trance, Hannah reached in the desk drawer for pen and writing pad, and in a fine round hand, applied for the post. She sealed the envelope, stuck on a stamp and with the excitement still surging through her body, pulled on an anorak, pushed her feet into boots and hurried out. Splashing through the late February puddles, she walked to the post box at the corner and slipped the envelope inside with a wish. Well, I don’t suppose I stand a chance but it sounds like the answer to a prayer, she mused to herself.

Trudging back through the slush she stood at the kerb as a car turned into ‘The Close’ and stopped in front of her.

She saw Sam at the wheel and stepped round to the driver’s window to speak to him. A rugged looking chap, Sam had a shock of fair curly hair and vivid blue eyes. Hannah often thought his eyes, the most expressive she had seen, recalling how they could so clearly, reflect his emotions. Most often as now, they sparkled with mischief.

Been to post your pools? he asked cheekily through the window.

Just one more job application Sam, but I would really like this one. Hannah said and Sam replied, Why not come in for a cuppa and tell me about it?

Sorry, I left some pies in the oven, but if you come round in about an hour, you can share a casserole with me and sample some apple pie.

That’s an offer I can’t refuse. Give me time to walk Benjy and take a shower, then I’ll join you.

Hannah raised a hand in reply, then splashed further on to turn in the wide drive, fronting her cottage. Set well back from the road, the lovely old stone house looked dreary on this drab day. The rockeries at the front and stretching down the right side to the raised thyme lawn at the back were sodden after the heavy rains of winter. There were snowdrops and crocus in flower, but the raised beds gave no hint of the riot of colour that would erupt as Spring roused them from slumber.

Hannah and her husband moved up to this beautiful part of Yorkshire, when Jeremy was promoted to manage the bank in the nearby market town. They’d often spent camping and walking holidays round here with the boys, exploring the surrounding hills with their rivers and waterfalls. The best of these abounded in the secret places off the main routes, if you knew where to look.

Their twin boys James and Peter, flew the nest at the same time and were now in their first year at Sheffield University. James was studying chemistry with the intention of becoming a research chemist and Peter hoped to become a marine biologist. Sadly, Jeremy’s life was extinguished the instant the huge, loaded, quarry waggon skidded across the road and smashed into the front of their red Ford Fiesta.

Previously to this, there was a lot of talk and effort put into trying to ban the convoy of heavy lorries carrying slag through the village to the motorway. The beautiful old bridges groaned and the lovely stone houses rattled each time one passed. The narrow country lanes and curving village streets were simply not built for this kind of onslaught two or three times daily. Paradoxically, the accident was the final factor needed to win the case and the road was now closed to lorries over seventeen tons.

After the funeral, when the family returned to their own lives, Hannah was left alone. Although she was a trained nurse with a teaching qualification, she hadn’t worked at her profession since moving. In Boston where they lived before, she held a District Nursing Sister’s post. When not on duty or on call, she used any free time, to do voluntary counseling for the Samaritan Organization. It was a demanding life and a busy one and she missed it very badly.

She loved this beautiful part of the world, but although the villages being so far apart made for a strong communal spirit, unless people worked within the village, everything involved a lot of miles. Because there was no District Nursing post available, she worked as a teaching assistant in the two nearest Primary schools. Being a competent pianist and violinist with a pure soprano voice, she took over most of the musical side of school work. The regular teachers, to whom the Christmas and Easter productions were a nightmare, on top of their programmed, routine teaching, warmly welcomed this. The pay was paltry and this she supplemented by taking a few private pupils for piano and violin lessons.

Hannah’s father was the respected conductor of a famous operatic orchestra and her mother a principal soprano with the same company. Hannah grew up in a climate of music and song, but often felt excluded from the passionate unity shared by her parents. They died within six months of each other, first her adored father, who was taken ill with cancer. Hannah took compassionate leave and she and her mother gave him devoted, round the clock nursing, which allowed him to die peacefully at home. Perhaps because of this and because life without him was so unbearable for her, Hannah’s mother had a heart attack a few months after his death, from which she died three days later.

Although Hannah and Jeremy had a good marriage, it lacked the passionate intensity that enriched the relationship of her parents, perhaps because their interests varied so widely that they moved on different planes. Despite this, she missed him, feeling the loneliness and lack of companionship.

Opening the outer door of her cottage, Hannah discarded her boots and shook the raindrops from her jacket. The warm, homely smell of cooking, enveloped her as she stepped through the inside door into the bright compact kitchen. As she removed the golden pies from the oven and replaced the already cooked chicken casserole to reheat, Hannah thought about her relationship with Sam. Since that dreadful day two years ago when her life was changed in an instant, he’d been a true friend to her and his support since the funeral was constant and undemanding. He moved into a newly built unit in the nearby ‘Close’, just a few weeks after Jeremy and she took over their cottage and they chatted and met socially a few times. It was said locally that his wife died, leaving him with two young teenage daughters to care for. Paula, the eldest was now married and living in Plymouth, Patricia two years younger was presently backpacking around New Zealand between graduating from teaching college and looking for employment.

Sam worked as a surveyor for the Rural District Council, at their headquarters twenty miles distant. He enjoyed outdoor life in the Dales, sometimes persuading Hannah to accompany him and his dog on a walk. The latter was a rough haired mongrel terrier by the name of Benjy. Depending on her school commitments, Hannah took him for a walk and brought him home with her until Sam collected him after work. Sam told Hannah he would be home early today so she didn’t call for Benjy, but busied herself preparing food after leaving school at lunch time.

It was during one of Sam’s visits that she learned of the similarity of their circumstances. His wife Diana was also killed instantly when the car in which she was a passenger, skidded on black ice. The driver of the car, a woman friend of Diana’s, received injuries from which she later died. They were going out to enjoy a shopping day when the accident happened and the police traced Sam to the construction site where he was currently working, to give him the news.

Since moving here, his easy manner and friendliness had made him popular and several lonely ladies tried to tempt him into romance. He was either unaware, or impervious to their invitations, treating them all with the same friendly courtesy. His eyes saw only Hannah. Although Hannah’s counseling skills were part of her life, she discovered that knowing the stages of bereavement was vastly different to living through them. Sam knew how she felt and encouraged her to talk about her feelings. He was also a very practical man and took on all the small maintenance tasks that arise in house, car and garden. His voice was a pleasing baritone and they both belonged to the Amateur Operatic Society, where Hannah played the lead the previous year in ‘The Merry Widow’. The Society involved a large social group, attracting members from all the surrounding villages.

Hannah knew she was very fond of Sam and they shared a lot of common interests. Aware also that he would like to move their neighbourliness to a closer relationship, Hannah gave him no encouragement in this direction. She knew his worth and supposed they could have a sensible and perhaps satisfying union, with or without marriage. Despite this, there was within her, a persistent feeling that life had something else for her to do and it wasn’t yet time for her to pick up her knitting and head for the rocking chair. Somewhere there was an unknown destiny waiting to be fulfilled, a spirit that was clamouring to find hers.

She was by no means clairvoyant but occasionally experienced strong premonitions and quite often knew with certainty the path she should follow. Her cousin Beth described her as fey. There was, however, no inner warning of Jeremy’s death and the tragedy struck like a thunderbolt. There was this burst of feeling when she saw the advertisement this afternoon and she’d learned through the years, it wasn’t to be ignored. If she hadn’t acted today, this insistent feeling would have stopped her sleeping until she eventually wrote the letter. Although she thought it too good to be true, Hannah felt an inner certainty that she would be spending some weeks in Vienna.

CHAPTER TWO.

Hannah’s Grandmother was a red-haired Spanish gypsy dancer whose daughter Francesca, Hannah’s mother, had been a very beautiful, talented and vibrant woman. They both bequeathed their zest for life, with a softer kind of beauty, to Hannah. She inherited too, her mother’s glorious, gleaming, chestnut brown hair colour and her father’s strong curls. Now, she freshened her face and attempted to brush these curls into submission on her shoulders. Through the mirror, she studied the oval face with huge, luminous, hazel eyes. With the dark fly-a-way eyebrows and the thick curling fringe of dark lashes, she saw high cheek bones and a small pointed nose. It was lucky her mother passed on her peaches and cream complexion and trouble free skin, she thought whimsically, considering it to be her only claim to beauty. The lips curved into a smile showing even white teeth and lighting up her face. She thought If my mother had passed on her wonderful voice and looks, I should have no problem finding a job.

Quickly slipping ski-pants and sweater onto her slender, five feet three frame, a reappraisal of her appearance decided her to put up her hair. She didn’t wish to look alluring, or to give Sam any reason to suppose she was setting the scene for fanciful notions. Although restyling her hair gave Hannah an added maturity, the image now before her was that of a very attractive, still young woman looking much younger than her thirty-nine years. The hair, now piled on top of her head, showed a fringe of springy curls around her hairline at the back, giving the slender neck a touching vulnerability.

Awakened from her reverie by a scuffling in the porch, she recognized the sound as Benjy having his paws dried, and slipping her feet into mules she moved to greet them at the door. Benjy danced around her feet with excited yelps, as if he hadn’t seen her for a week, while Sam unfolded himself to look down at her from his six-foot height.

He remarked, I could smell that delicious cooking as I turned in the drive. Benjy smelled it too. I was pulled up the path, he couldn’t get here fast enough. This is just a display of cupboard love you know. Behave yourself Benjy and mind your manners.

The little dog did a circuit of the kitchen, his nose working overtime as it lifted to the oven. After drinking from his bowl behind the door, he trotted with the confidence of familiarity into the cosy sitting room, flopped on the rug before the fire and began the routine of washing fur and paws.

I brought us the last of the Christmas sherry. said Sam taking two glasses from the cupboard and filling them to the brim.

Now tell me about this job, and here’s to your getting it.

He followed Hannah through into the sitting room and raised his glass to her. Fortunately for Benjy and perhaps because of his mixed parentage, nobody had deemed it necessary to dock his tail and it thumped enthusiastically on the rug as he eyed his two favourite people, before settling down with a patient sigh to await the cause of the good smells to appear.

Hannah passed the Orpheus magazine to Sam and he read the ad. twice with dread, before trusting himself to comment that it sounded just up her street.

Who have you given as referees? he asked, you know without my telling you that I’ll give you one, for what its worth. I didn’t realize the job was abroad Hannah.

Ignoring the last comment Hannah replied, Sam, I know you will and thank you. It may be a good idea to use a neighbour. I thought I’d give Dad’s friend, Uncle Phil for the other, perhaps his long association with the music world will add some weight. If you’ll excuse me for a minute I’ll ring him now, he might be out later.

‘Uncle’ Philip Taylor was a well known cellist, composer and arranger of music, who worked with Hannah’s father many times. Passing Sam the daily paper to read, Hannah returned to the kitchen to make her call. Sam glanced at the headlines without really seeing them, then bent to pat Benjy’s head as he murmured, What shall we do if our friend leaves us, it’s not at all what we had in mind, is it old chap? the wispy tail thumped again in agreement, as the intelligent brown eyes gazed adoringly into his master’s face. Sam continued to stare morosely into space as he dwelled on his thoughts.

Uncle Phil was just going out, said Hannah returning from the kitchen, but he’ll write it tonight and put it in the post in the morning. He thinks he knows what it’s all about but didn’t have time to tell me about it now.

Sam looked up at this woman who brought sunshine back into his life. He hadn’t thought anyone, would ever again be able to arouse the feelings in him, that he now experienced as he watched her. Speaking to Uncle Phil as she called him, had brought a pink flush to her cheeks and a sparkle to her eyes.

You really want this job don’t you? he asked in a carefully controlled voice.

Yes Sam I do and I can’t explain how, but somehow I know that it’s there for me. Almost as if fate destined me to wait until the right thing came along and directed me towards it.

Sam pulled her down beside him on the settee and gave her hands a little shake saying, Oh, my dear, don’t get too excited about this, you know what the employment situation’s like at the moment and how many jobs you’ve applied for. There may be hundreds of people put in for this and I should hate you to be disappointed. Hannah looked at him thoughtfully, the gold flecks in her eyes making his pulses quicken.

Don’t worry Sam, I just have this feeling, and I shall be no worse off if the job doesn’t materialize. You’re forgetting though, that my mother came from Spanish Gypsy stock and her blood runs in my veins. Hannah smiled impishly at him, well aware of the difference her absence would make to the lives of Sam and Benjy.

Determined to keep the mood light, she jumped up to select Haydn’s Surprise Symphony from the pile of C.D’s and place it in the player.

You must be starving and everything’s ready. Shall we eat in the diner? she asked, moving towards the door. What do you say Benjy? Can we find something for a dog? The little dog jumped up and ran to the door, looking up at her expectantly. Without pausing for an answer, Hannah passed into the kitchen and began lifting the food from the oven to the table, already laid for two.

Benjy demolished his share in record time, then chased his dish around the tiled floor until he had it cornered. The last smell of food was savoured and the floor hopefully cleaned with a busy pink tongue. After the slight tension, Hannah and Sam enjoyed their meal with an easy comradeship. During the past two years, they shared a meal two or three times a week. It made sense and was as easy to cook for two as one; it helped Hannah too, through the worst months of loneliness. Although her school work was, for the most part, in the mornings, there were occasional afternoons, but even then she was home by four o clock. Often when Sam called for his dog, there was a hot-pot for his tea, a pie, or something tasty to take home.

Sam also enjoyed cooking and frequently returned this hospitality at weekends, or sometimes they went across to the pub at the corner for a bar meal. People became used to seeing them together and this gave to them both, a measure of protection from unwanted attention. Quite a few of the local chaps on the lookout for female companionship, either legitimate or on the side, approached Hannah in past months. She accepted all this as just another sign that her life wasn’t yet over and laughingly declined any invitation unless it was with a mixed group.

After finishing their meal with delicious apple pie and custard, they washed up the few dishes and exchanged tit-bits about their days work. The discussion continued as they carried their coffee through to where Benjy, now replete, again occupied his spot in front of the fire. His tail thumped at their approach but he was enjoying his comfort too much to exert himself. Sam and Hannah watched the television news, then played a game of scrabble until at Benjy’s demand to be let out, Sam jumped up, stretched his long body and prepared to leave.

Right then, us lads will bid you goodnight and be on our way. Ready boy? This to the bouncing Benjy anticipating a walk. Thanks for a lovely meal and company Hannah, he gave her a quick hug, I dread to think what we’ll do if you leave us.

You’ll just have to go back to beans on toast. replied Hannah lightly, returning his hug. Sleet was beating down with stinging fury as Sam opened the outside door. It’s not fit to turn a dog out, he grumbled and look what you’re doing to us. You’re a hard woman, Hannah Cox. Goodnight then, see you tomorrow, I may be late so will pick up a take-away for us, on my way home. About six-o-clock then? Goodnight Hannah.

Hannah closed the door after them thoughtfully and returned to the sitting room. She was very conscious that the slightest move on her part would have precipitated an affectionate response from Sam. He was too fine a man to play about with and it was a shame to waste his time when she couldn’t give him what he wanted. Perhaps it would be a good thing in more ways than one, when she went away. It would give him a chance to get to know some other woman and maybe marry again. Hannah noted with a wry grin, that she’d thought when and not if, she went away.

CHAPTER THREE.

Five days later, when Hannah picked up the post from the box at the roadside, there was her stamped, self-addressed envelope with a London postmark. She ran up the drive dragging an unwilling Benjy by the lead, hurriedly fitted the key in the door and burst into the house. The brief letter stated simply, "Although we have not yet received your references, Señor Cassera is in receipt of your