Page 77 of Beyond Her Manner
Gillian smiled. “This was all your idea, remember?”
“But you made it happen.”
“Bridget and I made it happen.”
Viola conceded with a smile and reached forward, embracing Gillian in an unexpected hug. “Good night, Gillian.”
With their bodies pressed together, it took her a few seconds to respond, but she placed a hand on Viola’s back and patted it. An urge to pull Viola tightly against her body betrayed her initial reservations.
Nevertheless, she resisted. Pulling herself back, she said, “Good night, Viola.”
She turned, relieved to be creating some distance, not only from the pull of Viola but from the reminder that KingsfordManor was her home, her heart, and she wanted it back — along with the life she held so dear.
CHAPTER 17
Viola hummed as she paced the length of her dressing room. The motion helped burn off some of the bubbling nervous energy that always surged through her before a performance, making it easier to focus once she started her breathing exercises. It was a trick her mum had suggested when she first accompanied Viola to performances.
She smoothly transitioned to lip trills, feeling the familiar vibrations loosening her vocal cords. The Proms always tested her patience; waiting for her turn to perform made the anticipation build even more. Although this was her third time attending, tonight was special. It was her debut at the Last Night of the Proms, and it was an honour few in the world received.
Sinking into the sofa, she closed her eyes and inhaled deeply, taking in the silence with every breath. Her mum would always leave the room whilst she carried out the final part of her warm-up. It was easy to think she was on the other side of the door now, waiting for the call to come back in.
Emotions were trying to rise inside her again, but she knew she couldn’t let them win. With her make-up redone once already, she didn’t think a second request would go down well.Her thoughts needed directing anywhere except to her mum’s absence and her impending performance.
Her mind drifted to Gillian and the text from her saying she had arrived and found her seat. Rehearsal timings and her appointment with Arte’s contact at the Courtauld Institute meant she had needed to be in London ahead of Gillian. She ensured her safe arrival by sending Douglas to pick her up. She hoped she was enjoying herself, even if she was alone, hundreds of feet above her.
Gillian appeared to be more content with her own company; she had likely become accustomed to it in a marriage like hers. Even though the woman surrounded herself with people by organising this event or that, Viola couldn’t help feeling Gillian sought out people as a distraction rather than for their company.
She had exuded confidence at the ball, spending time with people and moving amongst them with effortless grace. Gillian had perfected the role of hostess over the years. Her enjoyment came from other people’s enjoyment. She was a social catalyst, a connector, a facilitator, and the curator of experiences. Everything she did was to showcase her talent and ensure other people’s happiness.
Although Gillian would be the last person to admit it, she was a generous, caring person, giving her time and skills for nothing to benefit others. Butterflies fluttered inside Viola, even if she could feel her breathing exercises were doing their job. Thoughts of Gillian brought them to the surface again.
Despite the success of the ball, by the end, it looked to have beaten Gillian. Her forlorn manner before she departed had left a bittersweet taste in Viola’s mouth. A lot had changed for Gillian that year; it was bound to take a toll on her.
Was she asking too much, expecting her to organise the ball in her old house and then partly host it? She had tried to make the effort to host herself, but it didn’t come as naturally to heras it did to Gillian. It was simpler to let her take the spotlight. Pushing her aside would have only made things worse in the end. Gillian had said how difficult it was to see someone in the role she once held. Knowing her sadness came from that aspect of their friendship was a heavy weight to bear, but Gillian was intelligent enough to realise if it wasn’t Viola filling that role, it would be someone else.
Was it worse for Gillian now, being friends with that person? Would it have been easier if they hadn’t become friends? The thought made her feel a little queasy, and she exhaled slowly. She didn’t even want to be friends with Gillian; she wanted more. Her heart was screaming at her when they said good night at the ball — to reach out, to kiss her. She couldn’t do it. It was a step too far, and she wasn’t going to risk what she’d already built with Gillian.
Her phone rang, rattling against the glass table as it vibrated. When she answered the video call, Caroline’s face filled the screen, framed by a backdrop of blue sky.
Caroline lifted her sunglasses and squinted. “I was hoping to catch you before you go on to say good luck.”
“Thanks. Looks hot there.”
“It is. I could quite happily move to L.A.”
“Don’t even think about it.”
Caroline laughed. “Speaking of hot countries, I can finally tell you what I’ve been working on. I think you’re going to love it.”
Viola held her breath with trepidation about what her agent had up her sleeve.
“A two-month tour of Australia. It will take you through until Christmas.”
“Oh, great.” She forced a cheerful tone, though it felt hollow. After her last tour in Australia, she’d been eager to return, but now that it was happening, the timing couldn’t be worse. Theidea of travelling halfway across the world, away from Kingsford and Gillian, left her feeling more subdued than excited.
“I’m glad you are upbeat about it because I wanted to run the idea of rolling it into a world tour next year, after Oz.”
A knock at the door told her that time was up, without a moment to digest what Caroline said and what it meant.
