Lily has always been called Lily. She is short, with a waist as thin as a bottle, bright green eyes and an infectious laugh, so men of every age always notice her. Men tend to favor petite womentheir own Thumbelinasand want to protect, pamper and cradle them, as the saying goes, a little pony is always a colt.
Lily also has a talent: she can sing astonishingly well. Her voice is a mezzosoprano, and she sings whenever and wherever she can. She works as a laboratory assistant in a manufacturing plant in Manchester, but singing is her true element. She joins every choir she can find, gradually moves from shy appearances on stage to bolder ones. Her whole soul thirsts for art, and she lives for it.
Lily never rushes into marriage, nor does she think about children. Those possibilities never feature in her plans; she sees a husband and kids as responsibilities that would eat up the time needed for singing and enjoying life. She discusses this with her married friends, who nod sympathetically before heading off on maternity leavesome for the first, some for the second or third time.
Thus Lily devotes herself entirely to vocal artuntil the factory writes a different script. She regularly hands laboratory reports to the workshop manager, Arthur Sinclair. Every time she approaches the managers office, the secretary, Zoe, jealously guards the door. When Lily steps into the vestibule, Zoe snatches the reports, thanks Lily and says, Youre free, love. Ill pass everything to Arthur. Dont worry. Consequently Lily never meets the manager.
One day Zoe falls ill. Lily gently knocks, opens the door and sees Arthur himself at the end of the long desk. Come in, love. What do you have? he asks. Just the sample reports, Lily stammers. Are you new here? he presses further. No, Ive been here over five years, she replies. He smiles, I hadnt noticed. Shame. They chat, laugh, and Lily returns to her bench.
From then on Lily places the reports directly on Arthurs desk. Zoe, recovered, watches Lily hand over the papers, turns away, and busily waters the windowsill plants, ignoring the visitor. Lily is twentyseven.
A brief office romance blossoms. Arthur, a respectable man who shuns gossip, soon proposes a proper marriage. Lily, ever the free spirit, initially refusesshe doesnt want extra worries. Most women in her position would have chased after him, but Lily wants no strings attached.
Arthur, surprised by her reaction, gives her space to think. Meanwhile, Lilys female colleagues pester her: A man like that is courting you! Stop turning him down! Youll be old and alone! Eventually Lily yields.
The wedding is a grand affair. In a bridal gown, veil and childsize shoes, Lily looks like a delicate doll. Arthur beams with pride. Lily, however, keeps her emotions in check, preserving her energy for performances and audiences.
After a harmonious honeymoon, Lily prepares for regional tourslocal venues, holiday resorts, schools. Arthur calmly lets his young wife go, asking only, Lily, could you make something to eat and iron my shirt, please? Lily snaps, Tom, Im in a hurry! and darts off. Arthur kisses her nose, Sorry, love, Im being a pest. Go sing! He repeats this a few times, buying readymade meals and learning a rudimentary way to wash, iron, fry eggs and wash dishes, because Lily is far from a housewife.
Time passes; Lily stops working at the plant and focuses on her vocal career, touring the county. Arthur becomes accustomed to his wifes artistic life and assumes she wont mind domestic chores.
One afternoon Arthur asks his secretary for a coffee. Zoe promptly delivers a tray and, blushing, says, May I offer you some scones? I baked them myself. Arthur smiles, Thank you, Zoe. I do love the ones with cherries. Zoe then suggests, Shall I stitch a button on your jacket? Its about to come off. Arthur sighs, You see, Zoe, my wife has no time for me. Shes busy with her singing. Zoe mutters under her breath, Right, wife sings, husband howls like a wolf.
Zoes button stays sewn, the scones are devoured. She begins leaving the manager little meals: a jar of chilled soup, a thermos of broth, a hot meat patty. She bakes only cherry scones for Arthur. He gradually falls under her caring spell but never crosses the line, aware of his marital duty. He remains loyal to Lily.
Zoe, devoted, believes love will eventually win. She waits, content, never rushing events.
Arthurs attention slowly shifts toward Zoe; in his mind he compares Lily and Zoe, and Zoe often scores higher on kindness and humility, though shes not a knockout. Lily, absorbed in her lofty ambitions, doesnt notice the change. Four years into their marriage, the household still consists of just the two of them. Lily never talks about children, but suddenly she gains weight, rounds out, and asks Arthur to stock up on pickled cucumbers and stewed applesher way of hinting that a stork might soon arrive.
Arthur rejoices, dreaming of a baby. Lily, however, reacts coldly. She sees a doctor to terminate the unwanted pregnancy, but the doctor says its too late and wishes her a healthy child. Arthur remains unaware. He scours shops for the best pram and cot, checking prices in pounds.
Lily resigns herself to the unexpected diagnosis. Arthur shares his joy with Zoe, still seeing her as a friend. Zoe, hearing the news, sighs and hands in her resignation.
Arthur, bewildered, asks, Zoe, whats happening? Youre leaving? Zoe replies, Its simple, Arthur. Ive run out of cherries, no more scones. A new secretary, middleaged Margaret, steps inshes known everyone at the plant for decades and immediately scolds Arthur, Oh, Arthur! Youve lost a gem! Zoe loved you like no one else! He curtly replies, Work, Margaret. No distractions.
Months later Lily gives birth to a daughter. The midwife asks, What will you name her? Lily cuts her off, Nothing! Arthur rushes in with a bouquet, but Lily doesnt get up. She sits on the cot, sobbing. The other mothers in the ward try to console her. Why are you crying? they ask. I dont want this child! Lily declares. The women exchange glances and chatter about their own predicamentsone jokes about a lovers child, another about an absent husband, a third about a stolen market cash, each naming their imagined offspring.
Lily turns to the wall, hearing the gossip, thinking, If I listen, perhaps Ill feel the happiest of allthey have such problems while Im stuck. A nurse offers her a bouquet from her husband, but Lily refuses to touch it. The nurse shrugs and leaves the flowers on the bedside table.
The next day Arthur is sent on a work assignment he cant refuse. He returns two weeks later, sprinting home, eager to meet his daughter. He expects a tiny girl like Lily. Instead he finds Lily alone, humming over sheet music. Lily, wheres our child? he asks, bewildered. Lily, without meeting his eyes, replies, Arthur, I signed the consent to give up the baby. What? Youre mad! Thats our blood! How could you? Youre a mother! he shouts, grabs the music sheets, tears them to bits, and hurls them at Lily, Heres your music, you fool! Lily, never having seen such a husband, fears he might kill her.
Arthur, looking drained, grabs a duffel bag, tosses his things inside, slams the door and walks out, lost in the city. He shouts to strangers, Where has love gone? Someone help me! Nobody stops.
After a nights stay with a friend, Arthur returns to work and asks the new secretary, Margaret, I need Zoes phone number. She hands him a slip, smirking, We know what youre after. He locks himself in his office, aware of the secretarys curiosity.
When Lily recovers from Arthurs outburst, she does not chase after him; instead she immerses herself completely in her singing. She retreats to a holiday resort where a concert is organised for her. Free as a bird, she reconstructs the torn sheets and sings, earning applause, encores and bouquets on stage. She tours the countryside for years.
Eventually Lily abandons the concert circuit and becomes a vocal tutor. She has no formal music degree, but her experience is ample for teaching eager youngsters. One day a colleague asks, Lily, a girl has been brought to me. She seems talented. Can you audition her? Lily agrees.
A few minutes later, Arthur walks in with two girlsone about ten, the other twelve. He points the younger to a chair, Sit, little Maddy. He approaches the older, and only then recognises his former wife, Lily. Why on earth did we end up with a tutor like you? he exclaims, bewildered.
Calm down, Tom. Lets hear your daughter, Lily says, trying not to laugh. Arthur takes the younger girls hand and steps into the corridor. Lily begins the audition. The girls voice is strong, reminding Lily of herself as a childtiny, precise, with a laugh just like Lilys.
After the audition Lily asks, How old are you, sweetheart? The girl answers proudly, Im thirteen, my names Katie. Lily encourages her, You sing beautifully! Invite your father to the class. Arthur enters, Tom, you have a gifted daughter. If I dont suit you, Ill recommend another tutor. Are you married? Hows life? Lily probes, Married and happy. My wifes Zoe, my former secretary. We raise my daughter Katie and our other child, Maddy. Arthur, confused, replies, Your daughter Katie? The one I gave birth to? Lily cant believe it. Arthur says, You just gave birth to her, and rushes out, Goodbyes, tutor!
From the doorway the other teachers shout, Girls, lets go meet Mum from work! Lily sits, her mind a jumble of voicesshe just spoke to her own child.
Thirteen years have passed since Lily signed away that baby. Katie now calls another woman Mum. Lily blames only herself. At the end of a workday, she trudges home, only to be greeted by her beloved cat, Maestro, who purrs loudly, expecting a treat. Lily nudges him away, Not now! The cat darts to the kitchen, plops by his bowl, as if to say, I know youre upset, but Im hungry! She sighs, What do I have? Maestro cant console me, nor a husband or children. An empty flat and a cold bed. I guess I played the wrong notes in my life. She wishes she could turn back time, but summer only comes twice a year.
Lily reflects on the melody of her whole life, note by note. It is a sad story, built on castles in the air and a past she cant quite own. Sitting in her armchair, wrapped in a familiar blanket, she thinks of the old fable about the grasshopperDid you sing everything? Thats the point.
