Martha's Book of Song

They were standing on the edge of the veranda looking down on the star-lit port. Night had set in as they had intended. The sky was star-spangled and magnificent as ever. Schubert’s Overture to Rosamunde softly winged its notes through jasmine, camellia and orange blossom to comfort Martha with its unearthly beauty. Her tears flowed softly. Susie looked at her quizzically.

“No, darling – not yet-“Martha understood her unspoken question. Hector clutched the urn with a steely grip as though terrified he might drop it. For the first time Martha noticed that his hands were shaking.

  “I loved you – you knew that, Tito –“Martha muttered inaudibly into the fragrant, music-filled night. “Even if in these last years I was not faithful to you in the accepted sense. It was always you I thought of. It was always you I was making love with. Only you I fell in love with: that dynamic man in Santa Barbara and in London; the magic of the lover in the sea on the way to Nice. The unforgettable nights we spent in San Remo and the Ruhl Hotel and all those countless other times when you changed my life like a magician. No one ever gave me such complete satisfaction and I never admired or respected anyone as much as you.  Even if you broke my heart in a million places – it was only because I had given it to you to break!” 

For an unprepared moment Martha shuddered as Bernstein’s ‘SOMEWHERE’ broke her soliloquy and she felt the warm comfort of Tito’s broad shoulder as her young head had leaned on it wildly dreaming of the day when there would be a place for them somewhere.

“There finally was a place for us –“Martha mumbled-”a little late but not too late my darling – no not too late.” It was dark enough now for her to allow the tears to fall more freely. One more tune and Tito would merge with the place he loved. One more tune. Hector Norrington’s eyes were on Martha, fully aware of the significance of the song.