‘My — ? Oh, you mean Michele?’
‘Yes, she’s excellent. Don’t you think so, Dermot? Musical and poised and yet extraordinarily touching.’
Nicola had not really thought of Michele as extraordinarily touching. But then it is difficult to think of one’s rival in that light. She murmured something sincerely admiring about her musicality, and left the rest of the comments to Dermot Deane. In a few minutes the two men went away together and almost immediately the rehearsal was resumed.
‘So he finds her extraordinarily touching. He could hardly do otherwise. To be in love with a girl and have her singing Pamina’s heavenly music within a few yards of you must be irresistibly moving. No wonder he looks really happy at last. He’s always looked a trifle melancholy before. It’s because she is there, singing under his direction. Everything’s all right between them now, and they are making beautiful music together. What an utter joy that must be!’
And for the first time in her life Nicola wished quite passionately that she had a voice.
When the rehearsal was over she went round to her aunt’s dressing-room, where she found Torelli in radiantly good spirits.
‘Everything is perfect!’ she declared with a comprehensive gesture of her eloquent hands. ‘I sang marvellously.’ Torelli believed in neither conceit nor false modesty where self-appraisal was concerned; this was merely a statement of fact. ‘Then there’s a cable from Peter to say he will be in London on Thursday, in good time for the first performance on Friday. And finally — Julian!’
‘He was pretty good, wasn’t he?’ Nicola ventured cautiously.
‘He was superb! The most fantastic discovery. I said that boy was a singers’ conductor the very first time I heard him.’ This was not strictly correct, as Nicola well knew, but it would have been churlish to argue the point at that moment.
Instead, she smiled radiantly in her turn and said, ‘At the risk of speaking too early in his career, don’t you think one might say after all that he is a great operatic conductor?’
‘Between these four walls — ’ Torelli glanced round and added accurately but ungraciously — ‘between these four very grubby walls — yes.’
‘Nowhere else?’
‘You can go and tell him if you like.’ Torelli smiled indulgently, and patted her niece’s cheek.
‘I?’ Nicola was a good deal startled. ‘Oh, I wasn’t thinking of expressing any opinion to him. I think it would come much better from you.’
But Torelli shook her head. ‘No, darling, not from me,’ she said firmly. ‘That would be an authoritative opinion. In your case, however,’ she added, obviously without any intention of being offensive, ‘he would know it for what it was. A charming gesture of appreciation from someone whose opinion is of no special value.’
Nicola swallowed slightly.
‘I don’t think — I’ll do that.’
‘But I think you should.’ Her aunt smiled indulgently again. ‘In fact, I think it would be rather nice for him to have such an unsolicited tribute.’
‘No, no, it wouldn’t mean the least thing to him.’
‘Of course it would, darling. Don’t be silly and coy.’ Torelli did not like her opinions cast aside. ‘Everybody likes to be paid a compliment, particularly a rather naive, heartfelt one. Run along. You’ll find him in his dressing-room — the one Oscar uses.’
She turned away to her dressing-table, while Nicola stood there for a moment mutinous and undecided. And then there crept over her the delightful thought that perhaps it would please him to have her go and offer her uninhibited congratulations. Not that pleasing or displeasing him need be a matter of any great moment to her either way, of course. But —
She was already moving towards the door, and a moment later she was on her way up the flight of stairs which led to his dressing-room.
When she knocked and entered in answer to his bidding, she found him standing by the dressing-table in his shirtsleeves, and his head was bent over the business of fastening a cuff-link.
‘Yes?’ The tone was curt, almost as though he had expected her — without pleasure. Then he looked up, gave a surprised smile and exclaimed, ‘Why, Nicola! What do you want? Or rather, I suppose it’s a case of what does Madame Torelli want?’
‘No, it isn’t. I — I didn’t come from her.’ She felt she should make that clear in view of what her aunt had said about not being quoted. But immediately that seemed
to make the visit a much more personal matter than she had intended, and she hastened on so as not to give too much importance to what she had to say. ‘I just wanted you to know — I just wanted to say that I thought you were quite wonderful.’
She had not really meant to say that at all, of course. Nothing quite so naive, and certainly not in that awed and breathless tone. But the words were out before she could stop them, and he gave a slight, rather incredulous little laugh and, coming forward, took both her hands in his.
‘My dear, how very kind of you! Did you really come specially to tell me that?’
She looked down at the hands holding hers and she nodded. Though she would much rather have said something pleasantly gay and sophisticated, if only she could have thought of it.
‘Almost what one might call a friendly act,’ he remarked, and she could hear from his voice that he was a good deal amused. But there was another note too in his voice which seemed to take the edge off the amusement, and it was only with difficulty that she remembered he was the man in Michele Laraut’s life.
She pulled her hands away determinedly then and said more composedly, ‘It was the first time I’d heard you conduct a whole opera. You really do have it all, don’t you?’
‘Oh, no! I wouldn’t say that’ He laughed with genuine amusement. ‘I think I am basically a singers’ conductor, and opera is my first love because the theatre fascinates me. But I don’t know that I could claim more at the moment. What comes to me naturally I do well.’ There was the same calm, impersonal assessment of his own qualities which Torelli so often displayed. ‘But I’ve a great deal to learn yet, Nicola. I only hope I get the opportunity. Experience, experience and lots of hard work, that’s what I need. And if this “Flute” is a real success I may get my chance. Wish me luck!’
‘I wish you luck with all my heart,’ she said gravely, before she could remember about Brian.
‘Oh, thank you!’ He leaned forward and very lightly kissed her cheek.
For one moment only she was intensely aware of those very firm lips against her cheek. Then interruption came. With no more than the slightest rap on the door, Michele entered, with an air which suggested that she had every right to be there.
If she had seen that kiss she gave no sign of the fact. She merely said, ‘Are you ready, Julian? I’m ravenous after all that work.’
‘I’m ready,’ he replied coolly, and reached for his coat.
Only then did Michele bother to register Nicola’s presence with the most casual of glances and an abrupt inquiry if she had heard the rehearsal.
‘Yes. I thought it went well.’ Nicola too spoke with great coolness. Then something in the other girl’s off-brushing air stung her into the desire to assert herself. Without thinking of the eventual consequences, she smiled full at the conductor and said with almost intimate friendliness,
‘Good-bye, Julian. I’m glad I came. I’ll be wishing you luck until the first night — and after.’
Then she took herself off, aware that she had left two much astonished people behind her.
She had never spoken to Julian like that before. Never even called him by his first name, come to that. But though she was surprised and vexed at her own ill-judgment, a sort of elation possessed her as she ran down the stone stairs and along to her aunt’s dressing-room once more.
‘Well?’ Torelli gave her an amused glance as she came in. ‘Was he pleased?’
‘I think so,’ Nicola said, and smiled to herself.
‘You think so? Didn’t he say so?’
/>
‘He kissed me,’ said Nicola unexpectedly, because somehow she had to tell someone.
‘Oh, come! That’s as good a comment as any,’ declared Torelli, laughing. ‘You see? I was right to send you.’
And although Nicola still doubted the wisdom of that, she was in no mood to argue about something which had given her such pleasure. A pleasure which was none the less intense for the forbidden quality about it.
Torelli, on her side, was so happy about the impending reunion with her husband that she even took in her stride another family reunion which might not otherwise have pleased her so much. That afternoon, to Nicola’s surprise, her mother telephoned to say that she and Nicola’s father were coming to London for a few days.
‘And we look forward to seeing a great deal of you, darling,’ Mrs. Denby finished.
‘Oh, Mother!’ Nicola was divided between doubt and pleasure. ‘It’s the first night of “The Magic Flute” on Friday!’
‘Is it really, dear? Then perhaps you should get tickets for us. Who is in it?’
‘Why, Gina, of course!’ Nicola was shocked that anyone could be unaware of the fact. ‘And Julian Evett is conducting for the first time at Covent Garden. It’s going to be a terrific occasion.’
‘Well then, of course we must go!’ declared Mrs. Denby with the cheerful confidence of one who knew nothing of the facts of box office life. ‘Will you see after the tickets, dear?’
‘I will if I can. They’re like gold-dust, you know.’
‘But surely if your aunt is in it — ?’
Nicola winced slightly at this easy family way of referring to the great Torelli.
‘I’ll do my very, very best, Mother, and of course it will be simply wonderful to have you there. But I’ll be pretty busy beforehand. There’s the dress rehearsal the day after tomorrow, and then Uncle Peter is coming home. I doubt if I’ll have much free time.’
‘But there are the evenings!’ The surprised disappointment in her mother’s voice stopped Nicola from trying to explain the reasonable and unreasonable demands to which she gladly submitted before a first night.
Instead she just said that she would do everything she could to get away as often as possible. And then, as Mrs. Denby rang off, Torelli came into the room.
‘Who was that?’ she wanted to know.
In some trepidation, Nicola explained. At which the unpredictable Torelli cried, ‘How delightful! They can share the box with Peter. Quite a family occasion, and so nice for the two brothers to meet again.’
‘Yes, it will be, won’t it?’ A good deal relieved, Nicola smiled, and then diffidently broached the matter of perhaps having a little time off before the great night on Friday.
‘But of course, my dear! When did you say they were coming? Tomorrow? Then you had better go home to your flat this evening and be ready for them. I can manage without you for a day or two. Unless I telephone you, consider yourself free until the actual performance.’
‘Miss the dress rehearsal, you mean?’ cried Nicola in absolute horror.
‘Yes, yes. Dear child, you don’t suppose I can’t tackle a dress rehearsal without your presence, do you?’ exclaimed her aunt impatiently. ‘I’ve done enough of them in my time, and Lisette will be there to see to everything.’
‘But — ’ she fought desperately for that rehearsal which meant so much to her — ‘I thought, I hoped I gave you some sort of support.’
‘You do, darling.’ Torelli laughed and kissed her not unkindly. ‘But Peter will be home the next day. And your parents do come first, don’t they?’ She was enjoying her self-sacrificing role and no one was going to do her out of it. ‘Give them my affectionate greetings, and say I look forward to seeing them after the performance. After all, it isn’t a tremendously demanding role. Provided, of course,’ she added with satisfaction, ‘one has the right vocal equipment for it.’
There was absolutely nothing to add to the discussion after that. Nicola was as free as air to enjoy her parents’ visit to the full. And she was miserable and frustrated at having her chains struck off.
She knew she was being ungrateful and ridiculous. What did it matter whether she were at that dress rehearsal or not? Julian was going to be much too busy to notice her presence or absence. And, even if not, the point was a completely unimportant one. He was nothing to her. Or, more accurately, she was nothing to him.
She started to remind herself again that it was Michele who was the girl in his life, and then the expression suddenly struck her as so silly that she rejected it. What did it mean? Was he in love with Michele? He certainly seemed to take it for granted that they would share each other’s company outside the theatre. The way they had been going off to lunch together had almost the air of a foregone conclusion about it
But even that was really no business of hers. Julian was no business of hers. The part he had played in Brian’s death precluded that. She started to go over those facts again. And suddenly they seemed stale and irrelevant.
They had not changed. He was still morally responsible for Brian’s death. But she had gone over it all once too often, deliberately whipping up her anger and resentment, and now her heart was no longer in it. Deep down in another part of her consciousness she knew that what was far more important was the fact that from the first moment she met Julian Evett he had fascinated her beyond her power to resist.
Fight as she might, that fact remained. And that was why it seemed disastrous to her that she had to miss the dress rehearsal. Everything about his first great chance at Covent Garden was important to her. Not just the first night itself, but everything which led up to it. Torelli might play the self-sacrificing role with all the fervour at her command. It was really Nicola who was doing the self-sacrificing.
When she finally met her parents the next day, she was ashamed of course to think that she had ever looked on their coming with anything but joy. They were so delighted to see her, and she to see them. And both exclaimed immediately on the fact that she looked so much better than when they had last seen her.
‘Dancing attendance on a prima donna seems to suit you,’ observed her father amusedly. While her mother kissed her a second time and said,
‘You look so different, darling! I was quite worried about you last time you came to see us. You seemed so peaky and spiritless. When your father urged you to take on this job with your aunt I thought it was a mistake. Artists are so notoriously self-centred and demanding. But she must be quite different from the general run.’
Nothing, Nicola knew, could be more self-centred or demanding than Torelli at times. But if she admitted as much it would then be quite impossible to make her mother understand that there were other, fascinatingly contradictory qualities there too. In Mrs. Denby’s reckoning people were either nice or nasty, and anything as complex as the Torelli phenomenon would be outside her kind but conventional powers of assessment.
So Nicola merely laughed and said she had never had a more interesting, stimulating job — which was true — and then she hugged both her parents afresh and tried to sink all other considerations in the sheer pleasure of having them with her.
In this she succeeded very well, until it came to Wednesday, when she knew that the dress rehearsal would be in progress. Then, although she was outwardly enjoying a shopping expedition with her parents, her heart and most of her thoughts were at Covent Garden, and she longed inexpressibly to know exactly what was happening there.
Late in the afternoon, having seen her mother and father back to their hotel, she rushed home to her own flat and allowed herself the indulgence of telephoning to her aunt. But it was Lisette who replied, informing her repressively that Madame was resting now after a very tiring morning.
‘Did everything go all right, Lisette?’ Nicola inquired eagerly.
‘Madame seemed satisfied,’ replied Lisette. And with this Nicola also had to be satisfied, for Lisette replaced her receiver before any more questions could be asked.
She was still
fretting impatiently for news when her mother telephoned and said, ‘Your father thinks it would be nice to dine out somewhere special this evening. We want to celebrate having you to ourselves, dear, before we all become involved in Peter’s return and Gina’s first night. We wondered — what about the Gloria? Wasn’t that the place where Gina had that glamorous supper-party after her concert?’
‘Yes, it was!’ It was also, of course, the place where Julian had taken her to dinner that first evening, and where, so far as she knew, he was still staying. ‘It’s a wonderful idea, Mother! Tell Dad there’s nothing I’d love more.’
‘Or, alternatively, of course — ’
‘Oh, no! No alternative,’ cried Nicola. ‘Please let it be the Gloria.’
‘All right, dear. We might go to a theatre afterwards. Wear something nice and we’ll all be festive.’
‘I will,’ Nicola promised, and as soon as she had rung off, she rushed to survey her fairly modest wardrobe. She changed her mind three times. But in the end she chose the dress she had worn when she dined with Julian. And judging by the approving smile Dr. Denby gave her when she arrived, she had chosen well.
Her mother, who was reading an evening paper, looked up and said more specifically, ‘Very, very charming, dear!’ and then — ‘I thought you said Oscar Warrender was conducting on Friday.’
‘Oh, no, Mother! Julian Evett. It’s his first time at the Garden. That’s why it’s so exciting. He’s wonderful. You’ll hear for yourself.’
‘He’s a good-looking fellow, anyway. There’s a photograph of him here — ’
‘Where?’ Nicola came quickly to her side, to study the excellent photograph of Julian coming out of the stage door after rehearsal, with Michele Laraut.
‘Pretty girl with him,’ observed Mrs. Denby.
‘Yes. That’s Michele Laraut.’ Nicola’s tone was noticeably less enthusiastic. ‘She’s singing the Pamina.’
‘Are they the two who are married?’ her mother inquired.
‘No, Mother! Certainly not.’
‘Oh, no — I remember now. Of course it’s Oscar Warrender who is married to a singer, isn’t it? One gets these people mixed when they’re only names, I’m afraid.’
The Curtain Rises (Warrender Saga Book 4) Page 13