On wings of song

by Burchell, Mary

  There was a short silence, then Miss Curtis cleared her throat with an air of determining to do battle on all fronts.

  'Caroline, people don't reach the top of a competitive profession by generously considering the feelings of a rival. Even—' she put up her hand to stop the angry interruption'—even if they are devoted to that rival. You have, as you say, accepted most generous help from Sophie. You owe it to her—to all of us—to do your best to justify that help.'

  'I know! I think of it constantly,' cried Caroline distressedly. 'In fact it weighs on me so much that I sometimes think Fm beginning to lose my nerve '

  'You mustn't say that!'

  'But it's true. If I fail, the person who stands to lose a horrible lot of money is a generous near-stranger. It would be bad enough if a friend—an intimate—someone like you, for instance, had made this tremendous gesture. Somehow I could make up for it to someone I know. But from a stranger—a generous stranger who hasn't even seen me to speak to since the arrangements were first made—oh, it's unbearable!' And suddenly Caroline buried her face in her hands and gave a muffled sob or two.

  'You mustn't be hysterical, dear.' Miss Curtis touched the bent head in a troubled way.

  'I'm not being hysterical,' retorted Caroline. 'I'm just miserable—and frightened.'

  'If only—' Miss Curtis began, then she stopped and bit her lip. 'Caroline,' she said, with sudden

  resolution, *would it really help if it were someone you knew? Like me, for instance, or—or—^well, someone not a stranger? Would you feel less nervous, less anxious about your future?'

  'Yes, I've said as much.' Caroline looked up, but from her expression it was obvious that she was still contemplating no more than an academic possibility.

  'Then, although I gave my word—I'm going to break it.' Miss Curtis swallowed guiltily. *If it makes you feel better, my dear, it was not Sophie Van Kroll who supplied the money, although she had a friendly interest in you as my pupil.'

  'She—didn't?' Caroline went white and then, a dismayed look coming over her face, she cried, 'Oh, it wasn't you, was it? Oh, you couldn't—^you shouldn't—It must represent half your savings. I'd never have agreed if '

  'I didn't,' stated Miss Curtis categorically. *I just don't possess that sort of money. It was your employer who financed the whole thing. Kennedy Marshall.'

  'Ken? I don't believe it!' Caroline sprang to her feet and then began to pace up and down the room, repeating, 'I don't believe it, I don't believe it '

  'But it's true.' Miss Curtis looked rather scared at the reaction she had provoked. 'Sophie agreed to be the smokescreen, as you might say. He insisted you shouldn't know where the money came from, because if you knew you would refuse to accept it. He seemed to think you disliked him—thought poorly of him, in fact '

  'How could he? Of course I don't dislike him. Nowadays I think—well, that's not the point. We

  scrapped at times, and he said some horrid things to me about not expecting him to pay for my training, and I said—^well, that doesn't matter either, but I hate even to think of it now. The whole situation is crazy—impossible. Why have such a complicated mystery, for heaven's sake? Why wasn't he frank with me and '

  'But would you have taken the money if you'd known it came from him?' asked Miss Curtis obstinately.

  'No, of course not! How could I? All that money from a man who was just my boss, who didn't even '

  'Well, there you are. He said it was the only way to see that you got your training and your chance.'

  'He said— thatT Suddenly Caroline felt her lip quiver and she had to bite it hard in order to retain her composure. 'I never thought it— mattered to him,' she said half to herself. And then, as though whipping herself into fresh indignation with somebody^ 'Why all that nonsense about your phoning me at the office and pretending it was all Top Secret? And all the time there he was sitting opposite me. He made me take the call in front of him, in his office—I remember now! He was thoroughly enjoying himself, I suppose. It's maddening!'

  'Don't you think he was entitled to a little fun when he was paying out all that money?' Miss Curtis sounded reproachful. 'I can tell you I enjoyed it!' And suddenly her eyes sparkled mischievously as they must have done in the days when she and Sophie Lander shared a theatre dressing room and giggled over the antics of their respective beaux.

  *One doesn't like to be made a fool of/ muttered Caroline.

  'Oh, Caroline, have a little generosity! Forget your ovm dignity and be thankful for Kennedy Marshall's generosity.'

  *But that's just it!' Again she had difficulty in keeping the tremor from her voice. 'It's to him that I owe everything now. It's because of his money that I have no choice about the Carruthers Contest. I simply have to go in for it now, Jeremy or no Jeremy— and I have to win, I'll thank him at once, of course, and tell him '

  'You'll do nothing of the kind!' Never before had Caroline heard that tone from her friend and teacher. *I told you all this in confidence, because you were wallowing in self-pity and sapping your artistic and moral strength about your debt to Sophie, whom you were pleased to call a virtual stranger. I did violence to my own sense of integrity by telling you the truth, hoping to console you '

  'Console me?' Caroline gave a mirthless little laugh.

  'Yes. And I thought it was time you knew what you owed to the people who love you '

  'Kennedy Marshall doesn't love me,' Caroline said rebelliously, but she looked a little ashamed of herself. 'He was my boss and a very ruthless boss at times—why should he want to do this tremendous thing for me?'

  'Caroline,' said Miss Curtis solemnly, 'the Bible says it is more blessed to give than to receive, and there are people, fortunately, who sometimes derive great pleasure from making a generous gesture. If they know that gesture will

  be misunderstood they are satisfied to dispense with any acknowledgment, but they make the gesture just the same. Those to whom such a gift is made are only called on to accept with grace, and not to grizzle about obligations.'

  There was a long silence. Then Caroline crossed the room and kissed her teacher.

  *You're perfectly right,' she said humbly. 'I accept the position as it is and will work all the harder because of it. Then if I do win the Carruthers Contest— when I do, I mean—I shall feel free to tell him that it was my gratitude to him which enabled me to do so.'

  'Well, come, that's better,' Miss Curtis declared approvingly, and she had the tact and self-control not to add, 'And let Jeremy take his chance.'

  From that moment Caroline's whole attitude towards her studies took on a new strength. She was at last someone who knew exactly where she was going.

  Characteristically, it was Oscar Warrender who first noticed the change. And presently, although he was not a man to be lavish with his praise, he told her at the end of one lesson that she was making quite remarkable progress.

  'If you go on like this, I shall look forward to conducting for you myself one of these days,' he said, and she thought this was not entirely in joke.

  With her employer she tried to be as she had always been, but it was not easy, and she told herself with a touch of wry amusement that she was now learning to act as well as to sing. It was hard to say whether the conversation -with Miss Curtis or that unexpected kiss when he bade her

  goodnight at her own front door recurred more often to her. But together they had generated in her a sort of shy curiosity about him which was very far from the mood in which she had once called him a mean bully.

  When he was amusing and indulgent to her, as he was sometimes when they were out together, she secretly wanted to pay close attention to his reactions and to ask him why he had said this or done that. But then she would remember that he preferred to be the unknown benefactor in her life and that interested personal questions were probably not in order.

  Ironically enough, Dinah Gale was able to be much franker in her assessment of him.

  *He's really rather a darling, isn't he?' sh
e said quite unemotionally one day, when neither she nor Caroline was particularly busy.

  'Well, he's a good boss,' Caroline admitted moderately.

  'That's what I meant. I had two bosses before him and they were both horrors.'

  'Were they really?' Caroline looked interested. 'In what way?'

  'Oh, the usual way, you know. One couldn't keep his hands to himself and I had to slap his face in the end. The other was just a mean bully. You couldn't say either of those things of Mr Marshall, could you?'

  'Certainly not,' said Caroline, and then had the grace to blush; but fortunately Dinah's attention was distracted at that moment by the ring of the telephone.

  But somehow that was what made Caroline suddenly decide to make a suggestion which was

  against her better judgment, but had all at once become irresistible. Immediately, as though on cue, he sent for her to take some confidential dictation.

  The work took no more than a quarter of an hour and then, as he was about to dismiss her, she drew a deep breath and said, *You asked me if Mrs Van Kroll had ever come to hear one of my sessions with Sir Oscar, and although, as I told you, she hasn't, I—I wondered if you yourself would care to come sometime? Of course if it doesn't interest you '

  *But it does.' He looked up from his work and smiled. 'I would have suggested it myself if I hadn't thought you would reject the idea out of hand.'

  'I suppose at one time I might have done so. I'd have been nervous, you see, and have felt I might prove very unimpressive to anyone as knowledgeable as you. But Sir Oscar seems quite pleased with me these days, and if you promise not to expect too much, I think I would like to have your opinion.'

  *When is the next session?' he asked, reaching for his desk diary and beginning to flick over the pages.

  *On Thursday. But you'd have to ask Sir Oscar's permission first.'

  *Of course.' He made an entry. 'I'll be there,'

  *And—and don't expect too much, will you?' she said, her nervousness increasing now that she had taken the plunge,

  'I'll keep a perfectly open mind,' he told her. *And I take it you will want my candid opinion, whether good or bad?'

  'Yes,' said Caroline, not very truthfully, for it had suddenly occurred to her that if he betrayed disappointment or indifference it would be her obvious duty to tell him she was aware that he was the unlmown benefactor and that she could no longer accept his help for something which he felt was not worthwhile.

  'It would all be over then,' she thought desolately. 'No career, no triumph. Just a return to office life. And not with Ken either. You can't remake a failed singer into a secretary. It would just be goodbye and thanks for the chance.'

  And somehow that seemed the worst possibility of all.

  But when she returned home, nervous and depressed, she foimd Aunt Hilda in excellent spirits over a joyous letter from Jeremy.

  'I shall have to wait until I return to give you all the details,' he had written, 'But I can tell you right away that I'm having a genuine success! They are apparently delighted with both the roles I've done here, and when I said I was going to audition for some other houses, the Director said, "What for? Don't you like working with us?"

  'Of course I said I was only too happy to do so, and he talked about a contract for next season. Imagine that! They want me to continue here. Oh, the joy of being wanted instead of being regretfully rejected! Naturally, since Marshall got me the chance to audition for some other places I shall do so. It's always good to have two or three cards in one's hand. You can tell him from me, Carrie, that I'm grateful to him beyond expression.'

  So she told Ken the following day, and he

  nodded as though Jeremy's success did not surprise him. Then he suddenly gave her that flashing, wicked smile and asked if he might look forward to representing her when opera houses were competing for her services.

  'Don't make jokes like that,' she said quickly.

  *rm not superstitious, but ' she crossed her

  fingers*—I get nervous when you talk so without having heard so much as three notes from me. You don't really know yet if I'm good—or just mediocre.'

  *Warrender doesn't usually show interest in the mediocre,' was the drily humorous reply. *But we won't actually discuss the contract until after Thursday evening if that's how you feel,' and he laughed.

  'He's still not taking me seriously,' she thought, a little nettled.

  But then why all that money poured out on her proposed career? The only answer was what Miss Curtis had quoted to her: 'He said it was the only way to see you had your training and your chance.'

  He had wanted her to have her chance. The thought of that touched her again so deeply that her expression changed without her being aware of it, imtil he asked 'What's the matter?'

  'The matter?' Caroline looked up, startled. *Nothing's the matter. Why do you ask?'

  'Because you looked for a moment as though you were going to cry. Does it really worry you so much that I am coming to hear you, Caroline? If it does we'll call it off.'

  'Oh, no! No, of course not. I'd like you to hear me.' And suddenly she knew that was true, and

  vowed to herself that she would sing her very best for him.

  This resolute mood lasted right up to the moment when they walked into Oscar Warrender's studio and he said to Ken, *So you've really come to hear her at last? It was time.'

  'What do you mean by that?' Ken asked.

  'You'll see/ was the reply. 'What are you going to sing for him, Caroline?'

  Until that point she had not really decided but, on sudden impulse she said, 'I'll sing the great aria from "Adriana Lecouvreur" where she tells her admirers she's only the humble handmaid of her art.'

  'With any special thought in mind?' asked Ken in a rather odd tone.

  'No. Why?'

  'I'll tell you afterwards. Let's see what you can do with "lo son I'umile ancella".'

  So Warrender turned to the piano and began to play the introduction to that lovely aria, and Caroline forgot everything but the necessity and privilege of doing full justice to it. It was ideally suited to her voice, and the months of intensive work which she had experienced with Warrender gave to her interpretation something far beyond what might be expected of a mere student.

  At the end there was such a long silence that Caroline looked across anxiously at her employer. And then Warrender laughed softly and said, 'You can kiss her if you like. She's earned it.'

  Ken got up, came across to her and looked down at her.

  'May I?' he said, and she nodded wordlessly.

  It was not much like the way he had kissed her before. For one thing he was quite unsmiling and, for another, his lips remained on hers for a fraction longer. Then Warrender said in a satisfied sort of tone, 'She's quite something, isn't she?'

  'She's quite something,' Kennedy Marshall agreed. Then, as though he suddenly realised that the scene had become too intense, he laughed and said, 'May I be your agent and represent you. Miss Bagshot?'

  She laughed too, though a trifle shakily, and said, 'Indeed you may, Mr Marshall.'

  After that she sang several arias for him, and presently Anthea came in and asked, 'What do you think of her?'

  'That I'd better sign her on as one of my artists before anyone else discovers her. When she sang the Adriana monologue, I felt like Michonnet, poor devil.'

  'Why do you say that?' Caroline asked.

  'Michonnet is in love with the great actress, Adriana Lecouvreur, but he's just the poor old stage-manager. As he says himself, she's so far above him that he must be satisfied just to watch her, admire her—and dream. I saw the point, poor old so-and-so. Agents are perilously near stage-managers in some respects.'

  'You're perfectly absurd!' Caroline laughed outright. 'And let me reassure you that you're just not cut out by nature to take a humble back seat.'

  'Too bad,' he replied with a mock sigh. 'I thought I was playing the part so well. What are your plans for Caroline, Warrender
?'

  'Nothing specific at the moment,' was the cautious reply. 'She's set on going in for the Carruthers Contest. At least, I think that's still your intention, isn't it, Caroline? Or have you thought better of that?'

  *Oh, no, no. I must go in for it—and I must win the first prize,' she replied almost passionately. 'I can't continue to work and live on the generosity of—of my kind patron. It would be—dishonest to keep it up too long.'

  'It wouldn't be anything of the sort, provided the patron wanted to go on helping,' growled Kennedy Marshall unexpectedly.

  'I imderstand there's no difficulty there, Caroline,' said Warrender smoothly. 'It's just between you and her, surely.'

  'It's between me and my self-respect,' replied Caroline, as she had to Miss Curtis. 'I'm going in for that contest. Why are you so much against it?'

  'For one thing, it's seldom that the right person wins,' said Warrender cynically. 'And, for another, these contests are not the healthiest thing for aspiring artists—whether they win or lose. The winners inevitably see themselves as halfway to world success when they're only at the beginning, and the losers are disappointed and disillusioned out of all proportion to their relative failure.'

  'But with a panel of competent judges '

  'One forceful member of the jury can sometimes sway the others,' declared Warrender carelessly.

  'Oh, no!"

  'Oh, yes.' Then he smiled across at his wife and added, 'I'm ashamed to say I've even done it

  myself. But that's years ago—^and in a very good cause.'

  Caroline looked shocked and disbelieving, until Anthea laughed and said, *He first heard me as a raw beginner in a not very important contest. The other judges wanted me to win, but Oscar knew that a quick, cheap success, including exposure on quite the wrong scale, would spoil my whole development. He talked them out of it.'

  'Weren't you furious?' Caroline opened her eyes wide.

  *Livid,' said Anthea cheerfully. *But I forgave him later,' she added, lightly touching her husband's arm, *when he'd make a real artist of me.'