“I can’t answer for him.” Karl-Heinz sat down on the side of the bed and deliberately looked away from the towel and its dark patch between Lydia’s thighs. Instead he looked into her face, earnest now instead of stern. “But I can tell you how I feel. I’m in love with you, Lydia. You are a rare and special thing—you are unspoilt. You aren’t Milan’s type, and I think that’s why he loves you too.”
“What’s his type, then?”
“Oh, you know. Glamorous, chic, worldly, high-maintenance. You are nothing of the kind. Sometimes we find love in the most unexpected places.”
Lydia considered this.
“Have you ever loved two people at the same time? I know Milan has.”
Karl-Heinz smiled sadly.
“I have, but I’m afraid I was not as honest as you. I kept my lovers secret from each other. To have confessed would have meant disaster.”
“Really? Oh, Karl-Heinz. You have to tell me.”
He looked away for a long time, shadows playing on his face as he struggled with a decision.
“Okay,” he whispered. “You will understand, I know. You love Milan, after all, and you have shared a lover in the past.”
“Tell me.” Lydia’s heart thundered. What dark secret lay behind this tightly-buttoned man’s façade?
“It was when I was in the Navy, doing my national service. I had a girlfriend at home, Petra. A fellow musician—she is in the Berlin Phil now.”
“Wow.”
Von Ritter smiled weakly. “Yes, she was very talented.”
“And you cheated on her while you were in the Navy. You had a girl in another port?”
There was a pause.
“No,” he said. “There was a boy, on board ship.”
Lydia inhaled sharply.
“Oh my God, Karl-Heinz, I had no idea! No idea at all. You’re bisexual.”
“I suppose I am, yes.” Karl-Heinz smiled tightly, but his eyes were troubled.
“Did you know? Or did it come as a shock to you?”
“Well, this is crazy, but as a boy I was really quite homophobic. I realise now that my stupid prejudice was sublimated fear about my own sexuality. It took meeting Hans and falling for him to understand myself.”
“Gosh. What a turbulent time for you.”
“Yes. It was. And, of course, there was the interest in S&M too. I was rather ashamed and horrified by myself, I have to say.”
“That’s so sad.” Lydia took his hand and massaged his knuckles tenderly.
“For a boy of eighteen, it was all very confusing.”
“Did they find out about each other?”
“No. Petra thought I was straight. Hans thought I was gay. I kept the truth to myself.”
“So…what happened in the end? You broke up with both of them?”
“Petra met someone else at music school in Berlin. She broke up with me. I finished my National Service and went to study in Munich. Hans wanted to come with me, but I wasn’t ready to live in an openly gay relationship. I was too scared and my family would not have accepted it. It was just too hard. I told him we had no future.”
“Poor Hans. Was he heartbroken?”
To her horror, Karl-Heinz’s eyes filled with tears. He nodded, unable to speak.
“Oh, darling.” She knelt up and put her arms around him.
He rested his head on her shoulder, tears splashing onto her skin.
“I got a letter from his family,” gasped Karl-Heinz, holding her tighter than ever. “A few weeks later. He had been found in the harbour at Kiel. Drowned.”
“Oh God, no. Was it…?”
“The inquest ruled accidental death. He was very drunk.”
“That’s so…”
Flashbacks of Evgeny’s body, bloated with water on the banks of the Vltava while emergency services crowded around him, assailed Lydia’s consciousness.
“That’s so strange,” she whispered. “So strange and so horrible.”
“And ever since then,” sobbed Karl-Heinz. “I can’t… I just can’t…”
“I know. I know, love. Don’t cry. It’s all right. I’m here for you.”
They rocked together, weeping in each other’s arms, until both lay down, exhausted but full of love and compassion for each other’s suffering, to await sleep.
Chapter Seven
Vanessa had tried to tell Ben, honestly, she had.
She’d almost brought the subject of her ex up umpteen times over the course of the weekend, but somehow it had always seemed a shame to spoil the moment.
There was kissing to be done, or ice cream to be eaten, or movies to be watched. Then it was bedtime.
And really, why should Dafydd ap fucking Hughes ruin her sex life?
“Bit of Beethoven today,” said Ben brightly, loping up the street to the rehearsal hall. “Love it. Ludwig Van the Man.”
“Yeah, great.”
Vanessa tried not to sound preoccupied, but obviously her efforts weren’t stellar, because Ben stopped abruptly and raised his eyebrows.
“Don’t you like him? The Egmont Overture’s terrific, I think.” He conducted the opening bars with an imaginary baton, waving his hands towards the passing traffic. “Not a lot for us to do on percussion, but you get a bit of kettledrumming in.”
“I love Beethoven. It’s just…oh. Look. It’s the new leader.”
Dafydd ap Hughes had just emerged from a taxi and the couple watched him trot self-importantly up the steps, toting his violin case like a weapon.
“The Welsh guy? Ap Hughes. Ap! There’s an ap for that.”
Ben laughed at his lame joke, then grimaced an apology.
“Sorry. That was shit. You don’t like him, do you?”
She took a deep breath. “You need to hear this from me rather than from orchestra gossip. He’s my ex-husband.”
“What?”
Ben looked momentarily dumbfounded.
“Him?” he eventually struggled to say. “That big beast of a bloke? He doesn’t seem quite your type, my love.”
“He’s not. That’s why we’re not together anymore,” said Vanessa tightly. They had reached the steps and private conversation would soon be out of the question as various musicians waved and offered greetings.
“Bloody hell,” muttered Ben, trudging up after Vanessa. “You never said it was him. Evil Ex never had a proper name. You could have said something before.”
“I’m sorry. I just…I wish he’d just go away. I suppose I hoped he’d bugger off before the subject had to come up. But it doesn’t look like he’s buggering anywhere, does it?”
“He can keep his buggering away from you,” said Ben. “I can’t believe you didn’t tell me.”
But there was no space for further discussion. Kim, the oboist, was on her way over, eyes alight with greed for gossip.
“What about Dafydd coming back?” she said excitedly. “Are you really pissed off?”
“Yes,” said Vanessa shortly. “But I’m not going to let it get to me. We’re an orchestra. Harmony’s the watchword, right?”
She brushed Kim aside and strode on into the hall, determined to be professional at all costs.
Although von Ritter looked slightly less impeccable than usual, his eyes shadowed by dark rings and his shirt a little rumpled, he was able to keep a firm eye on Dafydd and there was nothing in the way of provocation during the rehearsal. Everybody kept their heads well down in their musical scores and worked hard to achieve perfect performances of the Egmont and Coriolan overtures.
Their mid-morning break was well earned and Vanessa sat back on her chair, eyes closed, waiting for Ben to come back from the vending machine with coffees. He took his time, though. Must be a queue.
In fact, there was no queue. Ben had headed for the corner where the machines stood and was fumbling with his coins when a voice spoke behind him.
“Ben. Isn’t it?”
He turned around to see Dafydd ap Hughes looming behind him, a great barrel of a man, his broad
face beaming with a smile that looked affable enough. On the surface.
“That’s right,” said Ben carefully, not returning the smile.
“Well, Ben. Good to meet you.”
He held out his hand. Ben shook it.
“Thanks,” he said.
“Where did you study? Royal Academy? RCM?”
“Guildhall,” said Ben.
“Ah, right. Ness and I were RCM. And…when did you leave? Yesterday?” Ap Hughes laughed hugely.
“2007, actually,” said Ben, his tone frosty.
“2007? As long ago as that? You look about twelve.”
Ben touched his cheek. “It’s my moisturiser. I recommend it.”
“Do you, now, boy? Well, let me give you a tip in return.” Dafydd leant forward confidentially. Despite his being several inches shorter than Ben, he didn’t seem to be at any physical disadvantage whatsoever. “Stay away from my wife.”
“Ex-wife, don’t you mean?”
“No. No, I don’t mean that. We never got divorced.”
“What?”
Ben dropped his money on the floor.
“You heard me. She didn’t want the hassle or expense. We’re still married, boy. You and she are committing adultery. So hands off. Got it?”
Ben, scrabbling on the floor for his coins, looked up through a fall of floppy hair.
“Fuck you,” he said. “Vanessa can see whoever she wants.”
“No,” said Dafydd, bending low. “She can see whoever I want. I’m going to get her back, boy. Just watch me.”
As ap Hughes turned and strutted away, Ben threw a two pence coin after him, frustrated by a nagging feeling that he hadn’t won the exchange.
Back in the rehearsal room, he sat down next to Vanessa and handed her her coffee.
“Your Mr ap Hughes really is a cunt, isn’t he?” he said conversationally.
Vanessa, who had been wondering where on earth her lover had been, snorted coffee all over her lap.
“What did he say to you?”
“Nothing very coherent. Basically just the sound of knuckles dragging on the floor.”
“Ben. What did he say?”
“Is it true that you’re still technically married?”
There was an uncomfortable silence.
“I couldn’t face having to communicate with him,” said Vanessa at last. “Even through a lawyer. I just wanted to forget it, put it all behind me. And I had no plans to marry again, so…”
“Ness, for God’s sake. He’s still your husband.”
“Not in any meaningful sense, Ben. Words on paper, that’s all. All these years I’ve been waiting for him to meet someone and ask for a divorce, but…”
“That’s never happened.”
She shook her head and put down the coffee.
“He says he wants you back.”
“What?” Vanessa exploded.
“Yeah,” said Ben with an uneasy laugh.
“He’s deluded.”
“Is he?”
“For fuck’s sake, Ben, you can’t think I’d ever even look at him again. After the way he treated me…”
“How did he treat you? You’ve never told me anything.”
“He was a bastard. An abusive, controlling bastard. I’d rather cut off my kettledrumming hands than go back to him.”
“Okay. That’s good. Just wanted to be clear, you know, seeing as I’ve been in the dark all this time.”
“Love, I’m sorry, it’s just hard for me to talk about, you know?”
“Pretty hard to hear about too, but better than having everything come as a shock.”
“I know, I know. Are you pissed off with me?” Vanessa shot a coy look at Ben, who certainly looked as grim as he ever did.
“No,” he sighed. “Not with you. With this stupid situation. I can’t believe I’ve got a jealous husband on my back. I can’t believe I’ve cuckolded someone! Hey. That’s a thought. I’ve cuckolded your Dafydd Twat Hughes. That feels pretty good, actually.”
Vanessa couldn’t help a little laugh.
“You lunatic,” she said. “Cuckold away. He can’t scare me anymore. You’re the only man I’m letting into my life.”
Dafydd skirted the orchestra on his way back to his desk, giving them both a long and intense look, which they pointedly ignored.
“Don’t go near him,” said Vanessa under her breath. “Don’t have anything to do with him.”
But this proved easier said than done.
Dafydd, after a whispered word to von Ritter, ascended the conductor’s podium and called for hush.
“I just wanted to say a few words about how happy I am to be back,” he said, once he had everyone’s attention. “Don’t worry—I’m not going to make a long speech. But I am going to invite everyone to a party tonight. I’ve hired the Portico Rooms at Somerset House from seven till nine. Just a few drinks and nibbles and a chance to get to know those of you I didn’t have the luck to work with first time around. I’ll see you all there tonight.”
“Don’t count on it,” muttered Vanessa.
Dafydd stepped down and the rehearsal resumed.
* * * *
“Are you going to Somerset House?” asked Lydia, catching up with Vanessa at the end.
“What do you think?”
“I don’t blame you. I don’t really want to go, but Karl-Heinz says it’ll give a bad message to the other violins if I don’t.”
“It’s fine, Lyd, I’m not telling you what to do. I understand.”
They passed through the door into the lobby, only to find Dafydd standing directly in front of them.
“Ladies,” he boomed. “I hope I can count on your presence tonight?”
Vanessa coughed as if about to choke on something. Lydia simply smiled tightly.
“Lydia, as one of my most valued team-members,” he carried on with a false affability that made her flesh crawl. “And Vanessa, to mend fences and show that bygones can be bygones. No hard feelings.”
“I have plenty of hard feelings,” muttered Vanessa.
“Funny you should say that…” he murmured, leering.
“Oh, fuck off!”
She barged past him into the hall, Lydia trotting along in her wake. At the door, von Ritter stood in conversation with a clutch of string players.
“Vanessa.” He held up a hand, arresting her progress.
“Herr von Ritter.”
“I want you come to this reception tonight.”
“I’m sorry, but ―”
“I don’t want division in my orchestra. Dafydd has promised me he will leave you alone and there will be no trouble. I want things to be dealt with in a professional and polite manner. Is that too much to ask?”
“Yes.”
“No. Bring Ben as your partner. Everybody will be there. What can he do or say? I’ll be watching him and so will Lydia. I don’t mean to dismiss the pain he caused you—Lydia’s told me all about that—but it was twenty years ago. Let’s start afresh.”
Vanessa shook her head. “You don’t understand―” she spluttered.
But von Ritter held up a hand, silencing her.
“I understand you don’t want to have anything to do with him. But he is a part of this orchestra and so are you. If you aren’t capable of having a professional relationship with him, then perhaps you should reconsider your commitment here.”
Vanessa’s jaw dropped. She could think of nothing to say in response to this.
“So you’ll be there?”
Von Ritter didn’t wait for an answer but glided away in the direction of Lydia, leaving Vanessa to kick the skirting board before storming down the steps.
* * * *
The Portico Rooms gleamed with luxury, the air fragrant with the giant vases of flowers adorning every surface.
By the time Vanessa and Ben had arrived, the reception was in full, noisy swing. They accepted a flute of champagne each, Vanessa surreptitiously pouring hers into a vase.
“I’
m not sure that’s good for flowers,” demurred Ben.
“I’m not drinking champagne. I’ve got nothing to celebrate.”
“What about not having to live with Daffy Duck anymore? That’s worth a mouthful of bubbles, I’d have thought.”
Vanessa rewarded him with a reluctant laugh.
“Yeah. God. He’s looking over already.”
“Don’t look at him, Ness. You’ll only encourage him.”
“I’m trying not to,” she said with a sigh. “Shit, he’s coming over. Snog me.”
“Don’t be so childish!”
But Ben’s protests were cut short by Vanessa crooking an arm around his neck and tiptoeing to reach his lips. As his mouth was half-full of champagne, he choked and coughed into her mouth, the effect perhaps not as erotic or as sensual as Vanessa had hoped for.
Matters were only made worse when Dafydd passed by, carrying a silver tray full of drinks, which he slid towards Ben until they emptied all over his trousers.
“Whoops,” said Dafydd as the pair sprang apart, glaring. “Careless of me. Mind you, you did seem to need a dousing with cold water.”
He strode on, as if oblivious to the consternation he had caused.
“Oh bloody hell,” moaned Ben. “I look as if I’ve wet myself.”
“Go down to the Gents’ and use the hand-dryer,” Vanessa advised, snarling after Dafydd’s back. “Actually…”
A thought occurred to her, and the genesis of a slow smile twitched at her lips.
“Go on.” She pushed him towards the door. “Wait for me down there. I’ll be a couple of minutes.”
She watched him hobble, hand on crotch, to the cloakrooms and turned to find Lydia or another supportive colleague to shelter her from any unwanted attentions.
Lydia was with two other violinists, Meredith and Katja, giggling in a corner.
“What’s funny?” asked Vanessa, reaching their huddle.
“My sex life,” said Lydia. “I’ve just been telling them some Milan stories.”
“Wish I had so much to laugh about.”
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