by JJ Marsh
Anton laughed. “You’re pretty observant, you know. But Jun has earned her place. She was the brightest academia star in the Osaka Philharmonic.”
“That explains her attitude of entitlement. You should have seen her face when I told her I was a violin teacher. She’s half a metre shorter than me but I swear I could see up her nostrils. Ah, here he is! You poor darling! Have you been putting up with those appalling people all this time? You need a drink.” She grabbed the bottle and shook it. “Oh, it looks like we’ve killed this one. Rolf, my darling, run upstairs and get another bottle of champagne, would you? Our reward after surviving that hideous garden party.”
Rolf didn’t move. “Why didn’t you tell me you were leaving? I waited outside the ladies’ toilets for half an hour. You could have said something.”
Anton moved Blue off the chair beside him and set the cat on Leonor’s lap. “Sit down, Rolf. I can get the champagne while you two chat. Leonor, keys?”
She was drunk, that much was clear. Her gaze switched from Rolf to Anton to the cat as she stroked the animal with one hand and fumbled in her purse for the keys to their apartment with the other. Since when had Anton been so familiar that he could let himself in and out of their home?
“I don’t need any more champagne,” said Rolf. “I’m not sure you do either. Have you eaten? All I had were a couple of tiny sandwiches I barely had time to finish. I’m going upstairs to have some food. Goodnight, Anton.” He walked away, aware of the snorts and giggles behind his back. He ignored them, furious that he could have been in a bar with Trudi right now if he hadn’t come home to check on Leonor.
So much for Friday night.
On Wednesday morning, he was awoken by raindrops hammering on the roof and windows. Leonor slept on, her arm stretched out across his pillow so he had to shuffle down the bed in order to avoid her hand. He was awake and already worrying about the day ahead, so the best use of his time was to get up and practise for an hour before he caught the bus to work.
By the time he left, there was still no sign of her stirring, so he left a note and grabbed an umbrella to walk to the bus stop. The bus was full, all seats taken and several people standing in the aisle. He took his place among them, apologising for the unwieldy nature of his cello case and wedging himself into the space reserved for wheelchairs. A movement caught his eye. A small hand waving at him across the aisle. He recognised her face as one of Leonor’s pupils – Susana, who had asked for an introduction. She was sitting next to a small blond boy who carried a violin case. Rolf waved back and both children giggled.
At the next stop, several people left the bus, allowing a little more space. To Rolf’s surprise, Susana and her friend hopped out of their seats and came to stand beside him.
“Good morning, Herr Jaro. I’d like to introduce you to my friend, Dieter Fitz. We are in the same class at school and he too is going to study with Frau von Rosenheim!”
The boy nodded his head eagerly. He spoke High German with an Austrian accent. “Freut mich sehr. Ich kann es kaum erwarten!”
“Pleased to meet you too, Dieter. I’m not surprised you’re excited. I hope you enjoy your lessons. It was very nice to meet you both and I wish you a lovely start to your week. This is my stop and I must go to work. Have a good day!” He got off the bus and waved to the young people as it pulled away. Members of a future string section, perhaps?
The string section. He was still chewing over what Leonor had told him. During her drunken gossip with Anton on Friday night, he had confirmed that the maestro was having a relationship with second violinist Jun Takei. Rolf refused to believe it, dismissing it as an orchestra rumour. Nothing he had seen indicated any impropriety in their cooperation, and he was inclined to believe that Anton’s relegation from the main orchestra to children’s opera administrator had given rise to some resentment.
The relationship between his girlfriend and his neighbour bothered him. Sometimes a lot, sometimes hardly at all. The fact was the two of them spent all day in the same house and several evenings a week in each other’s company while Rolf was out performing. He could understand it from Anton’s perspective. Leonor was dynamic, charming, intelligent and well educated. As well as being incredibly sexy. She was also funny and a great listener. But what drew Leonor to a second grade musician whose only enthusiasm seemed to be for a Burmese cat? He didn’t dislike Anton, but found nothing appealing in the man, so what attracted Leonor? Then again, from an external perspective, who would understand her attraction to Rolf Jaro? He splashed his way to the musician’s entrance and shook off the rain and the negativity. It was time for rehearsals and focus.
6
“Maestro, I just wanted to say thank you for inviting us to the garden party last week. It was an education and opened my eyes as to how many people are influential in supporting the orchestra. I appreciate the invitation and I would like to pass on thanks from my partner as well.”
Wilk lifted an eyebrow. “That’s very kind of you to say so. I hoped to talk more with Frau von Rosenheim, but it seems she was called away early, no?”
Rolf opened his mouth to invent an excuse of Leonor’s sudden illness, but something about the maestro’s eyes triggered the urge to be truthful. “Not exactly. My partner is accustomed to mixing in higher social circles than me. She interpreted the dress code as rather more formal and I believe she was embarrassed and chose to leave. I apologise. Dress codes and social morés are not my speciality and I feel that I failed her on the first occasion she met my colleagues.”
“It’s a shame she was disappointed by our simple garden party, but she will soon have the occasion to wear all her finery to the première. Which reminds me, I wanted to mention, all orchestra members receive two tickets for the dress rehearsal. That allows them to invite friends or family before the show opens. So if you wish to invite anyone else of your acquaintance, you may. The only thing you need do is give their names to the box office. Excuse me, I have to make a phone call.”
The morning proceeded well, and Rolf welcomed the need for intense concentration. The discipline of performing with his fellow musicians demanded all his focus. Shortly before twelve, they placed their instruments on their stands and listened to the maestro as he gave notes. It was childish and self-centred, but Rolf always tallied up the number of points directed at himself compared to the rest of the orchestra. Today, the brass section got it in the neck and the strings got off lightly. Wilk dismissed them for lunch and warned them the terrace was closed to both public and staff due to the weather.
Like every other day, Trudi and Jun came to find him. Trudi suggested eating lunch together in one of the dressing rooms so they could gossip in peace. Jun persuaded Stage Door to give them a key, Rolf collected the sandwiches and they had an impromptu picnic under the make-up lights in one of the smaller chorus rooms. They dissected the party on Friday night, sharing elements of rumour, fact and opinion.
“Max Hofmeister is a fine-looking man,” Trudi said. “But he’s not interested in the likes of us, Jun. He’s far more likely to chase Rolf than you or me.”
Jun placed her hand over her mouth. “That’s impossible! He’s happily married and devoted to his wife.”
“Classic!” said Trudi. “A socially acceptable front while he pursues his passions, usually discreetly and sometimes not so much. He’s not the only one, either. Anyway, what about Bertrand’s news?”
Jun giggled in excitement. “I’m so happy for him!”
Rolf looked blankly from one to the other.
“His wife is pregnant,” said Trudi. “Twins! Kids number one and two are due in November.”
“Oh, wow!” Rolf exclaimed, his enthusiasm lukewarm. Children, as far as he was concerned, had the same effect on a musician as an injury. They imposed limits on what one could achieve and absorbed far too much time and energy. Some players never recovered. Thankfully, he and Leonor were in complete agreement. Kids had no place in their dream future. He refocused his attention on Bertr
and’s impending fatherhood. “That’s going to be quite a challenge for him.”
“Too right. He’s already asked to be excused from weekend performances and that includes the quartet. And he won’t be able to come on tour with us this autumn. I’m happy for him too, Jun, on a personal level, but it means the end of his career as a musician. My bet is the board offer him an admin role, overseeing the chamber music programme or something. He’s the obvious choice.”
Jun wiped mayonnaise from her fingers. “Obvious, yes, but not necessarily popular. It’s the same with all of us who come from other countries. The Austrians, Swiss and Germans all think they should take priority in an Austrian orchestra. Bertrand will have a tricky job ahead of him.”
“But Bertrand is Swiss! What are they complaining about?”
Jun gave Trudi a despairing look. “He is from the French part of Switzerland. You know what I mean. You German speakers still feel you are superior simply because of your familiarity with the language. I’m not starting that argument again, but we should make sure that Bertrand is supported. I was thinking, what about a party? Just a few of his friends to celebrate his news and let him know he’s still one of us. Does anyone have a decent-size living room? Or maybe a garden? My landlord forbids any gathering of more than four people.”
“If we had a party in my flat, it would be like a game of sardines. Rolf, your place has a nice garden. Could we celebrate there? There’s no concert this Friday night so that would be the perfect time.”
Rolf thought about it. Under normal circumstances, he would immediately make an excuse because the effort of persuading Leonor it was a good idea for him to have friends sapped his energy. However, after her last lesson on Friday morning, she was leaving Salzburg to return to Bratislava for the weekend. The plan was for Rolf to join her on Saturday morning. That meant he would be alone on Friday night and if Anton didn’t mind – why would he? – they could throw a small gathering amongst friends.
“Yeah, probably. I’ll need to check with my neighbour, but I don’t see why not.”
“Anton won’t mind! He’s a party animal and he knows everybody on the guest list. Shall we keep it a surprise for Bertrand?”
Rolf shook his head from side to side with conviction. “No, let’s tell him. For one thing, it avoids the whole secrecy element and ensures he is prepared. Secondly, he knows we support him and he has something to look forward to. I vote for telling him.”
“I agree with that,” said Jun. “Pass me that paper, Trudi, and I’ll start making a guest list.”
“If you say so, principal second violinist. Here you go. Just don’t invite René. I can’t stand another minute of his showing-off.”
Jun laughed. “Oh, mutiny against the concert master, from his very own team as well! Don’t worry, I wouldn’t dream of it, that man’s such a bore.” She looked up, her expression uncertain. “Should we invite the maestro?”
Rolf did not reply, conscious of the rumours he had heard over the weekend.
“No,” said Trudi. “We all adore the maestro, but sometimes he deserves a break from our faces. Not only that, but if he’s present, everybody will be on their best behaviour. And this is an opportunity for Bertrand to let his hair down, for us to have a drink or two and sing ourselves hoarse.”
Rolf and Jun burst into laughter and Jun, to his surprise, agreed. “You’re right. He would accept out of politeness, but he’d be bored out of his mind. Much like we were last Friday night. Oh, I’m really excited about this! I love making plans.”
Rolf had an individual rehearsal with the maestro after the main orchestra dispersed for the day. It went relatively well and Wilk had several words of praise for his playing. Then, out of the blue, he offered a second invitation.
“You are aware, I think, that the orchestra has several chamber music ensembles. This weekend I would like to invite you to play with one of the groups. Since Bertrand de Salis will be devoting more time to family matters, I am looking for another cellist to accompany Ms Takei, Ms Schneider and Mr Berger. It has not escaped my notice that you are friendly with both ladies and neighbour to Mr Berger, so it comes as no surprise the quartet put you up as a preferred candidate. Therefore it seemed logical in my eyes to ask you if you would be interested. The concerts, of which there are two, take place over lunchtime in two different venues in Salzburg. A church on Saturday and the public bandstand on Sunday. What do you think?”
The first thought that flashed through Rolf’s mind was what Leonor would say if he told her he was not returning to Bratislava but spending the weekend without her in Salzburg with friends she had made no secret of disliking. The second thought was less altruistic. A classical cellist, offering his talent for free like a busker? He hesitated, weighing up the advantages of being included in a chamber music ensemble against demeaning himself and enraging the woman he loved.
“It’s not a demotion,” said the maestro. “In fact, it’s the opposite. I would like more people to have the opportunity to see you play and hear the sounds you create with your instrument. If you feel it’s too much on top of an intensive week of rehearsals and tomorrow’s concert, I completely understand.”
“No! Not at all. My girlfriend and I had plans to return to Bratislava this weekend, but if I’m completely honest, I would much rather stay here and play. Yes, thank you very much for the offer and yes, I would love to play with Trudi, Jun and Anton.”
The maestro gave him a penetrating stare, followed by one of his now-you-see-it-now-you-don’t smiles. “That’s very good news. Perhaps tomorrow you can confirm your availability when you’ve spoken with your partner and I will make the necessary arrangements. I do believe we are finished for the day. I wish you a pleasant evening and look forward to seeing you in the morning. Good evening, Mr Jaro.”
The rain had stopped so Rolf decided to walk back to the apartment. He needed some time to rehearse his apologies and excuses because one thing was certain. Leonor was not going to be happy.
She wasn’t home. He knocked on Anton’s door but he wasn’t home either. He checked the garden, which was empty, and picked up his phone but did not dial her number. Where would they have gone? He was home later than usual so he had expected her to be in the kitchen, preparing some food for them both. She hadn’t messaged or left a note to explain where she was. He acknowledged a sense of irritation and if he was completely honest, a flash of jealousy.
He caught himself in this self-pitying loop of macho expectations and made up his mind to prepare dinner himself. He put Telemann’s Matthew Passion on the stereo to soothe his anger and listen without a cellist’s critical ear while he began preparing dinner. The chamber concerts at the weekend would not be particularly challenging in terms of technique, although it would be interesting to see how he fitted in to an established quartet. The sound of the ventilator above the hob and the glorious praising of the baroque choir from the living room masked the sound of Leonor coming home.
The first thing he knew was when she grabbed him by the hips and pulled him against her. She bit his neck and ran her right hand down his buttock and around his crotch. Her left hand caught the back of his head and twisted it towards her so she could kiss him. Instantly aroused, he dropped the wooden spoon and responded to her touch. Then a dark thought crossed his mind. The more sex Leonor had, the more she wanted. If she’d been with Anton this afternoon, that might explain her unrestrained lust. He pulled away.
“Wow! You’re in a good mood.”
“I’m in an excellent mood,” she purred, taking his earlobe in her mouth. “I’ve been riding.”
Now he recognised the strong scent from her body, one he knew. “Horses?” he asked.
She released him and spun him to face her. “No, camels. What else? There’s something about the smell of the stables and powerful muscles between my thighs that brings back so many happy, horny memories. I was desperate to get home and rip off your clothes. I almost brought us some hay, for old times’ sake.”
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She reached past him, switched off the cooker and began undressing him there in the kitchen. He didn’t object. After sex, she was always more relaxed and persuadable, so he rose to the occasion.
They ate in the dining-room, Leonor enthusing about the stables she had found, the horses she had tried out and the offer from the owner to exercise them whenever she wanted.
“He said I had the best seat he’d ever seen. He also said the horses trusted me instinctively. God, they have some beauties, I can tell you. He invited me to ride their breeding stallion, an Arabian, this weekend, but I told him we were going to Bratislava. So I’m going to do that next weekend, just so you know. It’s a long way out of Salzburg so I’ll be gone most of the day. I’m going to go twice in the week, as well.”
Rolf finished his chilli and waited for his moment. “That sounds fantastic. And you can rearrange your lessons to give yourself sufficient free time.”
“Yeah, I put the Fritz kid on Fridays with the other two. So I give lessons at home on Mondays and Fridays, and teach at the conservatoire on Wednesdays, leaving me with Tuesdays and Thursdays to go to the stables.”
The child’s name was Fitz, not Fritz, but now was not the time to correct her. “So you’ll be pretty busy.”
“Yes. It’s all working out perfectly and on top of that, I get to ride my own horse this weekend. This chilli is delicious. Thank you for making dinner and making me happy.” She gave him a meaningful look and a seductive smile.
“My pleasure. I wanted to ask you something. The maestro has offered me an opportunity to play with the chamber music ensemble at two concerts this weekend. I told him I would have to ask you, as we already had plans, but I think that would be a significant step up in terms of my status. I’d like to do it. You could stay here this weekend and go to the stables, then next weekend we could travel to Bratislava together.” His suggestion sounded genuine, but he was banking on her refusal.