by JJ Marsh
“I heard a different version.”
“No shit?” She tapped him on the temple. “Think about it. I have to go. See you tomorrow.”
Blue was most displeased at having been shut in the apartment all morning. He followed Rolf from room to room, yowling in protest. It seemed like a more practical idea to take him and all his accoutrements downstairs and open the French windows, allowing him to roam free while Rolf packed a suitcase for Anton. The weather was beautiful and despite his uncertainty about the future, Rolf’s optimism lifted his spirits. He spent over an hour selecting shirts, T-shirts, trousers, underwear and shoes, packing all the toiletries he guessed Anton would need, and adding a few extra items such as his phone charger, fifty Euros and his sunglasses.
There was no rush as Anton needed some rest. In any case, Rolf was hungry. He ran upstairs and made himself Rösti with a fried egg on top, eating it on the balcony to keep an eye out for Blue. Trudi’s words bumped around his brain and he resolutely refused to address them. The telephone rang. Hardly anyone called the landline. Rolf ignored it, expecting a sales call. The caller left a message.
“This is a message for Frau von Rosenheim from Angela Baia. This is to inform you that Susana no longer wishes to study violin with you and will not be attending on Monday or any future lessons. You will be paid for your services thus far. Thank you and goodbye.”
Susana Baia. He remembered the furtive look on the bus and wondered whether her reluctance to associate with him was not due to Anton, but Leonor. Susana and Dieter were friends, so they might have shared their experiences of their violin classes. As soon as Trudi said the words ‘Someone set him up. And I think we both know who it was’, Rolf had rejected opening that mental portal. Leonor was manipulative and devious, that much he knew, but to involve children in an accusation of sexual misconduct was below her. Both children were bright and talented and knew right from wrong. It was inconceivable that Leonor had persuaded the Fitz boy to make an unfounded accusation.
A voice whispered in his ear. Inconceivable? Really?
Rolf, of all people, knew how Leonor could twist a person around her little finger, bestowing and withholding, bewildering a vulnerable mind with the force of her praise or disappointment until its owner became desperate to please. Anything to earn her approval. Rolf had met her at the age of twenty-one, and after a couple of conversations he’d been enthralled, a slave to her whims. Dieter was a child, without the armour of adulthood to deflect her barbs. Trudi’s impression of Hofmeister returned. Rolf Jaro is out of his depth, both as a musician and a man.
He shook the thought off. Time to go. He cleaned up, locked the flat and left a bowl of food downstairs for Blue, who was still absent. The cat flap was open, there was fresh water and he could either sleep in Anton’s flat or come upstairs when Rolf returned. As always, the cat would make his own decisions. He made sure both apartments were secure and collected his phone from the charging station. There was a message from Leonor.
The stables are having a party tonight. A grill, beers, and dancing. They’ve offered me a bed for the night and I’m staying over because I intend to get drunk.
Her absence was a relief, one less thing to worry about. He took another look outside the windows for Blue and left. The afternoon was roasting hot and after dragging Anton’s suitcase two streets, he was dripping with sweat. Part of him was irritated with the weather, although a beautiful sunny afternoon was the perfect backdrop for the Mirabell jazz concert. He’d never had that freedom just to hang out with friends, listen to music and enjoy himself. When this was all over, maybe he’d tag along to an event with Trudi.
At her apartment, all was quiet. The only scent in the room was fabric conditioner emanating from Anton’s clothes that wafted in the breeze from the balcony. He tapped on the bedroom door and waited for a response. None came. He eased open the door to see an empty bed.
“Here you are,” said a voice behind him. “I was just having some lunch in the kitchen. Did you get my stuff?” Anton’s skin was still pale and papery, but the light had returned to his eyes. He reached for the handle of the suitcase, giving Rolf a grateful smile.
He lifted the suitcase onto the sofa and unzipped it to reveal the contents. “Boxer shorts, thank God. My favourite shirt! Oh, linen trousers, exactly what I need. You brought my trainers and my sunglasses. You are a lifesaver. Thank you, thank you.”
Rolf reached out for a hug. Anton jerked away, holding up a hand to keep Rolf at a distance. “Please don’t. I’m sorry. My whole life has just been turned upside down and I’ve no idea what happens next. You must understand, Rolf, that your girlfriend tried to sabotage me.” He forestalled Rolf’s protests. “Don’t say anything now, because you need to think things through. I’ve had a lot of time in the last forty-eight hours to piece things together. She found out about us and tried to smear my name. How can I trust you? You’ve got a foot in both camps.”
Rolf didn’t answer.
Anton’s gaze was steady. “You’re under her control. Leonor terrifies you and I begin to understand why. No, don’t explain, I really don’t want to know. Look, Rolf, I can’t make this right, because I didn’t make it wrong. Tomorrow afternoon, I’m going to stay at my sister’s place in the suburbs. She has a garden Blue will love. It will give me time to regroup and decide how I’m going to recover from this.”
Rolf’s throat contracted and it seemed as if a thin blade pierced his naval. “And what about our friendship? You, Trudi, Jun and Bertrand are important to me.”
Anton picked up his sunglasses, tracing the rim with his index finger, not meeting Rolf’s eyes. “Jun and the maestro are coming over at ten o’clock tomorrow morning. We need to talk. I think you should be here too, even though you might not like what they have got to say.”
“Sure, I’ll be here.”
Anton gave him a quick smile. “Can I ask one more thing? I’m catching a train tomorrow afternoon, around five. Could you come to the main station and bring Blue? His cat carrier is in the kitchen cupboard. Officially, he belongs to the house, not me, but I can’t leave him behind. Not with her there.”
Rolf’s head dropped and he stared at the floor, despair flooding out of him. Twice he tried to speak, but couldn’t find the words.
“It’s OK, Rolf. We’ll get over this, I’m sure of it. At this particular moment, I don’t know how, but knowing the maestro is coming here tomorrow gives me hope. One thing you should know. If I find proof she was behind this, I will report her to the police. As for your relationship?” He shrugged, “That’s your problem, I’m afraid.”
A tsunami of heat rose in Rolf’s head, pressing out tears he could not control. He held out the spare key and dropped it into Anton’s palm, then fumbled his way out of the apartment. What else was there to say?
“That’ll be forty-five Euros, seventy cents please.”
Rolf pressed his debit card against the machine and the beep confirmed the transaction had gone through. He wished the cashier a pleasant evening, but couldn’t return her smile and went back to the house. Rather than going upstairs, he opened Anton’s apartment and unpacked his groceries in the kitchen, by the French windows. He took the fresh box of kibble he had bought, opened the windows and shook it, calling Blue’s name. The cat did not deign to respond.
He fried Frikadellen and ate them on the sofa with a beer and some sauerkraut. He contemplated life without anyone, on his own, bachelor style. Freer in some ways, and certainly richer on the personal level. He’d meet his friends as often and whenever he wanted. But that could change fast. One misstep and the air would turn frosty. He’d just witnessed a prime example. Besides, people got on with their own lives, as musical nomads or when retreating to family life. He’d always meet new people, of course, but would it ever be as special again? Frei aber einsam was an alarmingly harsh outlook, without a single ally.
He wasn’t yet able to ride without stabilisers. Most of the time they didn’t touch the ground anymore, but
it was good to know they were there to prevent a major fall on a bad day. To that extent, Leonor had insights, strength and endurance like no one else. She acted as his compass, her goal always in sight, even during the worst storms. He could always look to her for reassurance. She knew what was best for them. Good times were truly good with her, and they always had been. Yes, her temper was dangerous when unleashed, and her guidance could be oppressive at times. But it was usually in direct response to his actions. Wasn’t it also expected to some extent, inherent in the role she carried? His coach, his mentor took over the strategy, leaving him to focus on the execution.
Dusk encroached across the grass and Blue appeared, his voice audible before his presence became visible. Rolf opened a tray of stupidly expensive cat food and scraped it into his bowl. It met with the cat’s approval and he finished the lot, even going so far as to lick all remaining traces from the dish.
He wanted to stroke that sleek fur, making an affectionate connection, but the cat wasn’t in the mood. Blue stalked off without a backward glance, leaped onto the sofa and started licking his paws, ignorantly content. Rolf heard an echo of Anton’s voice humming My Way.
Maybe the answer was staring him in the face. Following his own path required no loyalty or dependence, nothing other than a belief in himself. Without the constant willingness to fulfil someone else’s agenda, he might make better, more genuine choices. There was only one way to find out.
The thought made him stumble. Life without Leonor would make him a stray dog – unleashed yet unprotected. On top of the risk, he had no clue how to effect the transition in the first place. She’d never agree to an amicable separation and he would live in fear of her reprisals for the rest of his life. A scenario played across his mind. She’s riding in the woods. A forester is keeping a check on the deer population. He shoots a sickly doe and the horse bolts, throwing Leonor to the ground. A tragic accident. Broken neck. Rolf gives a short eulogy at the funeral. He rubbed his eyes. He was daydreaming about the death of his girlfriend.
Too many veils had dropped from his eyes, and he was scrambling to find his place in the world. Who was he, after all? For years, he had been living from one moment to the next, content just to survive to see the following day. Those vile, desperate years where his single focus was on how to get his high and what vile, desperate acts he would have to commit in order to do so. He had no optimism or belief in the future. He could only think as far as the next hit.
Then came Leonor. She got him clean, trained him in how to please her, launched his career and curated it from then on. Who was he? Could he really consider himself clean? Or had his addictive personality substituted drugs for a different kind of dependence?
He wasn’t like the rest of the orchestra. He was a lab rat; he kept pressing the button that gave him instant gratification. Without Leonor he would sink without trace, and she knew it. Their shared narrative was that she had rescued him, but the truth was that she had replaced one bad habit with another. He had no agency; she taken that from him. He couldn’t play with the quartet, he couldn’t choose his friends, and at the same time he couldn’t leave her. Nothing had changed. Rolf was a naked little boy, squealing and racing across wet grass, under the delusion he could escape the inevitable leather belt.
Having finished cleaning himself, Blue curled up and relaxed beside him. Rolf opted to stay, with no real reason to go upstairs, while the light was fading and an evening breeze freshened the room. Rolf stroked the cat’s velveteen fur and tried very hard to imagine the future.
17
Sunday morning dawned sunny and bright. Rolf woke in Anton’s bed with Blue at his feet and decided to have breakfast in the garden. The world looked much brighter, lighter and clearer this morning. Despite his determination to hide from the facts, he knew it was time to step up and stick to the plan.
He fed Blue another can of turkey and jelly, made himself an omelette and sat under the pergola to enjoy it with a cup of coffee. Blue sat beside him, demanding regular samples.
This time next week. After the dress rehearsal in front of the board and sponsors, after the inevitable changes that would result, and after the first night. Next Sunday morning he would explain to Leonor von Rosenheim that he made a mistake with Anton, that it was all just due to him being disoriented, insecure and drunk. A confused mess for which he would ask her forgiveness and focus on their future together – the best of teams. He would work hard to stand on his own feet, and in return he would expect her to slacken the reins, using more energy for herself. After a successful premiere, with heavy hearts and light heads, she would understand and forgive him. Perfect timing. One more week. And some air to breathe.
At nine o’clock, he showered, changed, left Blue prowling the garden and set off for Trudi’s apartment. His nerves were shot, but he reminded himself he was only there to listen, not defend Leonor or pile on accusations. Just listen.
When he arrived, all four of his colleagues were sitting in Trudi’s living room. The maestro, as always, dressed in black and the others in various shades of grey, white and navy blue. He wondered if they had coordinated a dress code and dismissed the thought immediately.
“Hello, everyone, thank you for inviting me. Maestro, do you have any news?”
The maestro bowed his head in welcome and Trudi waved him into a seat.
“I got some croissants and pastries from the bakery. Be grateful they’re not home-made, which means they’re edible. Do you want some coffee?”
Food or more caffeine held no interest for Rolf. He tried to disguise his impatience. “Thank you but no. I ate a large breakfast even though I shared half of it with the cat.”
Anton’s face softened and he gave Rolf a genuine smile.
The maestro spoke. “Yes, Herr Jaro, I do have news. Some of it good and some of it bad. Perhaps you would like to take a seat?” He reached for Jun’s hand and they clenched their palms together as if to give one another strength. It was the first time Rolf had seen any public display of affection between them.
“The Fitz family called me late last night. Dieter is in hospital after a suicide attempt.”
Rolf froze, Trudi dropped her head and Anton recoiled as if he’d been punched.
“Is he going to be all right?” Anton asked, his voice hoarse.
“We just came from hospital and I’m happy to tell you my godson is out of danger. He is still to be interviewed by the police, but I was able to have a private conversation with his parents. On Saturday evening, Dieter confessed to fabricating the allegations against Herr Berger but refused to tell them why, becoming increasingly distressed. They decided to leave the subject until the following morning, but on checking him before they went to bed they discovered Dieter had taken all his mother’s sleeping tablets in an attempt to end his life. Herr and Frau Fitz believe their son was coached and have good reason to suspect the person who instructed him, I’m sorry to say, was Leonor von Rosenheim.”
Rolf glanced around the room. Everyone but the maestro was looking at the floor.
“Previously, he used to love his violin lessons, but after switching tutors at Herr Berger’s request, his behaviour changed. He made excuses not to attend private classes and when his parents insisted, he came home miserable and uncommunicative. Until Dieter confirms that she was the person who encouraged him to make such accusations, the police can go no further. I’m in an awkward situation as the bearer of unpleasant news, but you should know there is every chance the police will want to speak to your partner, Herr Jaro.”
Rolf massaged his face, covering his eyes for a second. He faced his colleagues. “Of course that’s what they should do.”
They waited, as if expecting him to say more.
“What do you think, Rolf?” Jun asked, her voice gentle. “We don’t know her like you do.”
Rolf looked from face to face, trying to understand what she was asking. “What do I think about what, exactly?”
Anton released a breath and
looked out of the window. There was a moment of complete stillness as if they were in a vacuum.
“Gottverdammt, Rolf, wake up, will you!” Two patches of colour shaded Trudi’s cheeks. “What Jun is trying to ask is whether you believe such a thing is possible! Do you believe your girlfriend is capable of asking a child to lie in order to destroy Anton’s career?”
There was no possible way Rolf could answer that without revealing his and Anton’s nascent relationship. He floundered for something to say until the maestro put him out of his misery.
“I think I perceive the root of your confusion, Herr Jaro, and we have been unfair by not providing context. I apologise. My mind is more than a little muddled this morning. We are amongst friends so let us speak freely. When I left the Fitz family, I was deeply confused. After hearing their conviction that Dieter had been groomed by your girlfriend to make an accusation against your neighbour, I found it highly implausible. What reason would she have to destroy Herr Berger’s reputation? As far as I knew, you were all friends.”
Anton would not meet Rolf’s stare.
The maestro continued. “Then I recollected meeting you backstage one day as you came upstairs from the basement dressing rooms. I assumed that you had been exploring the building. And then, a few moments later, Herr Berger followed you up the stairs. Let me be honest and reassure you that I am familiar with conducting a relationship I would prefer not to be public knowledge.” He smiled at Jun and something tender passed in the look between them. “When I arrived here this morning, I was anxious to inform Herr Berger that I believed in his innocence and offered an explanation as to why. I’m afraid that involved making some assumptions regarding his relationship with you. Herr Berger confirmed that those assumptions were correct. Any indiscretion is mine and I take full responsibility. This knowledge offered us a logical insight. If your clandestine affair is not as secret as you imagine, your girlfriend would certainly have a motive for trying to destroy her rival.”