Appassionata (75 page)
‘Let me go on being lovely, josst give it time, sweetheart.’ It was the nearest he got to begging.
‘We can’t, not if I’m still in love with Rannaldini. You’re too, well, decent to put up with half-measures.’
‘So young, and so untender’
said Viking bitterly.
said Viking bitterly.
‘So young, my lord, and true.’
Just to test Flora’s total immunity, Viking tried another tack. Why didn’t he mix business with pleasure by making a play for Jessica, George’s thick but stunning secretary?
‘Then I can lure her back to The Bordello for long lunches when George is away and you can raid the files and see what the dirty duo are really op to.’
Viking winced when Flora agreed listlessly, but without any display of jealousy, that this would be a very good idea.
‘But one man loved the pilgrim soul in you,’
he said sadly, taking Flora’s hand.
he said sadly, taking Flora’s hand.
He then went out and got drunk. He was far too proud to show it, but he was desperately unhappy for the first time in his life.
Valentine’s Day temporarily distracted the RSO from their gloom. Suddenly red envelopes were nesting like robins in pigeon holes. Still shell-shocked by her sighting of Rannaldini, Flora hardly noticed how many she received. Blue reeled round the band room in ecstasy, because he recognized Cathie’s writing on the envelope sending him a chocolate heart. Militant Moll ordered Ninion to put a valentine message in the
Independent
and left it lying around. Poor Fat Isobel sent three cards to herself to avoid humiliation. All Cyril’s week’s wages went on two dozen red roses for Miss Priddock. Miles smirked to get an unsigned jokey card from Brittlecombe, the village in which Hilary lived. Noriko was thrilled to have a valentine teddy bear holding a single red rose from Cherub. Dixie and Clare, Randy and Candy, Dimitri and Miss Parrott all went out to individual valentine dinners.
Independent
and left it lying around. Poor Fat Isobel sent three cards to herself to avoid humiliation. All Cyril’s week’s wages went on two dozen red roses for Miss Priddock. Miles smirked to get an unsigned jokey card from Brittlecombe, the village in which Hilary lived. Noriko was thrilled to have a valentine teddy bear holding a single red rose from Cherub. Dixie and Clare, Randy and Candy, Dimitri and Miss Parrott all went out to individual valentine dinners.
George Hungerford was distracted for ten minutes from the deficit while he opened his cards. All the management’s secretaries (including Miss Priddock, who had to think of John Drummond’s future) and most of the women musicians still harboured hopes of becoming the second Mrs Hungerford. Viking, who got twice as many cards, didn’t bother to open them. Jessica, George’s lovely secretary, however, was overwhelmed at lunch-time to receive a balloon in the shape of a pink heart bearing the words, ‘Hiya sexy’, rising out of two dozen pale pink roses accompanied by a card saying: ‘
Love from Viking
.’
Love from Viking
.’
Earlier in the day Jessica had been feeling a bit low. George had called her a blithering idiot for booking a pianist to play Bartók’s
Second Piano Concerto
rather than his
First
, which had been rehearsed by the orchestra – a mistake only discovered on the afternoon of the concert.
Second Piano Concerto
rather than his
First
, which had been rehearsed by the orchestra – a mistake only discovered on the afternoon of the concert.
Viking reassured her it was the easiest of mistakes. He was so comforting the following day, after Jessica had another bollocking from George for passing
‘Drunks 6 p.m.’
, on an invitation when it should have been
‘Drinks’
, that she accepted a dinner invitation. During the evening Viking learnt that the confidential files were stored on microfilm in George’s office and handled by George’s London secretary who usually came down one day a week.
‘Drunks 6 p.m.’
, on an invitation when it should have been
‘Drinks’
, that she accepted a dinner invitation. During the evening Viking learnt that the confidential files were stored on microfilm in George’s office and handled by George’s London secretary who usually came down one day a week.
Acting dumb, Viking told Jessica he was only bog Irish and had never seen a really sophisticated computer system before. Over a bottle of Moët in Jessica’s office on the second date, he managed to persuade her, since she was so brilliant, to initiate him into its mysteries. Jessica was feeling low that day because George had bawled her out for typing
‘Piggy Porker’
on a place card.
‘Piggy Porker’
on a place card.
Immensely flattered by Viking’s admiration, Jessica showed him how to find the Index which was called the file menu, how to locate the individual file one wanted and then how to print it out.
‘Of course, I’ve never looked at any of these files,’ she said. ‘They are far too secret, George would sack me.’
At a fleeting glance at the file menu, Viking couldn’t see any reference to Rannaldini, but during a steamy session, after Jessica had drunk seven-eighths of the Moët, he managed to elicit the password
‘Georgetown’
needed to enter the system.
‘Georgetown’
needed to enter the system.
‘But you must promish, promish not to tell anyone,’ whispered the delectable Jessica.
‘Georgetown,’ cried Viking in elation, as he entered her system.
Having stopped himself coming too soon, by studying the photographs of Mel Gibson and kittens and a poster calling for the banning of veal crates, Viking lay back afterwards playing ‘She loves me, she loves me not’, with the chewing-gum parked under Jessica’s desk. It came out: ‘She loves me not.’ Jessica was far prettier and had a far more beautiful body, but Viking was missing Flora so much it killed him. Somehow she had to be freed from Rannaldini’s evil spell.
In late February George went skiing. ‘No doubt to put another million in his Swiss bank account,’ said Flora sourly.
By coincidence, it was noticed Juno Meadows had taken the same week off. George was due back late Wednesday afternoon. In anticipation Miss Priddock took herself off to the hairdresser in her lunch-hour and Viking lured Jessica back to The Bordello for a long lunch leaving Flora free to raid the files.
Shaking with terror that she would trigger off an alarm or someone would come in, Flora locked herself into George’s office. It was rather like a sweet little village, with all those Perspex models with their balconies, loofah bay trees and Dinky cars outside the front door. Somehow, their cosiness blinded one to the tragedies behind their realization: the terrified old ladies, the threats of knee-capping, the flooded basements, the doors knocked out in the middle of the night.
The only jolly note was John Drummond fatly asleep in George’s out-tray and a bunch of Cyril’s yellow crocuses like a little gold sun on the big desk. Realizing what an ugly customer she was dealing with, Flora quailed. But, after all Viking’s hard work, she must be brave.
Turning on the computer, she was confronted with a screen as blank as Rannaldini’s face until the words
‘Enter Password’
came up. Her hands were trembling so much she had three goes before she managed to type in
‘Georgetown’
.
‘Enter Password’
came up. Her hands were trembling so much she had three goes before she managed to type in
‘Georgetown’
.
Eureka! There was the main menu. Running hastily down through the files:
‘Office Accounts’, ‘Foreign tours’, ‘Salaries
’, she came to the word
‘Private.’
‘Office Accounts’, ‘Foreign tours’, ‘Salaries
’, she came to the word
‘Private.’
Locating the
‘Private’
file menu she found far more exciting fare. She was tempted to stop and read the private detective’s report on George’s wife’s adultery or the details of various property fiddles: the Cotchester bypass, for example, was scheduled to go slap through Rupert’s estate. Serve him right for being such a sod to Marcus. Even more interesting would be the assessments on members of the RSO. Bloody hell, she couldn’t go through every file. She jumped nervously as John Drummond gave a great snore in his out-tray.
‘Private’
file menu she found far more exciting fare. She was tempted to stop and read the private detective’s report on George’s wife’s adultery or the details of various property fiddles: the Cotchester bypass, for example, was scheduled to go slap through Rupert’s estate. Serve him right for being such a sod to Marcus. Even more interesting would be the assessments on members of the RSO. Bloody hell, she couldn’t go through every file. She jumped nervously as John Drummond gave a great snore in his out-tray.
Looking back at the list of files she noted the innocuous words
‘Orchestra South’
, scrolled the cursor down the page and double clicked to get into the file. Got it in one! With increasing moans of horror, she realized she had unearthed a fiendish plot to merge the Cotchester Chamber Orchestra with the RSO and form a new Southern Super Orchestra. Rannaldini had always been wildly jealous of Simon Rattle and longed for the same sort of set-up as the Vienna Philharmonic and the Vienna State Opera where the musical director had control of a pool of crack musicans who could be called on to play for either company.
‘Orchestra South’
, scrolled the cursor down the page and double clicked to get into the file. Got it in one! With increasing moans of horror, she realized she had unearthed a fiendish plot to merge the Cotchester Chamber Orchestra with the RSO and form a new Southern Super Orchestra. Rannaldini had always been wildly jealous of Simon Rattle and longed for the same sort of set-up as the Vienna Philharmonic and the Vienna State Opera where the musical director had control of a pool of crack musicans who could be called on to play for either company.
As soon as Edith Spink retired later in the year, Rannaldini would take over as musical director of the CCO, Abby’s contract wouldn’t be renewed after March, nor would those of most of the RSO.
‘This is the only way we can hack out the dead wood,’
Rannaldini had written to George. The date was 5 January. Had Hermione introduced George to Rannaldini after
Messiah
?
Rannaldini had written to George. The date was 5 January. Had Hermione introduced George to Rannaldini after
Messiah
?
Julian would be fired because he had defied Rannaldini in New York. Viking, Blue, Simon, Dimitri and Peter were among the few players who would join the new Super Orchestra. Between them George and Rannaldini would build it back to double strength with virtuoso players in every department. Running her eye down the list Flora saw that surprisingly George had put a question mark beside her name. Then she gave a wail of misery discovering Rannaldini’s next E-mail.
Definitely not
, he had written crushingly,
Flora is unstable, vindictive and a pernicious influence
.
, he had written crushingly,
Flora is unstable, vindictive and a pernicious influence
.
The crumbling H.P. Hall and its surrounding twenty acres were the RSO’s only assets. This was where George came in. He would buy the property for a pittance in a white-knight gesture to get the orchestra out of debt, then lease it back to them. As soon as the orchestra folded he would build a supermarket.
The plot was horribly ingenious. Instead of putting horrid little houses all over Cowslip Hill, which no-one wanted, he would build a festival centre, a megaplex with twenty-four drive-in cinemas, golf-courses, food halls, virtual-reality centres and bouncy castles which would bring employment, tourists, fun and prosperity to Rutminster. In return all he asked was planning permission to knock down the highly dangerous, collapsing Victorian monstrosity, the Herbert Parker Hall and build a supermarket with a new roundabout to hive off traffic. No wonder George had been so reluctant to repair the roof. Cotchester already had a beautiful hall, no distance from Valhalla by helicopter in which the new Super Orchestra would be housed. The only sticking point seemed to be Rannaldini’s insistence on absolute hiring and firing rights.
Flora was about to print out the whole file when she nearly died of heart failure because there was a great hammering on the door.
‘Anyone at home? Come oot, come oot,’ called Dixie’s voice.
‘Priddock must be having a ziz,’ said Randy.
‘Or Jessica a bonk.’
But after a bit more hammering they got bored and wandered off.
Sweat was trickling down Flora’s body. She’d never make a burglar; her hand was shaking so violently she was petrified of pressing the wrong button and wiping all the evidence. But somehow she managed to switch back to the file menu and type in
‘Print’
beside
‘Orchestra South’
. Slowly but miraculously fifteen pages rolled out. She had just managed to shove them up her jersey and unlock the door when Jessica staggered in. It would have been hard to decide who looked the more guilty. Jessica’s hair was sopping from the shower. Flora felt sick with misery. Viking had obviously screwed her.
‘Print’
beside
‘Orchestra South’
. Slowly but miraculously fifteen pages rolled out. She had just managed to shove them up her jersey and unlock the door when Jessica staggered in. It would have been hard to decide who looked the more guilty. Jessica’s hair was sopping from the shower. Flora felt sick with misery. Viking had obviously screwed her.
Hearing a thud behind her, she jumped out of her skin but it was only John Drummond crash landing on the carpet, weaving round Jessica’s buckling legs. Flora hoped to God he didn’t speak English.
‘He’s asking for his dinner.’ said Jessica. ‘George is having a black-tie do at home this evening and he wants everything perfect. I’ll have to go out shopping again later, I wasted my entire lunch-hour trying to find scallops. If only there was a Waitrose in Rutminster.’
‘There may be one sooner than you think,’ said Flora grimly as she sidled out.
What the hell was she to do? Viking would have left for London by now to record the Brahms
Horn Trio
. The only answer, if she were to save Abby and the rest of the orchestra, was to tackle George at once.
Horn Trio
. The only answer, if she were to save Abby and the rest of the orchestra, was to tackle George at once.
Driving down the High Street, she saw a newspaper hoarding:
MEGAPLEX FOR COWSLIP HILL
.
MEGAPLEX FOR COWSLIP HILL
.
Screeching to a halt she picked up a paper but it only reported the delighted reaction of councillors and residents.
Alan Cardew, the planning officer, was quoted as saying, ‘This really puts Rutminster on the map.’
It was a bitterly cold evening. After a boiling bath to remove the sweat and a couple of stiff vodkas, Flora slid all over the road as she drove round to George’s splendid house which was situated on the other side of Rutminster as far as possible from both Cowslip Hill and H.P. Hall. George wouldn’t want to spoil his own green hills with megaplexes and supermarkets, thought Flora savagely as her wheel tracks ruined his perfect lawn.
The whole place, she could see, was speedily being wrecked by George’s fearful taste, a man on his own who had no truck with interior designers.
‘Bet he knocked her arms off,’ she muttered, as she passed a huge replica of the
Venus de Milo
glittering with frost.
Venus de Milo
glittering with frost.
The butler told her to hop it. So Flora asked him to tell Mr Hungerford that it was Flora Seymour and he better get rid of his dinner party, because she wanted to talk about Orchestra South.
After two minutes, by which time Flora had practically frozen to the doorstep, she was shown into George’s study.
The room was lit by a large chandelier which the butler promptly dimmed. The autumnal-leaf-patterned carpet was so new, he had great difficulty tugging the door shut over it. Brown leather sofas and armchairs hung about awkwardly, like buffaloes. Repro-Georgian bookshelves on either side of the gas log fire were filled with book-club editions, videos and reference books including
Encyclopaedia Britannica
by the yard.
Encyclopaedia Britannica
by the yard.
One wall was covered by a vast television screen and a stereo, a second by thousands of LPs, tapes and CDs. The third, which faced George’s imposing, incredibly tidy desk, was dominated by a Green Park railing portrait of a beautiful woman with short pale yellow hair and cold hare-bell-blue eyes, whose brilliance was accentuated by the huge sapphires round her neck. She had the disdainful perfection of women behind the beauty counters of big department stores, who want to shame you into spending a fortune on make-up and skin care. This must be Ruth whom George refused to divorce. She didn’t look a bundle of laughs. You could see why George had the hots for Juno. She and Ruth were the same type, ice rather than nice maidens.
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