Appassionata

In August 1994, I spent exciting days at the International World Power Competition. Sulamita Aronovsky was the indefatigable organizer, and I must thank Ann Fuller, Samantha Day, Irish judge John O’Conor and American judge Herbert Stessin for their marvellous observations. Joe Lewis looked after me backstage. Another brilliant British contestant, Paul Lewis, came second, and again spent many hours talking to me.

I must also thank Leonard Pearcey and Ruth Cubbin for twice inviting me to Radio 2’s excellent Young Musician of the Year Award. Many musicians helped me with the background material and stories for the book, they include Robin Brightman of the LSO; Richard Hewitt of the NEP; John Hill; Erich Gruenberg; Alberto Portugheis, Elizabeth Drew, Stuart Elsmore, Alistair Beattie, Alexa Butterworth, Mats Lidstrom, Angela Moore, Rodney Friend, former leader of the LSO; Norman Jones, former principal cellist to the Philharmonia; Raymond Cohen, former leader of the Royal Philharmonic and Hannah Roberts.

The music press were also fantastic. Malcolm Hayes of the Daily Telegraph and Mike Tumelty of the Glasgow Herald held my hand on the tour of Spain; David Fingleton looked after me at the Leeds and took me to endless lovely concerts, as did dear Lesley Garner, super columnist, and Mel Cooper, of Classic FM, who opened his great generous heart and his address book to me on endless occasions. John Julius Norwich invited me to a gorgeous lunch in the country. Norman Lebrecht of the Daily Telegraph, author of The Maestro Myth, nobly tracked down the legend of the chandelier in Buenos Aires Opera House. Keith Clarke, editor of Classical Music magazine and doughty fighter of musicians’ causes; Nicholas Kenyon, controller of Radio 3; Professor George Pratt, Peter Barker, and Ron Hall all gave me wonderful support. My old friend and Sunday Times colleague, Peter Watson, wrote a terrific biography of Nureyev, which was a constant inspiration when I was inventing my explosive dancer, Alexei Nemerovsky.

All my friends in fact entered into the spirit of the book. Alan Titchmarsh thought up the title Appassionata. My piano tuner, Marcus Constance, dreamt up a devilish plot for sabotaging a grand piano in the middle of a competition. Lord Marchwood took me up in an air balloon over France with General Sir Peter de la Billiere. Musicians have many ailments. Joanne Murphy advised me on physiotherapy, Dr Joe Cobbe, Dr Graham Hall and Staff Nurse Sue Workman on asthma. John Hunt introduced me to Anthony Norcliffe who knew all about mending brass players’ teeth.

On the non-musical front, Patrick Despard of Arcona was fiendishly imaginative about the splendours and skulduggeries of property developing. Toby Trustram-Eve was brilliant on computers, as were Andrew Parker- Bowles on racing; Peter Clarkson and Jean Alice Cook on nuns’ names and practices; Susie Layton on decor; Sue Jacobs of Leicestershire Social Services and Deborah Fowler in her book, A Guide to Adoption, on adoption. Other friends who came up with ideas include: Susannah and Bill Franklyn; Anthony Rubinstein; George and Dang Humphreys; John Woods; Roger and Rowena and Harry Luard; Francis Willey; Mary and Anthony Abrahams, Graham Hamilton, Michael Leworthy and John Conway of the Archduke Wine Bar.

I’d like to thank Jack and Patricia Godsell for their beautiful Toadsmoor Lake which was a magical source of inspiration, and Dr Ueli Habegger who finally located the island on Lake Lucerne where the ghost horn player can sometimes be heard at dusk.

As well as Spain and Switzerland, my research took me in 1994 to Prague and on to Pardubice where British jockey, owner and trainer Charlie Mann exceeded all expectation by coming second in the Czech Grand National on It’s a Snip, and, later in 1995, came first. I must particularly thank Lord Patrick Beresford and Baroness Dory Friesen for masterminding this brilliant trip for Abercrombie and Kent, and thank Sir Derek Hodgson, Queeks Carleton-Paget and Liza Butler for being such beguiling travelling companions.

Many people wrote offering advice and anecdotes. Many numbers went down in my telephone book. Sadly I never followed them up, as in the end I had to get down and write the book.

If researching Appassionata was a joy, writing it was an absolute nightmare, because an orchestra consists of so many characters, and mine were continually getting out of control, particularly in their behaviour. In fact Paul Hughes, Ian Pillow and Linn Rothstein, who most heroically read through the manuscript for mistakes, said they had never come across an orchestra who behaved quite so badly as my Rutminster Symphony Orchestra. Nor in fact had I. The high jinks and bad behaviour in the book are totally invented and I would stress that Appassionata is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to any living person or organization is wholly unintentional and purely coincidental.

I never got to Bogota, where the first chapters are set, but Annie Senior and Peter Gibbs-Kennet gave me graphic descriptions and I was much indebted to both the Lonely Planet Guide to Colombia and The Fruit Palace, a stunning travel book by Charles Nicholl.

Nor would the book have probably been completed if Sharon Young of British Airways hadn’t tracked down a folder of early notes I’d left at Glasgow Airport.

I am truly sorry if I’ve left people out, but if I’d listed everyone who’d helped me, these acknowledgements would be longer than the book.

While writing Appassionata, I was gently followed to Prague and Switzerland and all over England by a BBC2 crew from Bookmark, headed by Basil Comely. Occasionally I found it difficult to get to grips with brass players’ love lives or seduction techniques in conductors’ dressing-rooms with a BBC crew breathing down my neck, but otherwise they couldn’t have been more tactful, kind and fun to work with.

My publishers, Paul Scherer, Mark Barty-King, Patrick Janson-Smith of Transworld, as usual, have been impeccable, constantly encouraging and reassuringly rock solid at a time of book trade turbulence. I have also had wonderful editorial help from the glorious Diane Pearson and from Broo Doherty, who grew cross-eyed as she ploughed through 1403 pages of manuscript, crammed with musical references. She was, however, so charming and so enthusiastic about the book that I accepted (nearly) all the changes she suggested.

I am also eternally lucky in having the best, most delightfully insouciant agent in London, Desmond Elliott and his assistant Nathan Mayatt, who spent so much time photostatting and despatching.

For the first time, the huge manuscript was typed on computers. The real heroines of Appassionata are therefore my friends: Annette Xuereb-Brennan, Anna Gibbs-Kennet and Pippa Moores, who completed the job on new machines in an amazing five weeks. They worked long into the night, deciphering my deplorable handwriting, punctuating, correcting spelling and pointing out howlers. I cannot express sufficient gratitude to them nor to Ann Mills, my equally heroic cleaner, who somehow cleared up the mess while picking her way delicately through rising tower blocks of manuscript until the house looked rather like Hong Kong.

Sadly, my dear friend and PA, Jane Watts, who supervised so much of the photostatting and collation of the book, and who had given me so much love and support over the past six years, left in November. With huge luck, her place was soon taken by Pippa Moores, who arrived to oversee the move into computers, and stayed to become my new assistant.

My family, comme toujours, were staunchness personified. Leo, Felix and Emily hardly saw me for eighteen months, but gave endless cheer and comfort. So did my dogs Barbara and Hero, and four cats, Agnes, Sewage, Rattle and Tilson-Thomas, who provided sweet, silent companionship and protection in the gazebo, even at the dead of night.

Dear gallant Barbara (Gertrude the mongrel in my last four books) seemed determined to cling on to life if only to see me safely into port. She died a few days after I finished writing, leaving the world unbearably the poorer.

Finally, I would like to thank musicians everywhere for the joy they bring, and to beg the public, the Government and the local authorities to give them the support and funding they so desperately need, because a twenty-first century without orchestras would be very bleak indeed.

THE CAST

CANON AIRLIE

Non-executive director of the Rutminster Symphony Orchestra (RSO), a silly old fossil, constantly