Appassionata

Still in his tails, he had only had time to remove his white tie and gardenia. He was burning hot, yet wringing with sweat, as he took Helen in his arms.

‘My beautiful child, I ’ave longed for this moment,’ he murmured in English, too fast for the Czechs to understand, then sotto voce to Clive, ‘Get rid of everybody at once.’

‘You will come on to our party, won’t you, Maestro?’ pleaded Donna Elvira.

‘I bake birthday cake for you,’ whispered Donna Anna, pocketing his discarded gardenia.

‘I must have shower, I will see you later,’ said Rannaldini.

Zerlina said nothing, but her mascara was streaked with tears as Clive frogmarched her without any gentleness down the passage.

The moment they had gone Rannaldini locked the door.

‘That was a most exciting p-p-erformance,’ stammered Helen.

Rannaldini smiled evilly.

‘You wait till later, my angel.’

Helen blushed. ‘It was far more erotic without nudity.’

‘I leesten to you,’ said Rannaldini gravely.

‘Oh, if I was some small help,’ Helen was in heaven. ‘And the way you control them all with this tiny stick.’ She picked up his baton, ‘It’s a magic wand.’

‘I weesh I could transform thees room into a bower of bliss,’ said Rannaldini fretfully.

Nothing could have been less seductive than the fluorescent lighting, the ugly brown carpet, the repro desk and hard chair, the fitted cupboards, the pedal dustbin, the fridge and shower behind a dingy beige plastic curtain.

‘You should see my room in New York,’ Rannaldini hastily kicked a purple garter under the desk.

‘But enduring art, not surroundings, are what matters,’ said Helen earnestly. ‘And thank you so much for this wonderful dress, Roberto, and the flowers, and the caviar and champagne and these beautiful diamonds. But it’s not my birthday.’

‘Don’t be silly.’ Cutting short her thanks, Rannaldini lifted the diamonds and slowly kissed her collar bone, caressing it with his tongue until she was squirming with desire.

‘I must be the one person in the world who didn’t know it was your birthday,’ she whispered. ‘The only thing I brought you was a first edition of Malise’s book, but it’s at the hotel.’

‘That ees the present I want second most in the world,’ said a delighted Rannaldini. ‘Now I feel Malise geeve us his blessing.’ As he gently fingered her ribs, the ball of his thumb was pressing against the underside of her breast.

‘The present I want you to geeve me most ees yourself.’

But, as he moved into the attack, Helen leapt away.

‘We can’t, people know we’re in here, you ought to change, you’ll catch your death.’

Rannaldini deliberated. Many women were desperately turned on by a burning, sweating apres-concert body. Helen was probably too fastidious. The elm is a patient tree. Rannaldini got a bottle of white out of the fridge and filled two glasses.

‘Will you wait while I have a shower?’

Embarrassingly aware, a few seconds later, of Rannaldini naked behind the shower curtain, Helen said she would put his roses in water.

‘They droop already, unlike me,’ Rannaldini shouted over the gush of water. ‘I am so pleased you are here. Kiri and Placido say the same. Everyone pours in and kisses you, saying how wonderful it was, then they drift away.’

‘None of those young women wanted to drift away this evening.’ Helen was unable to keep the edge out of her voice. ‘I am sure everyone felt you should have played the Don. That boy was much too young for the part.’

‘The libretto describe Giovanni as a licentious young nobleman,’ protested Rannaldini. ‘I am neither young nor noble.’

‘Any moment you are going to be ennobled, Sir Roberto,’ said Helen archly, then as Rannaldini emerged from the shower, his sleek still brown body as smooth as butterscotch, a big white towel slung around his hips, she caught her breath.

‘And after Malise,’ she faltered, ‘you seem very, very young to me.’

‘That is kind.’ Rannaldini turned back to the basin to clean his teeth.

‘As I was saying, people drift away after a concert theenking you have more important people to see, so you go back to your hotel, hyped up, totally alone, and you ring home and say, “The applause went on for fifteen minutes,” and they say, “Yeah, yeah, I’ve got this ghastly problem with the deesh washer.”’

‘I’d never bother, I mean, genius should never be bothered with problems like that,’ said Helen aghast, totally forgetting how often she moaned to Rupert when he was show-jumping in the old days.

Rannaldini turned, flashing beautiful clean teeth at her.

‘Come here my darling, stop playing games.’

‘Don’t you want to go to your birthday party?’

‘Certainly not.’ There would be far too many recently pleasured members of the cast wanting repeat feels.

Sliding into a splendid red silk Turnbull and Asser dressing gown, he picked up the bottle and glasses and sang in a rich baritone:

‘You lay your hands in mine, dear

Softly you’ll whisper, yes

Tis not so far to go, dear

Your heart is mine, confess.’

‘You sing beautifully,’ sighed Helen, taking his hand.

‘Come, let me show you Mozart’s theatre.’

‘Where is everyone?’ quavered Helen as he led her up and down steps along pitch-black passages.

‘Gone home,’ said Rannaldini, who’d tipped the night porter more than he earned in a year. ‘Wait ’ere, don’t move.’ He let go of her hand.

Helen was petrified, the darkness was strangling her. Then she heard footsteps.

‘Rannaldini?’

There was no answer.

‘Don’t play games with me.’

Suddenly she saw a flicker ahead, oh thank God, Rannaldini was lighting candles. Stumbling forward she gave a piercing shriek as she found herself looking up into the livid face of the Commendatore’s horse.

‘Over here. You must not be so jumpy.’ Rannaldini drew her over some cables to where candles were flickering merrily on either side of a vast carved bed hung with turquoise-and-white striped curtains and foaming with white linen sheets and laced pillows.

‘Who’s this for?’

‘Giovanni chase Zerlina round eet in Act One. Let’s have some moonlight.’ Rannaldini tugged down the moon from Act Two so it shone dimly into the four-poster.

But as he drew her towards the bed, Helen began to tremble violently.

‘Come.’ Rannaldini stooped to pull her dress over her head. ‘It is time for the butterfly to emerge from her chrysalis.’

Helen burst into tears; it was the same trick she had used to halt the Rake’s progress of Rupert twenty years ago. Rannaldini, too, was all contrition.

‘What ees eet, my darling?’

‘Malise was just so like the Commendatore. Tonight’s our wedding-anniversary, I feel he was trying to warn me off. All those young women drooling over you this evening. Marcus told me you were dreadfully promiscuous.’

‘A good boy to protect his mother,’ said Rannaldini smoothly, vowing to sabotage Marcus’s piano career at the first opportunity.