Appassionata

said in a low voice.

‘George Hungerford’s henchmen,’ answered Viking.

‘I think so, too.’

‘George Hungerford seems very able,’ said Sonny pompously.

‘More like Cain, if you ask me,’ said Viking.

Abby was screwing up courage to ask Viking to show her the cottage by the lake when Mrs Standish rushed up.

‘Such fun to be a woman conductor, you did fritefly well.’

‘Why, thank you.’

‘My husband’s tonight’s sponsor.’

‘Oh, wow!’ Abby remembered George’s brief. ‘That’s so good of him, we’re so grateful.’

‘I just wanted to know,’ Mrs Standish went pinker than her dress, as she turned to Viking, ‘how you musician chappies address a female maestro?’

‘We call her “mattress”,’ said Viking idly, then seeing Abby’s lips tighten, he added softly, ‘because we’re all dying to lie on top of her.’

Abby tried and failed to look affronted.

‘I’m afraid my chariot of fire’s grounded’ went on Viking, ‘but I’ll walk you back to the Old Bell if you like.’ He ran a finger down Abby’s arm, setting her heart hammering.

‘I’ll give you a lift, Abby,’ said Jason proprietorially. ‘We can discuss things over a spot of dinner.’

Miserably remembering Hugo’s warning about getting involved with a member of the orchestra and George’s insistence that she chatted up sponsors, Abby accepted Jason’s invitation.

Popping into the Ladies on her way out she noticed someone had already scribbled joyfully on the walls: MR NUGENT ROLLS OK.

She could have wept, and even more so as Jason held open the door of his red Ferrari for her.

‘I’m definitely going to sponsor that Messiah. Who wrote it by the way?’

Nor did George Hungerford seem very impressed when she told him she had found a sponsor the following day.

‘Looks like a wide boy, better get it in writing.’

He then announced he had axed Mahler’s Symphony of a Thousand at the end of next season because it was too expensive.

‘That’s defeatist,’ said Abby furiously.

‘We can’t afford the extras.’

‘If the orchestra were up to full strength,’ said Abby shirtily, ‘we wouldn’t have to spend so much on extras.’

She took a deep breath. ‘The musicians must have more money, to stop the exodus. Barry’s threatening to leave because he can’t pay the mortgage on the barn and the Child Support Agency.

‘Clarissa’s also looking around. She’s a really good player,’ pleaded Abby. ‘She’s gone for an audition with the LSO this afternoon, because she’s having sleepless nights worrying about the school fees.’

George watched John Drummond stretching luxuriously in his out-tray.

‘I have absolutely no sympathy with people who send their kids to pooblic school,’ he said coldly.

‘That’s rich, revoltingly rich,’ exploded Abby, ‘from someone who’s just bought a property up the road, which makes Buckingham Palace look like a rabbit hutch.’

‘We are not talking about me,’ George glared at her. ‘I didn’t go to pooblic school, never did me any harm.’

‘I wouldn’t put it to the vote.’

‘Anyway, I’m not a musician.’

‘That’s quite obvious. How can you replace the Symphony of a Thousand with Bolero, and Tchaik Five.’

‘Because you’ve reduced the choir to such a state of disarray,’ snapped George, ‘that I don’t imagine they can possible re-assemble by next season. Anyway Tchaik Five has a beautiful solo for Viking.’

Abby raised her fists to heaven. ‘Oh, we mustn’t forget Viking.’

‘There are worse things — Viking pulls in the punters. This orchestra is an endangered species, we need more booms on seats, more recordings, more touring, more Gala evenings.’

This brought him to Mrs Parker’s birthday concert at the end of July which coincided with the centenary of the store.

‘A treat in store?’ asked Abby sarcastically.

‘No,’ replied George, booting Drummond up the backside for attacking the brushed suede. The concert, he went on, was to be held in the grounds of Rutminster Towers, Peggy Parker’s neo-Gothic excrescence above the town.

‘You better provide umbrellas and clothes pegs to hold down the music in case of wind and rain,’ taunted Abby.

‘Mrs Parker has chosen the music,’ said George heavily. ‘William Tell, Liszt’s First Piano Concerto, The Polovtsian Dances.’

‘Omigod, why doesn’t Mrs Parker sing ‘Lady in Red’ to crown a really intellectual evening.’

Abby was goading George; she could see a muscle going in his clenched jaw, his squared-off nails whitening as he clutched the oak table, but he said quite mildly, ‘In case the Arts Council regard the repertoire as insufficiently adventurous, we’re going to programme Sonny Parker’s Eternal Triangle Suite after the interval.’

‘Jesus!’

‘As the function will attract a lot of media attention,’ went on George quickly, ‘Mrs Parker would like you to be appropriately dressed. She will give an extra one hundred thousand pounds to the orchestra if,’ George didn’t quite meet Abby’s already furious eyes, ‘Parker and Parker are allowed to dress and restyle you from top to toe. New gown, new make-up, new hair-do, jewels. You’ll enjoy it.’

‘I will not!’

Seeing the fury on Abby’s face, George busied himself lining up paperweights and files on his desk.

‘And it’s bluddy good pooblicity for the orchestra. Parker’s are planning a massive promotion. All the nationals’ll cover it. The Telegraph are planning a huge feature on the new re-vamped Abigail.’

‘So you’ve already agreed,’ Abby was outraged.

‘With your permission,’ said George placatingly. ‘We need the money, Abby, you’re a beautiful yoong lady and we all know you’ll look chumpian.’

Abby, who’d been feeling her age in the last month, was so startled that, like Viking yesterday, George had actually paid her a compliment, that she rolled over and reluctantly agreed.

‘The messing-up of a maestro,’ she said gloomily.

The instant he got her consent, George reverted to normal belligerence, and said brusquely that that would be all.

‘Last night’s concert was better,’ he opened the door for her. ‘But the symphony was still too long. Miss Priddock’s been handling complaints from people who missed their last trains and buses all morning.’

In a rage Abby went back to the conductor’s room and leafing through the Eroica pencilled in a huge ‘No’ beside every repeat sign, which meant a lot of work for the library, who had to change all the parts before the evening.

During the Brahms Second Piano Concerto in the first half, Abby noticed Viking smiling at a pretty redhead in the audience, and pointing to his watch to suggest a rendez-vous after the concert. Abby then proceeded to knock a quarter of an hour off the Eroica giving heart attacks to several ancient bass players, and everyone got their last trains.

For an orchestra whose hobby was grumbling, the RSO were delighted with George Hungerford. Socially maladroit, he was deficient in small talk, but he asked the right questions and listened carefully to all the answers, aware that a grievance aired is usually a grievance forgotten. He also recognized individual players in the building