It was extraordinary how the other members of the quartet were transformed in the white heat of playing. Ivan – old sobersides – inhabited the soul of the composer and became spirited, playful, ecstatic even. Cat stopped being amusing and brought soulfulness from her cello capable of moving anyone to tears. The biggest change was in Anthony, who came alive in the rehearsal sessions, argued with passion for his interpretation and was usually right. Any quartet is only as good as its members and the fusion of their playing. This one was reaching heights rarely scaled.
They knew it of course.
During a break from rehearsal one morning, Mel said to Ivan, ‘This is more dynamic than anything I’ve experienced musically before, the way we all contribute ideas.’
‘It’s how we’ve always worked.’
‘So creative.’
‘Nothing is static in ensemble work. We learn from each other constantly.’
‘I’m learning in spades.’
‘It isn’t one-way. We’re responding to you.’
Mel blinked. ‘Really?’
‘I don’t say things I don’t mean. So you feel you are benefiting from the experience?’
‘Enormously, even though I still hardly know you.’
‘Me personally?’
‘The group. Anthony puzzles me the most. A sort of Jekyll and Hyde.’ He stopped, embarrassed at what he’d said. ‘No, that’s out of order. Do you know what I mean?’
‘Bipolar?’
‘I wouldn’t want to give it a label.’
‘Good – because we don’t think he’s bipolar. That’s about highs and lows, isn’t it? Manic-depressive stuff. He’s not particularly depressed.’
‘There’s a personality change when we start rehearsing.’
‘The music is paramount to Anthony. It dwarfs everything else. The rest of his life bores him. He can’t be bothered with it. Playing in the quartet is his only reality.’
‘Isn’t that dangerous?’
‘There are times when we have to remind him over the most mundane things like getting his hair cut or renewing his passport. He needs someone in his life to chivvy him along. But he’s not capable of entering into a relationship, so I don’t think he’ll find anyone.’
‘Not capable? He must have emotional needs.’
‘Outside music?’ Ivan shook his head. ‘I’m not aware of any. The emotion is all channelled into his playing. If his body tells him he requires food, he’ll eat. He doesn’t read or go to the cinema. When he wants sex, he’ll pay for it. All those things are functional, unconnected with intellectual pleasure which comes to him only when he picks up his violin.’
Having said he wasn’t giving a label to Anthony’s behaviour, Mel passed no comment. Privately he thought this sounded like some form of autism.
‘It must have been tough for him when Harry quit.’
‘Indescribably tough. We worried over him. He was close to suicide. Douglas got him some work with the Hallé which probably saved his life.’
When the session resumed, Mel watched Anthony’s eyes light up. Disturbing, really, to see how addictive music can be. They played a few bars of Schubert’s Rosamunde and Anthony halted the playing himself. ‘It’s become sentimental,’ he said. ‘We’re losing the truth of the piece. Can we try this section again from the beginning?’
‘Not until we agree what is wrong,’ Ivan said.
‘The tempo. We’ve never played it this way. Like treacle running off a spoon.’
‘Must be my fault,’ Mel said. ‘I’m making the difference.’
‘I’m not blaming anyone,’ Anthony said. ‘We can rectify this. Didn’t you notice, Cat?’
‘Sweetie, I was miles away, trying to remember if I sent my dad a birthday card.’
Anthony swung round to face her, all aggression. ‘How can you do that when we’re playing?’
‘All too easily. Haven’t you ever driven a car and thought, I’ve come this far and I can’t remember any of the traffic lights I passed and the turns I made and if I was watching my speed? One part of my brain is doing these things but I’m in another place. The worst is when it happens in a concert. I can see my bow moving and it isn’t my hand that’s guiding it, can’t be, but Jesus, it is. Shit a brick, I’m in Carnegie Hall, playing Beethoven. If it hasn’t happened to you, my chick, be grateful.’
Mel knew exactly what she’d described. He’d experienced the same nightmare more than once, although not with this group.
Anthony was lost for words.