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The Tooth Tattoo(45)

By:Peter Lovesey


‘Better than working as a brickie. You wouldn’t want to damage your fingers.’

‘I would have earned more as a builder or a docker, it’s true. You’re right. I had to think of my hands.’

‘And obviously you got back to playing?’

‘I was always playing. Music is therapy. It nurtured my soul.’ An extraordinary stillness came over Ivan.

Mel understood why.

‘I kept my fiddle through the hard times and didn’t change it until I was offered the use of a Strad – practising as often as I could and I also took on some teaching and ensemble work. If you have a talent and you don’t neglect it, the opportunities come. I filled in with various ensembles across western Europe and eventually got to England and found an opening with the Bournemouth Symphony. A happy choice.’

‘Have you been back to Odessa?’

‘Once, with the quartet. I found it much changed, but the music is still of the highest quality. Do you know it?’

Mel shook his head. ‘I haven’t travelled much.’

‘From now on, you will.’

‘I still find it hard to believe you took me on.’

‘It wasn’t a snap decision. We heard a number of others.’

‘Will Douglas be looking for more engagements for us?’

‘Undoubtedly. He wanted to see if we got along together, if the chemistry was right.’

‘It wasn’t this morning.’

‘Don’t worry. We’ve come through worse. We can all be prima donnas on our day. It’s when we’re on tour and compelled to travel with each other and not speaking that things get difficult. But I suspect all quartets are like that. It’s not as if we’ve promised to love, honour and obey. We happen to be stuck with each other like four prisoners in a cell.’

Mel grinned. ‘I hadn’t thought of it like that.’

‘Now you know why I didn’t want us sharing a house.’

‘I guess respect is what we should aim for.’

‘Exactly.’

Becoming more confident, Mel asked, ‘You chose me for my musicianship alone, is that right? You didn’t ask about my temperament.’

‘Or if you’re an axe murderer?’ Ivan said without a flicker of amusement. ‘No, we judged you on your playing, first and last, and we expect the same consideration from you.’

‘You’ve got it.’

He added a sly postscript. ‘Of course it will be inconvenient if you’re picked up by the police.’

‘You’ll bail me out?’

This prompted a rare smile. ‘If we’re not in custody ourselves. You have no idea what we’re capable of.’

Not a topic to explore, Mel thought. Ivan had mellowed in the last few minutes, but there were limits. ‘Will Anthony come round, or does he want some kind of apology?’

‘It will be as if nothing happened. An apology is needed and it should come from him, but he won’t give one. We’ll begin again when Cat is restored to her boisterous best. I hope your health is reliable.’

‘Usually.’

‘I haven’t missed a rehearsal or a concert since the quartet was formed, so I feel I have a right to expect high standards of others.’

‘What’s your secret – vitamin pills?’ Mel asked, keen to lighten the mood again.

‘A balanced life. I still play chess, these days more on the internet than with a real person across the board, more’s the pity. Do you play?’

‘You wouldn’t find me much of a challenge.’

‘Plenty of musicians enjoy the game,’ Ivan said. ‘I expect you have a life outside music. I’m sure you do.’

Now that the focus switched to Mel, he became ill at ease himself. ‘Nothing to speak of.’

‘Women,’ Ivan threw in. ‘I’ve seen you eyeing up the students in short skirts. Have you dated any of them?’

With his chess-playing skill, Ivan had definitely taken the initiative. Mel felt as defensive as when Mrs. Carlyle was making barbed hints about what went on with her nubile daughter. ‘I can’t afford the time. I need hours of practice to keep up with you and the others.’

‘Hasn’t it occurred to you that we’re all practising like fury and not telling each other?’

Mel wasn’t sure if this was a heavy-handed attempt at humour. ‘That would be a comfort.’

But Ivan was serious as usual. ‘You may get the idea that because we played the repertoire many times before, we don’t need the preparation you do, but you’d be wrong. I practise several hours each evening, however loudly my landlord turns up the volume. For me, the ideal time would be early in the morning, but they’d treat that as an act of war and I can see their point of view. Anthony does nothing else but practise, as we know, and I’m pretty certain Cat will be bowing her cello at this minute, even in the throes of a headache.’