‘Mr. Hamada says when Tertis because of infirmity could no longer play to the standard he set for himself, he presented his precious viola to his pupil, Bernard Shore.’
‘I didn’t know that. How generous.’
This time Hamada didn’t wait for a translation of Mel’s response. He crossed the room to the wardrobe, opened the door and took a bulky object from the top shelf – an instrument case. He brought this to the middle of the room, placed it on the sofa and unzipped it. The case was modern, but the instrument inside was not. It was of viola length, at least the size of his own, but of lighter, thinly varnished wood, almost apricot in colour, obviously antique.
‘So is he a player?’ Mel asked Olga.
‘A collector. What do you think?’
‘It looks special.’
Hamada lifted out the viola and handed it to Mel.
The weight was lighter than his own fiddle.
Olga said, ‘He is inviting you to play the Bach piece again, using his instrument.’
Not unreasonable, Mel thought. If you own a fiddle, you want to hear it. Aside from that, he was curious to try it himself. He liked the feel. Now that it was in his hands he could tell it was a fraction longer than his own, but about the same weight. He ran his fingertips along the board. Using his own bow, he began the tuning process. Then he started playing another excerpt from the Chaconne.
The projecting power was a revelation, the depth and fullness of tone a joy. He knew at once that this was an experience to be savoured, so he continued moving through the daunting multiple stops of Bach’s composition for longer than he intended.
Hamada’s serious look had been supplanted by open-mouthed admiration. And when Mel finally lifted the bow away, Hamada clapped and said, ‘Bravo.’
His pulse racing from the experience, Mel did his best to appear calm. ‘Who is the maker?’
Olga asked the question, listened to the response, turned to Mel and didn’t give an answer. Instead she said, ‘If you would be so kind, he would love to hear you play some more. We both would.’
No hardship. Mel launched into Kreisler’s arrangement of a Tartini fugue written for piano and viola, yet possible to perform as a solo. He gave them the complete piece.
‘Now may I know the history of this instrument?’ he asked after finishing.
For the second time, Olga put the question to Hamada.
Mel listened keenly to the answer and wondered if he could believe his ears, or had confused the sounds.
Olga translated for him and confirmed the name of the maker. ‘It’s an Amati, from 1625.’
‘Christ Almighty – I thought it was special.’
Four generations of the Amati family of Cremona were making stringed instruments from at least 1560. Nicolò Amati was said to have taught the craft to Antonio Stradivari and Andrea Guarneri. Amati violas were particularly prized because of their rarity compared with violins. Mel had heard of a 1613 Amati selling at auction for half a million pounds.
With reverence he replaced the instrument in its case. ‘That was an experience I wouldn’t have missed.’
Olga’s eyes shone with amusement. ‘Twenty minutes ago you were ready to walk out of here.’
‘I had no idea what was coming. Any musician worthy of the name would kill to play a fiddle of that quality.’
‘I hope not. We don’t want bloodshed.’
‘Mr. Hamada must be a very rich man as well as a connoisseur.’
‘He’s both.’
‘May I ask what his business is?’
‘Shipping, mainly, but he has other companies as well. Your glass is empty.’
‘My head is spinning and it isn’t the champagne.’
Hamada took this as the cue to refill Mel’s glass. He started speaking to Olga and it lasted some time.
She turned to Mel. ‘He admires your playing. He says a great instrument needs to be played by a top musician. He arranged for you to come here because he wanted to hear the Amati played by an expert. Now he is certain you must have it.’
‘Have it?’
‘On permanent loan.’
Mel felt the hairs straighten on his skin. ‘That’s incredible.’
He knew millionaire patrons occasionally presented precious instruments to musicians. This was how rising artists came to play some of the finest fiddles in existence. He’d never imagined such an opportunity would come his way.
‘How does Mr. Hamada know about me?’
‘He knew you joined the Staccati Quartet. They are respected throughout the world. They wouldn’t play with an inferior artist. The instrument is insured, of course, and so well known to connoisseurs that it could not be stolen and sold on for anything like its true value, but he will expect you to take great care of it.’