Secret of the Song

by Cathie Hartigan

  ‘It’s the ink,’ Salvo said. ‘There’s not much I can do about that. When my uncle is here, the doors are kept open. but I don’t think we want an audience, do we? Besides, the wind will blow right in today. Now then,’ he said, clearing a bench of several pieces of paper, ‘sit down there and tell me what is going on. You’ve always been the one for me, Silvia, ever since I saw you sitting in your father’s wood store. You must know that.’

  ‘But I’m not that girl anymore,’ I said, shaking my head, ‘not since … not since everything happened.’

  Salvo stood up and began pacing up and down. Three steps in each direction. That was all the room he had between the presses. ‘But that was a long time ago,’ he said. ‘You can forget about it now and look to the future – with me.’ He knelt down and took my hand. ‘Now what’s all this about being busy?’

  I thought of the serene calm of the convent and the beautiful singing. I thought of my own little cell, its white austerity and the less demanding and quieter Lady I was answerable to there. ‘I’m to embroider a new altar cloth for the chapel.’

  Salvo laughed. ‘Why, that’s wonderful! I always said you were the cleverest needlewoman there ever was – except when my mother was in the room, of course. But—’ he hesitated and two little frown lines creased his forehead. ‘What makes you think you can’t do that if you marry me? Why, it will take you as long to do that as it will me to travel to Denmark and back. Then we can be happy together. See? See, Silvia?’

  I looked up. How handsome he was! My heart leapt with longing for him. But then he reached up to push away a tumbled lock of hair, and I was reminded by the fall of the fabric from his wrist of the lettuce cuffs worn by Fabrizio on his last night on earth. Was it possible for love to bring lasting happiness? I had not seen it.

  ‘You are very different too,’ I said. ‘You have been living another life. I can see that by your clothes, the dancing, and you must have been eating very well.’ I found a handkerchief and wiped my eyes. It was coming in out of the cold wind that had made them water, I was sure of it. ‘How do I know that you will come back?’

  He stopped pacing and looked at me. ‘Of course I’ll come back. Why wouldn’t I?’

  ‘You don’t know what will happen.’

  ‘None of us knows the future, Silvia. We can’t know it.’

  He was right, of course. I opened my mouth to speak, but as I did so, another thought entered my head and immediately struck me as a solution.

  ‘Oh,’ I said, excitement making me sit up straight. ‘I have a good idea! What if I come with you? If we were married, I could come. Then we wouldn’t have to be apart. And I’ve always wanted to see other countries, France, Denmark, even England.’ I imagined sailing away from Napoli on one of the tall ships down at the dock, leaving behind all my bad memories and worries about Don Carlo. I would fill my head with new places and new experiences, a whole new life. ‘Could I come with you? Could I?’

  What I wanted to hear was an answer as equally enthusiastic as my question, and I wanted him to say it straight away. Salvo certainly looked surprised and he did laugh, but it was an awkward laugh that turned into a cough.

  ‘Oh, I wish you could, dearest Silvia, but I don’t think that would be possible.’

  ‘Whyever not? If I was your wife.’

  ‘Because the invitations I’ve received are for a single man. One that does not have any special requirements.’

  ‘What do you mean? What special requirements do I need?’

  He looked embarrassed. ‘I’m not sure, Silvia. I’m not a woman, but I know there’d be times when I’d have to leave you alone. Musicians can be strange and impetuous, as we well know. Signor Marenzio often keeps very late hours and I have no idea what the habits of Northern people are. I’d be constantly worried about you.’

  Did I believe him? He sounded reasonable and had always been truthful with me. I remembered the pink-skinned Englishmen; they seemed civilised, but what did I know? I also remembered the long horrible silence when Salvo was away and couldn’t help sighing.

  ‘You will write to me this time, won’t you?’

  ‘Of course, I will, my darling, and I’m not going yet. We have weeks together. Why, we could go to Gesualdo. Your mother and father must agree before we can marry.’

  ‘No,’ I said, anxious at the mere thought of going to Gesualdo. ‘We can send word instead. I’m quite sure they will be happy for us.’

  ‘Is that a yes, then?’ Salvo said. There was a change in his voice. The soft laughter returned, like the twinkling in his eyes. ‘Do you trust me enough to marry me, Silvia Albana?’

  He held out his hand for me to take. Trust him. That was all I had to do.

  I don’t know how he could have such warm hands when mine had got so cold, and I also wondered how he managed to raise me to my feet and enfold me in his arms so easily. But there I was, and his kisses played melodies on my lips until I could resist him no more.

  ‘Yes,’ I said. ‘Oh, yes.’

  We stayed drinking in each other’s kisses for a long time. All anxiety melted away. Why had I ever doubted him?

  The noise of the lantern spluttering reminded us of the real world.

  ‘I must light another,’ said Salvo, ‘or we’ll be knocking everything over when it goes out. Stay there.’

  An upset would certainly be a catastrophe. All the tools I remembered from my father’s workshop lay higgledy-piggledy on trestle tables, and smaller tools for carving too. Pieces of wood of every sort and size were stacked up in corners, and on the walls were shelves of pots, jars and jugs of oils. Some of the labels I could make out and understand, like walnut, linseed and oak galls, but others were obliterated by thick black tears that had spilled down the outsides.

  Salvo had only taken two steps when the lantern went out and we were in darkness.

  ‘Damn,’ he said.

  I heard one more step and … a huge crash and tumbling of I don’t know what, but certainly glass was broken and metals jangled together.

  The bench I sat on shivered. Salvo’s curses were many times worse than before.

  ‘Are you all right?’ I said, peering into the black. ‘Are you hurt?’

  ‘No, I’m not hurt.’ I heard him sigh then. ‘But Heaven knows what we’ll find when I get the lantern lit. Now where’s my tinder box?’

  ‘Do take care.’ I said, but doubted he heard me over the crunch of glass under his boots. I swivelled round on the bench, following the sound of him as he slowly crossed the room. Gradually, my eyes accustomed to the dark. Grey moonlight seeped through the shutters but nothing was distinct in the gloom.

  ‘Ah,’ he said, ‘here it is.’

  After the familiar sound of the flint scraping, light flared across the room. I breathed out.

  ‘That’s better.’

  ‘Yes, much.’ Salvo laughed and snapped shut the door of the lantern. ‘Now, my darling, where were we?’

  ‘Don’t you want to see what’s got broken?’

  ‘Oh, I don’t think so, it can’t be anything important.’ He was holding the lantern so that the light didn’t reach that far. I couldn’t understand it.

  ‘Don’t you even want to make sure?’ I asked. ‘I can help you clear it up.’

  ‘No, no. Let’s not worry about it. Someone else will do it tomorrow.’

  There was a note in his voice that rang contrary to the Salvo I knew, and it seemed so strange to me that he didn’t care what had toppled over.

  ‘But surely,’ I persisted, ‘we may be able to save something from further harm? It’s always best to treat stained fabric straight away.’

  Salvo put the lantern down on a low stool next to the door. It was the most odd place, for by putting it there, only the dimmest of light was cast. I knew there was a hook up above and so did Salvo because he’d warned me to avoid it when we first entered.

  ‘If the ink has spilt, it’s far too late to do anything about it now. Don’t give it another thought,
Silvia. Come, let me kiss your delicious lips again.’

  He pulled me to my feet and kissed me with even more passion than previously. I thought his lips were very delicious too but for some reason, a voice in my head kept distracting me with a question.

  ‘Salvo,’ I said, reluctantly pushing myself away from him. ‘Can I ask you something?’

  ‘Of course,’ he said. ‘Does it have to be now though? I thought we were enjoying ourselves.’

  ‘We were. We are … I am, but—’

  ‘But? My dear, Silvia, what is there to but about?’

  He clasped me to his chest again and I had to push a little harder than the time before to free myself.

  ‘No,’ I said, firmly. ‘Don’t do this, Salvo. I’ve known you too long for this sort of deception. What is it that you don’t want me to see?’

  ‘What do you mean? There’s nothing … nothing at all.’ His laugh wasn’t a bit convincing. It was as bad as the note in his voice I didn’t like, the one that rang with the opposite of truth.

  ‘Show me then,’ I said. I tried not to let my voice tremble although my heart had begun to thump in my chest, and if someone had told me I had several spiders crawling over the back of my neck, I wouldn’t have been surprised. Why was he behaving so strangely? What was he hiding from me?

  The lamp shone directly on my face, but his was in shadow, and I could not see his expression. There was a horrible silence, and where his hands gripped my shoulders, I felt his strength.

  But then they slackened and he dropped his arms to his sides. ‘No,’ he said. ‘I won’t show you.’ To my surprise he sounded sad. ‘Silvia,’ he went on, ‘if we are to be married then one of the vows you will have to make is that you will obey me. Will you obey me now, if I ask you not to look?’

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  ‘My go,’ mouthed Mollie, as she poked my arm. I shook my head so she lifted one of the earphones away from my right ear and yelled: ‘You can do that when I’ve gone to bed!’

  ‘But I’m right in the middle … oh, all right then.’

  Time at the keyboard was precious. I hadn’t had to transcribe such complex music since being at college.

  When Mollie emailed Jon about the final song, he sent her the file straight away. She’d been admirably sly, suggesting that he shouldn’t mention the musical while I was around as it might upset me. Humph.

  Mollie sat at the keyboard and sang along to the accompaniments I’d already programmed in. I’d also recorded each part of the Gesualdo madrigal and both of us sang along with that. The madrigal sounded bizarre enough in its original state of two sopranos, alto, tenor and bass, but when I allocated the other three parts to the marimba and Mollie and I sang along with them, it cheered it up no end.

  Miss Price hit ecstasy on her happiness scale.

  ‘The headmistress wants a piece about the choir on the school website,’ she gushed, when I arrived for the dress rehearsal. ‘On the front page. With a photo.’

  ‘Great,’ I said. ‘They’ll love that.’

  ‘And …’ she lowered her voice, so the whole world didn’t have to hear, ‘Mrs Brown has been informed – repeat, informed – that she would not be conducting the choir when she returned.’

  ‘That’s a shame.’

  She batted an imaginary fly. ‘No, no it isn’t. It’s because we really want you to stay on.’

  ‘Oh?’

  ‘Please say you will. I know the children would be heartbroken if you left us.’

  ‘Well …’ What can you say to such emotional blackmail? Robert had got used to me being away for an extra hour and the kids were really great.

  ‘Besides,’ Miss Price’s brow knitted Fair Isle. ‘There’ll be nothing but ukuleles without you.’

  That sounded as good a reason as any to stay.

  Mollie insisted that she should host the Noteworthy dress rehearsal. If she was a member then she should have a turn. So, come the Sunday afternoon before the concert, we had tea and milkshakes instead of wine, and Mum made us cake. I wondered if I might find a blob of toffee icing on the cover of the Gesualdo afterwards. Perhaps things might have been different had we all been teetotal?

  ‘When are we actually going to sing the Gesualdo on the day?’ Sophie asked Jon. ‘Have you got a running order?’

  He fished about in his jacket pocket. ‘Here,’ he said, putting a piece of printed music on the table. I recognised it as the love duet straight away. ‘Oh, no, sorry. Not that.’ He turned it over to reveal a list in his chaotic handwriting. ‘This is it so far.’

  ‘What was that on the other side?’ said Robert.

  ‘Oh, nothing,’ Jon said, keeping his hand firmly on the paper. ‘Just something for work.’

  Mollie and I glanced at each other. We both knew what it was and so did Sophie. I’d had to let her into the secret. Otherwise, when it came to voting, we’d have been in the minority.

  Jon had given me a kiss when he arrived. A while ago, before Daniela, the Gesualdo and everything, he always did. It used to be a swift kiss, light, friendly and on the cheek. But today … I sighed and gave a little shiver. Today, his kiss had lingered a bit longer. Not massively longer, but enough for me to take in the deliciousness of him. If Jon were a cup of coffee he’d be a single estate espresso with a hint of chocolate, or perhaps cocoa. The French sort that wasn’t sugary.

  ‘Hello, Lisa? Are you receiving me?’

  He was looking straight at me and smiling. A happy smile with no strain about it.

  ‘Sorry, miles away.’

  ‘Can I come next time?’ he said. ‘It looked like a good place to be.’

  I’d forgotten how toes can curl with pleasure.

  ‘Yaaawn,’ Mollie said, and with a great deal of exaggeration, did so.

  We all shuffled about on our chairs and coughed, as if it was the interval between movements in a concert. Sophie looked at me sideways with a twinkle in her eyes.

  ‘Right then,’ said Jon. ‘I thought we’d start with the English things – Bennet, Orlando Gibbons … it’s a pity we haven’t got an Edward Gibbons madrigal really.’

  ‘Edward Gibbons?’ I said. ‘Who was he? A son?’

  ‘Brother,’ Jon said, ‘and choirmaster at Exeter.’

  ‘Really?’ I said. ‘Wow.’

  ‘Yes,’ said Jon. ‘It would have been nicely appropriate to have an Exeter composer in the concert.’

  ‘Let’s think about that for another time,’ I said. ‘What else have we got?’

  Jon read out the rest: ‘Wilbye, the Morley … oh, and the Byrd, of course, and then after the interval we can bring out the Italians – Banccieri and whatnot. Gesualdo second to last and then finish with Il Bianco Dolce Cigno. That’ll balance nicely if we sing The Silver Swan at the end of the first half.’

  I knew he would expect us to murmur our agreement as usual, so I nearly laughed at the way he jumped a little when Sophie said, cool as you like,‘Isn’t it a bit long?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘The programme. Isn’t it a bit too long?’

  ‘I wouldn’t have thought so.’ He frowned, then looked at me. ‘What do you think?’

  ‘It is a bit,’ I mused, as if I’d never thought about it before. ‘Perhaps we ought to take one or two out.’

  Mollie almost gave the game away. ‘It’s miles too long,’ she said. ‘Who wants to sit through a load of old songs they don’t understand?’

  Jon looked at the three of us and I crossed my fingers under the table. He might smell a rat.

  ‘Now now, Mollie,’ I said. ‘Don’t get carried away. Lots of people like madrigals – that’s why they’re coming.’ I turned to Jon. ‘But I do think that while we might be happy to sing madrigals all night, it’s a different experience for the audience. Shall we cut one or two?’

  He shrugged. ‘I wouldn’t mind listening to them all night either. Okay, let’s record everything on the list, have a listen, then decide what we don’t want. Mollie, are you ready?’
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  Mollie had absorbed the entire programme almost on first hearing. It didn’t bother her in the least that she wasn’t singing the top line, her usual haunt. The Italian madrigals took her a little more time, and the Gesualdo more time than the rest combined, but that was the same for all of us.

  Jon gave me another one of those kisses when we said goodbye.

  The hall of my flat is quite generous considering the type of block it is. There’s a cupboard for coats, another that houses the vacuum cleaner, light bulbs and my paltry collection of tools. Furniture-wise, I have a small chest of drawers, that’s all. But I’d had to move it right into the corner to make room for Mum’s walk-in suitcase and her shopping trolley – large enough to hold an aisle’s worth from Sainsbury’s.

  So the whole business of conducting farewells took place in rather cramped conditions, and having a mother on one side and a daughter on the other wasn’t exactly conducive to intimacy. Nevertheless, something happened between us when Jon kissed me. Definitely something and definitely delicious.

  ‘What?’ I said, when I turned round, having shut the door.

  ‘Nothing,’ they said, in unison.

  ‘Don’t even go there,’ I said.

  ‘Do you think everything’s going to be all right now?’ Mollie said, when I went in to say goodnight. In her faded pink pyjamas she looked much younger than the girl who had been singing with Noteworthy only hours beforehand.

  ‘I don’t see why not. You heard the recording. I like your voice better than Daniela’s. With us, that is. You match in better.’

  ‘I sound like you, that’s why.’

  ‘Yes, you do, although I was never a soprano, even at your age.’ I smoothed the hair away from her forehead and she didn’t complain.