My first concert dates were scheduled in Cologne for October 9th through the 11th. One afternoon, I was going over the pieces I was to play there, making notes on the sheet music, when a phone call came from Danny.
“Hanni, I’m so glad I could get hold of you,” he said. “I’ve got some good news for you. A production company has been trying to contact you. They finally got in touch with Dad’s agent because they couldn’t find you in New York. The agent told Dad and Dad asked me to handle it. They want to use one of your songs in a movie they have in development. They already have your co-writer, Suzy Wright’s permission and need yours as soon as possible if they are going to use the song.”
I needed a minute to let this sink in. “What else did they say? Did they say anything else about this movie or what they’re offering?”
“All I know about the movie is that it’s a love story about a dancer. The details of their offer are in the documents I’m sending you. I did sneak a look and it seems to me like a pretty good deal.”
“OK, then. Send them to me by Special Delivery and I’ll sign them and send them back to the producers right away. It’s so good to hear your voice. I didn’t realize until now how much I miss you, little brother.”
“There’s something else, Hanni.” His voice suddenly changed tone. “Are you where you can talk privately?”
“Yes. I’m alone for the time being. In about a half hour, everyone will begin arriving home, though. What is it?”
“You never told John that you were marrying Tony, did you?”
“No,” I admitted. “I phoned him and left a message that I had decided to go on tour, but I didn’t tell him I was getting married. I didn’t want to leave that on a message machine. After that, everything just got so busy and I forgot to phone him again and he never phoned me back, so I forgot about it.” This was a lie, of course. As my mother suspected, I was deeply hurt because I believed John no longer loved or wanted me and I was going to bury my pain by proving to him and to myself that I could live without him.
The silence at the other end of the line told me that Danny didn’t believe me, either. “Hanni, John came out to Mother and Dad’s a couple of Sundays ago. He said that he tried to phone you, but your phone was disconnected. He then tried a couple of your friends and all they knew was that you were going on tour and that you’d be back maybe next summer. Didn’t you tell any of them you were getting married?”
“No. I didn’t spend much time with anyone after Tony and I got engaged, so I never got around to it. Debbie and John met only once or twice, so he wouldn’t have had her address or phone number.”
“Dad told me what happened. John was so upset that he couldn’t find you and worried about where you’d gotten to, he was almost out of his mind. Dad and Mother had to tell him that you had gotten married. Dad said that he looked as if he’d been stabbed. He and Mother wanted to console him, but they didn’t know what they could possibly say. When he left, they noticed he sat a long time in his car pulling himself together before he finally drove off. If you think they were pissed with you when you married Tony, they are even more so now. That’s why Dad asked me to take care of this business with your song. He and Mother don’t want to speak to you. A few days later, John came to my office at Paramount. Yes, I have a job there now as a set designer. Have to pay the rent somehow. My paintings just haven’t been bringing in enough. Anyway, he had a letter he asked me to get to you. I wanted to tell you that I’m putting it in with the other papers. That way, you’ll know it’s there and can keep Tony or anyone else from seeing it. Please, Hanni, answer it. The poor guy still loves you. You owe him at least that much. Just put it into another envelope and address that to me. I promise I’ll get it to him.”
When I hung up the phone, I felt nauseous and dizzy. I made my way up to Tony’s and my room to lie down. When I passed the dresser and caught a glimpse of my reflection in the mirror, I quickly turned away. I honestly couldn’t stand to even look at myself then. As I lay down on the bed, the realization of how stupid l I’d been hit me full force. I wept tears of regret until there were no more tears to weep. Drained and exhausted, I couldn’t think of anything I could do at this point to change what had happened between us, but at the very least I was going to answer John’s letter when it came, tell him how much I still loved him.
Soon, I heard Vivian coming home from work. “Hannah, are you home?” she called. I jumped up and hurriedly washed my face with cold water, ran a brush through my hair and went downstairs. “You’ve been crying,” she said, alarmed. “Are you all right, dear?”
“Yes. I’ve just been thinking of my family and making myself homesick. I’m fine, really.”
“Oh well, a nice cup of tea will set you right.” Gotta love the English, I thought. No matter the magnitude of the problem, a cup of tea is just the solution. I chuckled in spite of myself.
I stayed close to home for the next couple of days, waiting for the documents and John’s letter. When the packet finally arrived, I frantically rushed upstairs to the bedroom, opened it and dumped the contents onto the bed. Out tumbled a sealed envelope with ‘To Hannah’ on it in John’s distinctive handwriting. There was no mistaking the round letters with the elaborate loops on the capital letters. Seeing it made my heart spasm. Afraid to open the letter for fear of what it might say, I carefully hid it in the bedroom closet. I then took the documents down to the kitchen table, where I carefully read them through, then signed them. Danny was right. They were offering me a good deal – a very fair percentage in royalties. I decided not to tell Tony about this, not for any particular reason. Perhaps it was just instinct. I included my bank information and asked that any payments be directly deposited there. My monthly statements would help me keep track of what I was getting.
Quickly, before anyone was likely to come home, I took the documents to the post office and sent them special delivery to the production company. When I returned home, I noticed there was about an hour before anyone was due back. Now was the time to face the music, so to speak. I retrieved the letter from John and opened it.
September 29, 1978
Dear Hannah,
I assume that by now, Danny has told you about my visit to your parents. I didn’t know what else to do when you disappeared and I couldn’t locate you.
It never occurred to me that you would take my wanting to wait a little longer before marrying as somehow proof that I no longer love you. I’m so sorry if I hurt you, if you feel that I drove you away from me.
What I’ll never understand though, is how it was so easy for you to throw away all we had together for over five years and rush off to marry someone you hardly know.
There is nothing left for me to do now but get on with my life the best I can. If you’re really happy with this man, I’ll not stand in your way. It will be a long, long time before I ever forget you. I wish nothing but the best for you. Remember this.
Love, John
I knew John well enough to sense the full extent of the pain and disappointment in his words. It emanated from the page. I decided to wait until the next day to answer to give myself enough time to find the right words, if I could. I hid the letter again and put on a brave face until then.
I spent all the next day composing letters to John and Danny. I first wrote and told Danny that when I returned to the States, I wanted to try and mend things with Mother and Dad. Maybe it was too late to turn the clock back with John, but I didn’t want to lose my family too. I asked Danny for any thoughts he had on that. I also told him that I wasn’t going to make excuses for myself to John, only admit I was wrong and ask his forgiveness. I made sure to tell Danny I loved him and appreciated all he was doing for me.
The letter to John was, as one can imagine, much harder to write. I told him that yes, I did feel that he was brushing me off that he was through with me, but that I realized now how rash and stupid I had been. I also said that I still loved him with my whole heart and I hoped he would find it in his
heart someday to forgive me. As I sealed the envelope and put it in with the letter to Danny, I prayed John would get some consolation out of it, for what it was worth.
The bicycle ride to the post office and back cleared my head some. By the time I arrived back home, I felt somewhat better knowing I had at least made my feelings known to John. For the time remaining before we left for Cologne, the first stop on the tour, I immersed myself in my music, as it had always been my solace. I focused solely on it and the tour and did what I always did – bury my feelings so I wouldn’t have to deal with them.
13
Tony and I arrived in Cologne the first week of October, three days before the actual concert, so we’d have time to test the set-up and for me to rehearse once or twice with the orchestra, the WDR Rundfunkorchester Koln. They were a pops orchestra, so the program consisted of show tunes and other light fare. Afterward, we were supposed to go on to Salzburg, but Tony failed to secure the date. Apparently, he overestimated their willingness to pay what he was asking. He waited too long to try to negotiate and was told another artist had been booked. Since we had ten days now until the next date, in Klagenfurt, I took time out to visit Cologne Cathedral. I really wanted to see the shrine there which holds the relics of the Three Kings, referred to in the Christmas Carol I Saw Three Ships. It has huge twin spires made of openwork, which seemed to stretch forever into the sky. As I stretched my neck looking up at them, I wondered if the Cathedral could be seen from space, like the Great Wall of China.
Even though I now had no concert in Salzburg, I insisted on going there anyway on our way to Klagenfurt and visiting Mozart’s birthplace and residence. I don’t remember too much about Klagenfurt, except that I played the concert at the University of Klagenfurt and gave a tutorial to some of the graduate students in the Music Department. I had studied some German in high school and at Performing Arts, so I was able to converse with them, but still needed an interpreter for the tutorial.
At the next stop, Geneva, I played at Victoria Hall as a guest of Orchestre de la Suisse Romande. I’d always liked this orchestra, especially when Ernst Ansermet was the conductor, and owned some half dozen of their recordings. Here, the program included Brahms’ first piano concerto. It was a piece I enjoyed playing. My hands moved easily over the keys. The audience was appreciative and for the first time in months, I felt confident and happy, I actually had a brief time in which I wasn’t consumed by guilt, sadness and regret.
The next city was Athens. Again, Tony had made a mess of things. We discovered on our arrival that he forgot to confirm our hotel reservation and we had to scramble to obtain a room at another hotel some distance away. Then, the venue Tony had booked for me turned out to be a second-rate nightclub. I hardly knew what I could play in such a place. Hurriedly, we put together some well-known songs from American movies which thankfully, the audience seemed to like. To my amusement, some of them, after a few drinks, and quite a few broken plates, wanted to sing along with me as I played.
Before we left New York, I borrowed from the library some Greek language tapes to try to learn some, but I should have made Tony study them too, because the Greeks are rather chauvinistic and will deal only with a man. Luckily, the nightclub owner knew some English because Tony never bothered to learn any Greek, German or any other language.
After this virtual disaster of a concert, I thought we’d at least sightsee and soak up some of the amazing history and culture. History and culture weren’t all we soaked up though, because it rained the entire time we were there. Still, we slogged through it, almost slipping on the steep stairs leading up to the Acropolis. At the Plaka, the old section of the city, now mostly a tourist shopping mart, Tony and I bought gifts for his family to give them for Christmas. He asked me what we should get a gift for Debbie. I told him that I believed that she would love anything he chose for her. I figured that they were of a type and surely he would know her taste better. I didn’t much care for the tacky touristy things on offer there, so I waited until we went back to the hotel and I asked the desk clerk, Dimitri, if he knew any good art, jewelry and book shops. He named several, and while Tony slept in the next morning, I left early and did a little shopping on my own.
I got Danny a small marble statue of the god Hermes. I also got several vases for myself, hand painted with scenes from mythology. I got one for Laurie that I was certain she would love. It depicted nymphs and satyrs chasing around a green wood. As I was walking down the street to the next shop I wanted to visit, I remembered that it was Thanksgiving Day back home. I wondered what my family was doing. I imagined them sitting down to dinner, my father saying the blessing, carving the turkey. My parents still weren’t speaking to me, but I was determined to be optimistic about someday mending things with them. I also thought of John, and wondered whom he was with for the holiday. I hoped he was at least with friends and not spending the holiday alone.
The Greeks are a very religious people and almost every jeweler in Greece sells a large selection of jeweled crosses. These range from modest to elaborate to ridiculously gaudy. I knew my mother would love one of the more modest ones, so I chose one with red stones for her and another with blue stones for myself. At a bookshop, I spotted a book of plays by Aristophanes in Greek and English on facing pages. I thought a book of comedies to be an apt gift for my father, a comedic actor. Next to the Aristophanes, there was a similar tome of Euripides’ plays. I toyed a moment with the idea of getting it for John. I replaced it on the shelf thinking, ‘Why bother? He’ll never speak to me again.’ I quickly snatched it up again. ‘If I don’t get to give this to John, I’ll just keep it myself,’ I thought.
“Vier hundert und zwanzig drachmas, bitte,” said the clerk as I placed my purchases on the counter. That was not the first time a Greek shopkeeper or waiter addressed me in German. I guess I’m one of those people who wear their ethnic heritage on their faces. In my case, Swedish, but I suppose that’s close enough.
“Jawohl.” I chuckled a little as I counted out the bills. “Danke.”
“Danke schon, Fraulein.” He smiled broadly at me. “Auf wiedersehen.”
The next day, the rain cleared up just in time for Tony and me to leave for Florence, the last stop of the tour. The stress of constant performing, aggravated by Tony’s mishandling of things was beginning to wear me out. To his credit, Tony became much more attentive to me during the tour. I suspected this was due largely to his not having his “mates” around plus he wanted to be sure that nothing happened that would interfere with my performing.
I played two performances at the Teatro Verdi, as a guest artist with the Tuscany Symphony Orchestra. Afterward, I asked one of the cellists, Carlo, to recommend some interesting places to visit in Florence. One place he mentioned was the Museum of Musical Instruments at the Luigi Cherubini Music Conservatory.
I was amazed by the array of instruments on display at the Museum. They had every type imaginable, from all over the world, some dating back to the Middle Ages. I bought the book about the collection that the Museum published for further study. A fascination with early music really took hold of me now, though it would be years yet before much of anything would come of it.
On December 10th, Tony and I returned to London. After a few days’ rest, we joined his family in Christmas preparations. The decorations were already up by then, but Vivian was glad to have me back to help her with shopping and cooking. We needed to make enough mince pies to feed everyone who would be coming around to visit during the Christmas season. I found the mince very odd tasting at first. I’d never eaten sweetened meat before, but eventually I grew to appreciate the flavor.
Tony and Vivian told me about how Tony and his brothers anxiously awaited the annual visit from Father Christmas. I had to laugh at the idea of Tony one year leaving Father Christmas a tall glass of whiskey instead of the usual small glass of sherry in the hopes that it would score him extra points and perhaps an extra gift. On the day before Christmas Eve, we fought the crowds to
look at the lights on Regent Street and heard carolers making the rounds. We went to the Midnight Church Services. Tony was fidgety and it was clear that he rarely attended church and was going with us only because his mother insisted that we all go as a family. I liked the Anglican service as it was similar to the Catholic. The hymns, the prayers, all reminded me of the Christmas Mass I attended every year growing up.
On Christmas morning we opened gifts, just like we did at home. I was feeling quite homesick, but the steady stream of visitors which began soon after breakfast helped to keep me occupied. Everything came to a screeching halt that afternoon when the Queen’s annual Christmas Speech came on the “telly.” We probably had a dozen people in the house then, but you could hear a pin drop. I don’t remember now what Her Majesty talked about, but I got the feeling that what mattered more than the topic was that everyone came together as Britons much as we Americans have a national moment when the President gives an especially stirring speech, for example.
The next day was Boxing Day. In Tony’s family, it was the custom for everyone to select clothing and toys to put into a box to donate to the church for distribution to the poor people in the community. Vivian would add some non-perishable food to this and the box then was taken to the church. I selected a few items of clothing and costume jewelry to contribute. I rather liked this idea and decided to continue the custom even after Tony and I returned to the States.
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