Warrender 13: On Wings of Song

by Mary Burchell

  *But—does she like the idea?'

  'Of course she does. Though naturally I should have to get myself better known—^put myself on the map, so to speak. We all agreed about that. It would be vital that I established myself to some extent in the public eye without, of course, aspiring to her standard. There's quite an art in being a successful assisting artist, Lucille says, and I see exactly what she means.'

  'Ye-es,' agreed Caroline, trying not to sound too doubtful—and failing. 'When you say you would have to establish yourself to some extent in the public eye, what do you mean exactly? It isn't easy.'

  'Oh, there are ways and ways, if you know the ropes,' he assured her. 'It was Lucille herself, bless her, who came up with a splendid idea. There's going to be a very big voice contest in about six months' times. Big prizes—or at any rate a very big first prize—and wide TV coverage. You wouldn't know about it, I expect, but '

  'I might. Who's promoting it?' asked Caroline, and her voice had suddenly gone thin and ^prehensive as a premonitory chill crept over her.

  'Something called the Carruthers Trust. Have you ever heard of it?'

  'Yes,' said Caroline slowly. 'I've heard of it.' And she shivered slightly, as though someone had walked over the grave of her hopes.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  During the next few months Caroline's hfe changed radically. And, inevitably^ Caroline changed too.

  For most of her growing-up years she had lived with a keen awareness that she owed her home and most of her general wellbeing to her aimt; and as she was a naturally sensitive and appreciative girl the feeling of indebtedness was a constant factor, which sometimes weighed heavily on her spirits.

  To do Aunt Hilda justice, it had never been her intention to underline the obligation, for, in her somewhat limited way, she was a kind woman. But, with a touch of perhaps understandable complacency, she was herself virtuously aware of how much Caroline owed to her, and she assimied that Caroline would naturally be aware of it too. Which Caroline was.

  Had there been no one else involved in the family set-up Aunt Hilda might well have gone to the other extreme and spoiled her niece. But by the time Caroline came along the yoimg household god was already Jeremy, and to him Caroline willingly paid affectionate homage as a matter of course. She had never sought the limelight, and neither of the two people with whom she shared her family life had ever thought of turning it on her. Her role was a supporting one, and she willingly accepted it.

  Now, quite suddenly, all that was changed. Because of the extraordinary discovery of her vocal talent, and the even more extraordinary interest and generosity of Mrs Van Kroll, she was encouraged—almost commanded—to develop as a personality in her own right. It was expected of her, in fact, that in the not far distant future she would take the centre of the stage and justify the hopes of some very important people.

  Even then her devotion to Jeremy might have hindered her from applying unstinted energy and enthusiasm to her own cause. But Jeremy had gone after false gods (or, to be more precise, after a false goddess) and there was now no room for Caroline in his life. At almost the same moment. Fate—^with some assistance from Mrs Van Kroll—had pointed out a completely new path, and Caroline proceeded to follow it with all the single-minded determination so far imsuspected by her or anyone else.

  This determination first showed itself in the energy with which she set about finding someone to take over half of her office work. She was prepared for this to be difficult, knowing how high her employer's standards were, but almost immediately good fortune and good judgment combined to bring Dinah Gale into her life. Dinah possessed no Ph.D. and only a couple of O-levels. But her basic English was excellent, her spelling impeccable, her capacity for hard work quite phenomenal, and her willingness to learn a delight to any hard-pressed employer or colleague.

  * She's exactly what we need,' stated Caroline, with a confidence bom of her new attitude to life.

  no ON WINGS OF SONG

  *If you say so,' replied Kennedy Marshall. * You're the boss now in that department.'

  In fact, so rapidly did Dinah fulfil the highest expectations that within the two weeks she had been given, Caroline was able to follow Sir Oscar's instructions and report for work at the Opera Studio of his choice.

  As he had predicted, she was at first quite out of her depth in certain aspects of her studies. In others—^particularly with regard to the sheer beauty and management of her voice—she was ahead of most of her fellow students. Fortunately she was a quick learner and a devoted worker, so that she soon felt pretty confident that within measurable time she would be able to make good any deficiencies in her musical background.

  Her private lessons with Sir Oscar at first proved to be a mixture of terror and a sort of bewildered delight. Initially she was too much in awe of him to do herself justice. But at the third lesson he said,

  'When you volunteered to sing for me without any preparation you did much better than you're doing now. Why was that?'

  'I was thinking only of helping Jeremy,' she replied without hesitation. 'I wasn't thinking of impressing you on my own account, and I wasn't afraid.'

  'I see. Well, stop thinking of impressing me now. I am in any case very difficult to impress. Think of the composer and how best you can serve him and his work. Have you ever considered that?'

  Caroline shook her head slowly, but she looked intrigued.

  'That is the basis of any worthwhile performance, whether by singer, player, conductor or producer. You serve the work and the composer with all your heart and soul, trying to follow in the path which he, in his genius, has laid down. It requires a mixture of intelligence, diligence—^and love. Now try that again.'

  So she tried it again. And when he gave a slight nod of approval she felt happy in a way she had never been happy before, vowing to herself that any career, great or small, which she managed to achieve should be based on Sir Oscar's advice.

  At home there was little comment on the change in her pattern of life. So far as her aunt— or indeed Jeremy—^was concerned she continued to *go to work' at more or less the same time. And if her times of return were more erratic than had previously been the case Aunt Hilda at any rate chose to regard this as part of Caroline's 'odd new ways'.

  There were aspects of this new life which Caroline longed to discuss with Jeremy, and in other days that would have been the natural thing to do. But now he was exclusively concerned with his own affairs, reserved and even a little melancholy since Lucille had returned to France. Undoubtedly he had his plans, as Caroline had hers, but, where once they would have compared them, there was an intangible barrier now which was impossible to breach.

  What did provoke home comment (and that mostly from Aunt Hilda) was that Caroline now went out constantly in the evening, either to concerts or operatic performances.

  'You're very lucky with free tickets these days,'

  her aunt observed. 'But I suppose if there are unsold seats it looks better to have almost anyone fill them.'

  'That's one element,' Caroline conceded, accepting with some effort this lowly assessment of her worth to the musical world. 'But it's partly that Mr Marshall decided he would like to try me on outside work, in order to develop my knowledge and judgment about works and performers, you know.'

  Aunt Hilda didn't know, and said so.

  'Do you mean to tell me he actually sends out a slip of a girl like you on your own, to make judgments and decisions that might affect his own agency?'

  'I don't always go on my own. We more often go together, so that he can advise me and—^well, instruct me.'

  For the time Aunt Hilda contented herself with saying, 'Teh, tch,' to indicate how poorly she regarded such a state of affairs. But a few evenings later, when Jeremy came in looking more animated and excited than he had for weeks, she suddenly said,

  'Did you know that when Caroline goes jimketing to all those evening performances her employer goes with her, on the pretext of instructing her in so
me way?'

  'Instructing her?' Jeremy looked both amused and taken aback. 'In what does he instruct you, for heaven's sake, Caroline? Mother makes it sound quite questionable!'

  'It's nothing of the kind!' Caroline retorted hotly. 'I'm still part of the firm, and he wants me to extend my usefulness by having some

  experience in assessing works and performers.'

  'Sounds reasonable enough. Mother.' Jeremy grinned. 'And anyway, you're going to have to be more careful what you say about one of the best agents in the business. He's just demonstrated his own good judgment by taking on your son, as a matter of fact.'

  'About time too,' replied his mother grudgingly, while Caroline cried excitedly,

  'Jerry, you can't mean it? At last?'

  'Didn't you know anything about it?' Her cousin gave her a curious glance.

  'Of course not. I'd have told you if I had.'

  'I thought maybe you'd put him up to it, though he said not when I asked him. He did say someone had spoken for me. I suppose it might have been Warrender. Anyway, Marshall contacted me, saying he wanted to hear m.e for himself.'

  'And you never told us?' His mother was reproachful.

  'I couldn't. Mother. Not after so many false starts and crushed hopes. I had to have something positive before saying anything to you or Caroline.'

  'Anyway, it doesn't matter now,' his cousin broke in eagerly. 'Tell us what happened when he did hear you.'

  'He was impressed, I'd glad to say. Said he would like to represent me, and proposed to send me to audition for one or two of the smaller opera houses in Germany. Not leading roles, of course, but invaluable experience. The sort of thing Sir Oscar suggested, now I come to think of it.'

  'Small roles in minor opera houses?' Aimt Hilda made a disparaging grimace. 'Then he

  doesn't appreciate you properly. I always said he was no good.' (She had done nothing of the sort, of course, though perhaps she had implied it.)

  'Jerry, I'm so glad for you!' Caroline hugged him impulsively, with none of the inhibitions which had spoiled much of their happy relationship recently, and he responded with equal fervour.

  'I have to leave for Germany at the weekend,' he went on exultantly. *One of the places needs an immediate replacement for Arlecchino in "Pagliacci", a role I know inside out, fortimately, and also Jacquino in "Fidelio", which will need some intensive revision. Then later I'm to go and audition for two or three other places within quite a small radius—^for next season. They're all small,' he insisted again. 'But it's a beginning. If I can only get my foot in '

  *And you'll have done it without that Lucille Duparc,' added his mother, with whom the French singer was out of favour for having failed to promote Jeremy's fortunes more speedily. 'She was going to do so much for you, but she didn't come up with much in the end, did she?'

  'These are early ^ days yet,' replied Jeremy stiffly. 'Anyway, she and I are pinning a lot of hopes to the Carruthers Trust Contest.'

  Caroline bit her lip, and then said as casually as she could, 'You still plan to go in for that, then?'

  'Why, of course! It's the biggest thing in our— in my—plans.'

  'I thought perhaps this German development might cut across the dates,' she said quickly. And in her heart she knew that had been her immediate hope. For the risk that she and Jeremy

  might find themselves pitted against each other in the same important contest lingered at the back of her mind like a perpetual threat.

  Later she wished she had seized the opportunity to make her own plans known, for the longer she left her intention undisclosed, the greater would be his indignation and shock when he learned the truth.

  But it might not come to that, of course. All kinds of things might intervene, in her affairs as well as his, and perhaps the wisest thing was not to meet trouble halfway.

  So she congratulated Jeremy once more, and then hurried off to the Festival Hall, where she was to join Kennedy Marshall for a Warrender concert, at which the soloist was to be the famous but ageing tenor, Lindley Harding.

  He was already in the hall when she arrived and, as she slipped into her seat beside him, she said quietly but fervently, 'Thank you for helping Jeremy to his first engagement.'

  'Oh, you know about that already?' He smiled slightly.

  'Yes. He came home just as I was leaving. And I can't tell you how happy it's made him—and me.'

  'Well, he's good. Otherwise of course I wouldn't have dreamed of putting him forward. There's little doubt about their taking him for those two roles. They're in a tight spot and won't fimd anyone better at a moment's notice. It should be the real break for him at last.'

  'But you took quite a chance on him, not having heard him yourself until today.' She glanced at him curiously. 'Why did you do that?'

  *Why do you think?' he replied.

  But before Caroline could hazard any sort of guess, applause broke out as Sir Oscar made his way to the conductor's desk.

  Caroline had of course heard Warrender conduct many times before, but tonight she heard and saw him from an entirely different standpoint. She thought of what he had said about 'serving the composer and the work' and realised that, commanding though his air might be when he was in charge of his orchestra, his total rapport with the music meant that he was indeed serving the composer with a lack of personal conceit rare in conductors.

  'It isn't real arrogance,' she said half to herself and half to her companion as the first pause came. 'Only the authority of a man who knows.^

  'Not bad judgment,' replied Kennedy Marshall, and laughed softly. Then he glanced down at the progranmie and asked, 'Have you heard Lindley Harding before?'

  'No.' Caroline shook her head. 'But he was the great Otello of his time, wasn't he?'

  'He was indeed. A tremendous stage artist, but equally fine in oratorio, as you'll hear tonight. I see he's singing, "Waft her, angels" from Handel's "Jephtha", and I imagine he'll be thinking of his own daughter as he sings it. She's up there in the stage box with her husband.'

  Caroline glanced up at the couple who both leaned forward as Lindley Harding made his way on to the platform. Silver-haired and very erect, though no longer young, he was a striking, indefinably elegant figure as he made his entrance

  to the sort of applause accorded only to the cream of popular favourites.

  He started the ineffably beautiful recitative with a clarity of diction which projected every word without effort to the back of the hall, and all at once, he was no longer a handsome elderly man in a faultless evening suit. He had become an almost biblical figure, and in every word, musical nuance and facial expression he was the distraught father who had vowed a sacrifice to a jealous God, and now realised that it was his own child who had to be killed.

  There was not a sound from the audience, not even a suppressed cough. Everything and everyone seemed to wait on the drama of the occasion until, with a soft, almost universal sigh, they relaxed for the heartrending air in which the sorrowing father appeals to the angels to take his child gently.

  Caroline was not ashamed of the tears which came into her eyes. But she was slightly taken aback to find that two of them had spilled down her cheeks. Then she realised that her employer had taken her hand and was holding it firmly, so that she felt oddly like a child who was being comforted.

  'I'm sorry,' she whispered, under cover of the applause which succeeded the one long moment of stunned silence at the end of the aria.

  'No need to apologise,' he replied. 'I'd have wept myself if I were the weeping type. And I wouldn't have liked you half so well if you'd kept a stiff upper lip. Do you want to go round afterwards and meet the old boy?'

  'Oh, please! Do you really mean that?'

  'Certainly. And the two in the stage box, if you like. He's a very fine tenor in his own right.'

  'Tell me about them,' said Caroline, her eyes shining with interest. 'I noticed that she too wiped her eyes.'

  'No doubt she did. Her father was the great figure in he
r life for years. There was a very close and emotional relationship between him and her—^until the moment when a splendid young tenor rival came along to challenge his preeminence.'

  'What happened then?' Caroline asked eagerly.

  'She married him. That's the good-looking chap with her in the box now.'

  'She married him?—^her father's rival? I call that pretty mean!'

  'Even if it was a love match, Caroline?* He spoke gravely, but she noticed that those keen grey eyes were twinkling with something like amusement at her reactions.

  'Oh—^Do you think it was?'

  'I'm not in their confidence. But to the outside world I'm boimd to say they show every sign of being very happy together.'

  'And her father?—did he mind dreadfully, do you suppose?'

  'I imagine he disliked the position very much indeed at first.' Kennedy Marshall appeared to give the problem his serious consideration. 'And she couldn't have been very happy about it either, poor girl. It's not easy, I imagine, to be torn between two highly possessive males. Tenors, at that,' he added reflectively.

  She was not aware that he studied her grave and rather troubled face with an air of amused

  indulgence, iintil he said lightly, 'I don't think more tears are in order, Caroline. I understand that peace was made and that they're a very happy family group by now.'

  *Are you making all this up?' She shot him a suspicious glance.

  ^Certainly not. All pretty well authenticated stage gossip.'

  'But, Mr Marshall '

  *Do you think,' he interrupted with sudden irritation, 'that you could bring yourself to call me Ken? At least when we're out together. There's an unacceptably Victorian flavour about "Mr Marshall" at this stage of our relationship. It makes me feel a brother under the skin to Mr Rochester.'

  'Oh, but Mr Rochester was a splendid hero!' she declared.

  'Thank you. Your point is taken.'

  'I didn't mean that disparagingly,' she declared with a laugh. 'And I'll call you Ken, if you like.' Then to her extreme annoyance she felt herself colouring, as though in keeping with the Victorian reference, and she was glad to see the leader of the orchestra returning to the platform.