In The Fast Lane Read online

  Chapter Twenty One

  Chiswick

  Theo knew that saying goodbye would be difficult, especially with Georgie, so early the next morning he left a note attached to a rose for Vivi and a comic with some sweets for the children.

  He crept out of his sleeping house at 6am just as the taxi arrived to take him to Heathrow.

  Tender family feelings made him almost regret the departure, but what lay ahead was very exciting: a chance to expand his repertoire and experience new audiences.

  Chapter Twenty Two

  Moscow

  Theo’s mother, Baba, was there as usual to meet him at the airport. Her tall, thin figure stood out, adorned in a long red dress with masses of beads under a black cape.

  Theo was her only son and she lived for his music. His father was an English writer who left Russia to pursue his career just three years after Theo’s birth, which meant that Baba brought Theo up in Moscow where he attended a musical school. He left Russia at fifteen to join the Royal Academy of Music in London where he flourished and was awarded a much-needed scholarship for several years.

  Baba drove slowly through the sodden streets excitedly firing question after question at her son. “Tell me about your concerts? Will I be able to see you in Vienna?”

  “Yes, of course! We must get Sergei to arrange it. I’ve got some lovely pictures of Georgie and Jago. You need to come over to England and see them. Now Georgie’s getting older she’s becoming more and more enchanting. I can’t believe she’s already seven. I do miss her when I’m away,” said Theo sadly.

  “Perhaps I could come back with you when you next go back to London?” suggested Baba. “Your Papa, Gerald, told me so much about England before he left, and his love for the country was so strong he never felt the desire to return back to me in Russia.”

  Theo was always amazed that his mother could talk about his father’s departure so nonchalantly.

  As Theo entered her small flat in the suburbs of Moscow, he saw a letter on the hall table.

  See you at the Conservatoire for rehearsal 9am tomorrow.

  Welcome back!

  Sergei.

  It gave him a jolt to be so quickly thrust into work, yet a surge of excitement also made Theo want to get to a piano immediately, but of course there wasn’t one in the small flat.

  He fought the urge to dash to the Conservatoire but he had to stay with Baba for a while.

  “How is your arthritis?” Theo asked, as they settled on the familiar sofa.

  “Oh, my hands are getting painful and swollen, especially in the cold, and I do miss teaching but the standing affected my back too much,” Baba replied.

  “I’m so sorry, you must miss it all. But à propos… can I talk to you about money?” He handed her a fat envelope. “This is to replace the ballet classes, so you can be comfortable and eat properly.”

  Theo put an arm round Baba and hugged her tenderly.

  “Thank you, dear boy, you are so good to me.” She squeezed his arm. “Come, let’s have some supper, I made your favourite soup.” Baba pointed to a large steaming saucepan.

  They spent the evening looking at photos of the grandchildren and pictures drawn by Georgie for Gran Baba, which made Theo’s heart ache. How he missed them!

  Theo realised the time and made his way to his old bedroom door.

  “I must get some sleep because the rehearsal begins at 9pm. Please wake me at 7am.”

  They hugged and Theo kissed her on both cheeks.

  “It’s so good to see you,” said Baba, squeezing his arm.

  *

  The next morning, Theo rushed to the Conservatoire, arriving as the orchestra was tuning up. Sergei embraced him as he neared the piano.

  “Welcome back. We’ve all missed you.”

  They held each other’s gaze for a split second, then Theo sat down, ready to begin the Mozart piano concerto No. 22. He felt exhilarated to be back with his fellow musicians.

  The conductor, Felix Murel, came onto the podium, baton raised. In total harmony, the glorious opening bars prepared Theo for what lay ahead. The morning involved a lot of readjustments and re-runs, which the conductor insisted on perfecting.

  The lunch break bubbled with gossip and jokes, especially from one of the trombone players whose risqué sense of humour made Theo laugh endlessly. The afternoon was a serious plod through Tchaikovsky’s Piano Concerto No. 2, so well-known that it had to be interpreted, according to Murel, “As if it was just composed.”

  Murel was a great admirer of Theo’s soaring cadences, which added new dimensions to the first movement.

  Chapter Twenty Three

  Chiswick

  Serena arrived at Vivi’s by lunchtime on Saturday to find a rather gloomy house. Georgie and Jago were still getting over the fact that Theo had gone without saying goodbye.

  Her own children were far more cheerful, though. Alicia, Freddie and Benjie stumped through the front door in high spirits. A few minutes later, gloom was forgotten, as Georgie caught magic bubbles blown by Freddie through a long pipe, while Jago sat on the grass pulling laces through discarded trainers.

  “So great to see you,” said Vivi to Serena, albeit a little sadly. “Come on, let’s have a drink.” As they sat down with two glasses of Pimms, she sighed and said, “I wonder what Theo’s doing right now. I miss him.”

  Serena put her arms round Vivi and hugged her sister fondly.

  “Come on, let’s cheer you up by starting the party list. Oh gosh, do you remember that party we had when awful Lady Sincombe gave Ma instructions on how to look gorgeous in a Jacuzzi? And that dreadful man, Duncan, who admired her so and said, ‘I’ll always be waiting for you however old you are’. He had bad breath and wore those tatty open sandals,” recalled Serena.

  “Leslie was the worst though, in tweed trousers and sexy silk shirts. As for Bee bringing her new lover Fred from the local garage, that really put a spanner in the works, didn’t it? No pun intended!” exclaimed Vivi. “And, of course, Sam, such a sweet man; gay and gorgeous. The best hairdresser she ever had!”

  “Freddie smeared ice cream all over my face!” said Georgie disturbing the reminiscing.

  “It’s only fun,” he said laughing.

  “No it’s not!” Georgie yelled before stomping away.

  “Let’s have a game of hide and seek,” called Alicia, already halfway up a tree.

  “Where’s Lang today?” Vivi enquired.

  “I don’t know. He’s terribly screwed up about work. I’ve never seen him so fraught.” Serena sounded anxious.

  “Do you think all’s well there? He never used to be so tense,” said Vivi.

  “Well, I’ve been wondering too. He’s so on edge. You’re the professional, do you think I should ask him?” Serena was unusually serious.

  “I think you should.” Vivi began jotting down names for the party. “Who else ought we to invite?”

  “Don’t forget to ask Father Conway, her Sunday friend in Madeira.”

  “Oh yes! He absolutely must come!” said Vivi.

  “Let’s have it at my place,” suggested Serena. “We’ll have a marquee, and each contribute one of her favourite dishes, however eccentric it is.”

  “Have you asked the Ramseys?” wondered Vivi. “He’s the eye surgeon who Ma quite fancied until she could see properly, and Sheena, Dad’s loyal secretary. Oh, and Rose, her cousin, who I adored when I was nine. I wanted to marry her. She might be dead by now like half the other suggestions, mind you!”

  “Shall we have a brass band or a chamber group?” enquired Serena.

  “I think violin, flute and piano,” replied Vivi. “She’ll love hearing them tinkle away. Also, I think evening will be best. All the kids will be in bed and she loves candlelight. Toby’s got a wine shop, so we can get the booze reduced.”

  Both sisters were having a good time organising the do until Serena glanced at her watch.

  “Vivi my love, I’ve got to dash. I’m meeting Lang in town.
We’re off to a rather grand dinner party. Come on kids,” she called. “What a lovely afternoon. Give me a call anytime you’re feeling lonely.”

  She kissed Vivi before she gathered her children, and they all headed out of the front door, chatting merrily.

  Vivi forced a smile and waved as they left, feeling as if they had taken all the cheer with them.

  Chapter Twenty Four

  Moscow

  After the morning rehearsal finished, Sergei and Theo arrived at their favourite café. Theo was feeling exhilarated after three hours perfecting the first movement.

  “It’s going to be an exciting few weeks. Replacing Aranov will give you a wonderful opportunity to capture a new audience in St Petersburg.” Sergei was bubbling with enthusiasm. “The Tchaikovsky is coming on brilliantly. What about Scriabin for the second half?”

  Theo leaned over, arms spread wide open across the table. “Your enthusiasm is contagious. Yes, I rehearsed the Scriabin this morning. What a challenge! By the way, could you get a ticket for Baba? She’d so love to hear me play. Poor thing, her arthritis is much worse. I must take her to England soon to see the children. Also, I’m going to ask Vivi if she’d like to stay in St Petersburg for two nights.”

  “That can easily be arranged, it is my job, after all.” Sergei smiled warmly at Theo.

  After laughing and some ribaldry, they walked back to the rehearsal room, feeling very relaxed.

  “As it’s Sunday tomorrow, shall we go to the Kandinsky exhibition? I’ve got free passes.”

  “If it’s not too early. I may go to church with Baba first. Shall we meet at noon?”

  The afternoon was slightly spoilt by the orchestra leader breaking a violin string, which took some time to replace. Theo was irritated by the delay and impatiently walked to another studio next door where he practised some difficult cadences, then started on the vigorous third movement. Before he knew it, an hour had passed.

  “Murel’s waiting for you.” Sergei put a hand gently on Theo’s shoulder.

  “I’ll be there in five minutes,” he said abruptly, continuing on the piano.

  “The violinist apologises for interrupting your solo, and Murel told him off for not having a spare with him. Everyone is now ready to continue.”

  “Yes, yes, I know but it’s stopped the flow. You don’t understand, you’re not an artist,” replied Theo, angrily standing up to face Sergei, who still wore the same calm expression. He was used to dealing with temperamental artists. Theo stomped off to the orchestra next door.

  Later, Theo was sitting on the balcony after an excellent baked fish with Baba, when his mobile broke the silence.

  “Hello, Vivi darling,” he murmured, as her gentle voice purred down the phone.

  “Georgie’s missing you terribly. Can she talk to you?” “Yes, I miss her too.”

  “Hello Daddy,” Georgie said. “I’ve got a photo of you by my pillow so I can talk to you before I go to sleep. What are you doing?”

  Georgie’s voice gave Theo a pang.

  “I’m sitting on Granny Baba’s balcony watching the sun set behind the houses and—”

  “Can we come and see you play the piano sometime? Home is half empty without you,” Georgie pleaded.

  “I—I—,” Theo stumbled over his reply. He wanted to open his arms and hug her. “How is Jago?” he asked instead.

  “He tried to eat some shoe laces when we were having a picnic the other day. I’ll give him a hug from you, shall I? He looks for you under the bed.”

  “Pass me to Mummy please,” said Theo.

  “Yes Theo?” Vivi said.

  “Vivi, what about coming to St Petersburg for my big concert? Could the children go to Serena for two days?”

  “Oh, that would be fantastic!” Vivi caught sight of Georgie’s tears. “I’ll call you later, about 10.00pm.”

  Vivi rang off, then wrapped her arms softly round Georgie. “He’ll be home soon, darling. I know! Why don’t we cheer you up by making some pancakes?”

  “Oh Miss Vivi, what a mess!” cried Bella, as she came in ten minutes later laden with shopping, almost slipping on a well-squashed pancake that had fallen on the floor.

  “Would you like one Bella?” called Georgie as she tossed another one in the air. It landed on Bella’s head.

  “Certainly not!” she cried, laughingly trying to retrieve it.

  Chapter Twenty Five

  Kensington

  Serena spent Sunday contacting several of her mum’s friends who were delighted and excited to be reunited with Beady. Many appeared ancient, some deaf, and one or two sounded tipsy at midday! She decided to ring Beady in Madeira to ask if there were any special people she’d like to see.

  She reeled off lots of names. “How many can I have? And what food are you doing?”

  “Listen, we’ll talk about that when you arrive. Anyway, most of it is a surprise for you.” Beady’s bossiness subsided as she sighed huskily, then inhaled on her Balkan Sobranie. “It’ll be an evening do. Will your older friends manage it?”

  “Of course they will. If not, I’ll drag them there.” Beady laughed.

  “I must go now, Ma. I’ve got to put Benjie to bed.”

  She found Lang lying on the floor, telling Freddie about the first aeroplane ever invented.

  “Can you make one for me, Daddy?”

  “Yes, let’s get some paper,” said Lang.

  “I’ve just had a talk with Ma. It’s going to be quite an endurance test with her staying. I must order the marquee tomorrow. We’ll need chairs and trestle tables, won’t we?” burbled Serena.

  “God, it’s going to cost a bundle. Can’t we do without the marquee?” Lang said anxiously.

  “Not really, darling. Besides, it’s much cheaper than some awful anonymous banqueting room at a hotel. Will you arrange the wine with Toby? Shall we have Dom Perignon to start with?”

  “I think that’s going too far! We really can’t afford such luxury.” Lang was getting annoyed at Serena’s extravagance.

  “We’ve only got a few days before she arrives. What are we going to give her as a birthday present?” asked Serena.

  “Oh, give her 200 of those ghastly, smelly fags of hers, or one more cerise, pearled handbag to go with her vast collection,” Lang snapped, irritated by the imminent invasion of his mother-in-law.

  Chapter Twenty Six

  Aylesbury

  “Cheryl, look at those maple leaves, they’ve got strange rings on the back. I hope it’s not the virus that Prince Charles warned me about,” Jonty said anxiously.

  “Why not ring up his environmental people?” suggested Cheryl.

  “I don’t want to bother them.”

  “Come on, this could be serious and affect a lot of other trees.”

  Jonty walked them down towards the plantation looking for further diseased leaves.

  “It seems to be only those three maples.” He turned to see Cheryl looking at a different group further along.

  “Oh dear, these don’t look too good either, JJ,” she said, holding two oddly-mottled leaves in her hand. “Do ring the office and ask their advice. That’s what Prince Charles suggested, didn’t he? Don’t be shy about asking, love.”

  Cheryl put an arm round Jonty’s dejected shoulders.

  “Hello, can I speak to Jim Davy in Prince Charles’ office for the environment?” Jonty asked, two minutes later.

  “I’ll put you through, sir.”

  “Hello, it’s Jonty here. We met last week with Prince Charles. I’ve got a problem with several of my maple trees. The leaves have a ring like pattern on their underside. Does this suggest a virus infection?”

  Jim Davy sighed. “Ah yes, that’s quite a common virus called ‘ring mottle.’ Can’t be treated I’m afraid. They must be destroyed so none of the other trees get infected. It’s contagious.”

  Jonty was shocked. “What causes it in such young trees?”

  “No one knows. Maples are prone to about five different vi
ruses, but don’t worry, it’s bound to happen in a big forest like yours,” Jim Davy said, trying to reassure him.

  “That’s kind of you. It’ll be sad destroying them, but thanks for the advice. Give my regards to Prince Charles,” replied a subdued Jonty.

  “Let’s go up and tell old Jacob about the infection,” suggested Cheryl. “He’s got your interests at heart and his advice is worth listening to.”

  She drove up the windy hill to a small cottage in the derelict grounds of an old farm. Jonty got out and leaned on a gate looking down towards his plantations in the far distance.

  “It will certainly grow into an enormous forest,” he said proudly.

  “Hello, Mr Jonty.” Jacob’s wind-worn face suddenly grinned above his stooped shoulders. “I saw the car. What can I do for you?”

  “We’ve come with a worry I hope you’ll solve. Some of the maple saplings have got a virus called ‘ring mottle.’ I’ve spoken to Prince Charles’ office and they said the trees must be destroyed, which was a bit of a shock,” stammered Jonty.

  “Ah, that’s normal with such a big family of trees growing together. When I was working on a big estate in Scotland, dozens of oaks needed to come down. They’d grown so high they needed a tractor to pull them out,” said Jacob with his habitual grin. “Anyway, let’s get rid of them quick before it spreads. I’ll come down with you now.”

  Jacob slipped into his grimy wellies, hauled on a muddy waterproof and slammed his front door.

  “Can you drop me off at the farm?” asked Cheryl. “The children will be here soon, eager to get on their ponies.”

  Jacob grunted, “You do well for those kiddies.”

  Jonty called up a farm worker in the next field, told him to bring the tractor to the wood, and soon the first diseased maple had been yanked up. He could hardly bear to watch. It was like his own child being hurt.

  Chapter Twenty Seven

  Moscow

  Sergei handed over the tickets as Theo walked ahead into a blazing red-walled gallery full of Kandinsky’s work. They wandered through slowly, sharing different impressions about each picture. Theo disagreed with Sergei’s blind passion for the artist; it almost irritated him.