Allegro con brio

The following day Penny came back into the house, having been out to discuss the damage to the rose-bed with the gardener. She paused as she entered the hall, hearing the sounds coming from the music room. She recognised the first movement of Grieg's Piano concerto, but never before had she heard it being played with such – well 'fury' was the only word to describe it. A comment Scott had made once when she was visiting the Tracy family came back to her 'You can always tell what mood Virgil is in from the way he plays.' Well, judging from this, he was absolutely livid. She hesitated with her hand on the door-knob.

"Er, m'lady,"

She turned as she heard Parker's voice, and indicated the music room with a nod of her head. "Parker? Do you know what is wrong with our guest?"

Parker hesitated, "Er, hy think there 'as been some problem with the Lady Hamanda."

The music was just building to a crescendo as she slipped in. Virgil sat at the piano, his face as black as a thundercloud, pounding at the keys. As the first movement came to a close, Penny moved forward. "Bravo! Virgil darling, that was breathtaking. But do, please, have some consideration for the poor piano – it's a good deal older than you are."

Virgil looked up at her. "She's gone, Penny."

"Who's gone?" though she knew exactly who he meant.

"Amanda. I went to call her this morning and she's left – gone back to her own home."

"And you're surprised?"

"What?"

Penny hadn't thought Virgil's scowl could get any deeper, but it did. She put her hands on her hips. "Honestly, you Tracy men! I can see why Tin Tin gets so exasperated with you all. You fly all these wonderful machines, you rescue people from the brink of death, but when it comes to other people's feelings, you just don't have a clue, do you? Amanda's spent the last couple of weeks keeping you amused, and yesterday, after a perfectly lovely day out, you throw a tantrum on the way home for no reason, nearly wreck her car, then storm off into the house without even saying 'good-bye' and now you're surprised she's had enough of you?"

"I had a very good reason yesterday!" protested Virgil.

"Yes, dear boy, I know that and so do you, but what does Amanda see? Some spoilt rich man's kid throwing a wobbler because just for once he can't have what he wants?"

Virgil opened his mouth to reply, then closed it again. He let out a deep breath. "I blew it, didn't I?"

"Yes, you blew it – big-time, as you Americans say."

He turned to her, despair on his face. "What can I do, Penny?"

"Well, you can start by apologising."

"OK, I'm sorry."
"Not to me, idiot." She raised her eyes heavenwards "Men!" Then she turned to Virgil again. "Hang on, I've got her number somewhere. You can use the 'phone in the library, it'll be more private."

That night, as Virgil lay in bed, he thought back over the day's events. When he had rung Amanda he had got an answering machine, and it didn't feel right apologising to that, so at Penny's suggestion he had ordered some flowers. (The note had said 'Forgive me – PLEASE!!! – Poet') but as yet he had not had any response. He wondered if Amanda was still mad at him.

That night, in his dreams, he found himself again in familiar surroundings. He tossed and turned in his sleep, knowing what was going to happen, but unable to stop it. Again he stood in a rubble strewn street, with smoke from various fires drifting overhead. Again he felt the tremor beneath his feet and watched as the wall in the distance began to topple over. But this time the figure standing under that wall, oblivious to the danger, was not his brother Scott, but Amanda. He tried to run towards her but he couldn't move his leg. He looked down to see that it was pinned under one of the lintel stones from Stonehenge. He would need to calculate how much thrust was required in order to move it. His hands reached for the throttle controls of Thunderbird 2 – and suddenly he was sitting up in bed, drenched in sweat and breathing hard. He leaned back against the bed-head, pushing the damp hair back off his forehead, trying to slow his breathing and steady his nerves. He shook his head, trying to sort out the vivid dream images – what the heck did all that mean?

Virgil looked at his watch – just after 2 a.m. – that would make it mid-afternoon at home. His hand hesitated over the call button, then dropped. Scott could add up just as well as he could, and would want to know why his younger brother was calling home in the middle of the English night. Virgil was aware that the main reason he had been packed off to Penny's was because his father had found out that Scott had been spending nights sleeping in a chair in Virgil's room because of his brother's nightmares. It had worried Virgil too: as well as being aware he was not there on rescues to watch Scott's back, he also knew there was more risk of mistakes if Scott was tired when he went out on a mission.

He rubbed his temples, realising he was too keyed up now to try to get back to sleep. He would have liked to go downstairs and play the piano, but the music room was under Penny's bedroom, and he didn't want to risk waking her: Also he was aware that there might be burglar alarms on the house – something the Tracys didn't have to worry about on their island home. Well, there was one last resort: He leaned over to the bedside table and picked up the sketch pad and pencils and began to draw. Soon he was absorbed in his work.

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