Part One Hundred And Eighteen
On the Wednesday evening, George received a surprise in the form of a phone call from Neil. "George," He said when she answered. "It's Neil Grayling." "Oh, hello," She said, the smile of pleasure evident in her voice. "I got your number from Karen," He explained. "It occurred to me, that it probably wouldn't do either of us any harm to do a little practicing before Saturday's rehearsal." "Because we both know that my father will probably take the opportunity to make us perform the two love duets," She finished for him. "And judging by how unsuccessful they were last time, I happen to agree with you." "They weren't that bad," He tried to persuade her. "They were, they were bloody terrible, and mostly because of my clear inability to act." "So, shall I come to you, or you come to me?" "Do you want to come here?" George offered, after taking a quick look round to make sure the house was tidy. "Sure," Neil replied, feeling a sense of curiosity. Other people's houses had always held a certain fascination for him, their intricate details telling so much about a person's habits and lifestyle.
Before he arrived, George decided to do some warming up. She ran through her usual conglomeration of scales and arpeggios, and then sat down at the piano with the score. She turned to 'With Verdure Clad', because it was the only one of her solos she could play as well as sing. This aria had always been her favourite, the words and the melodies seeming to transport her away from wherever she happened to be. The windows were open, but she didn't care who heard her. Her voice soared gloriously through each cadence, blending perfectly with the spring evening air. When Neil drew his car to a stop in her driveway, he briefly reflected that this was clearly how the other half lived. As he walked up the steps to the front door, he became aware of her singing, accompanied by a fabulously tuned piano. It almost seemed a shame to stop her, but he wasn't about to be caught loitering in the street like some opportunistic vagrant.
When George came to the door, she was wearing a loose fitting cotton dress in pale blue, though it wasn't loose fitting enough to disguise her thinness. "That sounds more like the voice I know," He said when she opened the door. "Oh," She said with a nervous laugh. "I always forget that one's voice can carry far too far." "Well, it certainly sounds a lot better than it did the last time I saw you," He said, following her into the kitchen where she poured them each a glass of white wine. "I haven't smoked since Monday, so it bloody ought to," She said, handing him the glass and leading the way into the lounge. The score was open on the piano, and the breeze that crept in through the open window lightly fluttered the pages. "How long have you played?" Neil asked, taking note of the paintings and the generally expensive aura of the decor. "Since I was a child," She replied, sitting down on the sofa, and watching him as he walked to stand in front of the fireplace. "Is that the genuine article?" He asked, looking up at the Monet. "Of course it is," George said in offended dignity. "My father wouldn't have been seen dead with a copy anywhere in his possession." Neil laughed as he moved to sit down in the armchair. "So," George said, after taking a sip of her wine. "Have you given the go ahead to Karen's new idea?" "She told you about that, has she," He said with a wry smile. "Well, I was a little stunned to say the least, but Karen managed to talk me into putting it before my superiors." "She does have a way with words," George said fondly. "Yes," Neil said dryly. "So I'm beginning to realise. Nikki's got an interview on Monday." "Well, let's hope her interview's a lot more successful than my last rehearsal was." "What was that all about?" Neil asked, feeling that they were now getting to the root of the problem. "It's a bit complicated," George said evasively, heartily wishing she could have a cigarette. "I gathered that much," Neil said wryly. "John, is my ex-husband," She began, knowing just how insane this arrangement was going to sound. "Didn't look all that ex a week ago." "Before I begin to explain the current arrangement to you," She said, now taking a firm hold of the situation. "I need an assurance that you aren't still working behind the scenes for Ian Rochester." "That's to the point, I suppose," Neil replied, slightly flabbergasted by the turn of the conversation. "And you certainly have a long memory." "With the game that John, Jo Mills and I appear to be playing, I need to have for things like that." "We all carry the remnants of associations we would rather forget," He told her sincerely. "Passing information to the LCD being one of mine." "Good," George said decisively. "John has an ongoing relationship with both me and Jo, and I have an ongoing relationship with both John and Karen. I did tell you it was complicated," She said, seeing his look of astonishment. "Bloody hell," He said in wonder. "And I thought I knew everything about being unconventional." "Believe it or not, it does actually work. I needed the reassurance of your allegiances, because it is strictly forbidden for a judge to have an affair with any barrister who may appear before him. Ex-wives and ex-lovers are fine, but current wives and lovers are an absolute no no. With my father being as high up in the legal profession as he is, I probably have a little immunity in that respect, but Jo doesn't." "You barristers do like to live dangerously, don't you." "On the odd occasion now and then, yes, I suppose we do. When we sung the love duets, in the rehearsal where I was conducting, I could feel John's jealousy of you as if it was almost tangible. A couple of weeks before, I'd sung one of those duets with John, and it felt extremely wrong of me to be singing it with anyone else. If I am to act a part successfully, I think I need to have a reason for manufacturing the feelings I need to make my role a convincing one. Before this slightly obscure relationship with John and Jo began, I had to defend the pretty despicable CEO of a mobile phone company. Jo was working for the prosecution, and John was on the bench. In those days, Jo and I loathed the very sight and sound of each other, which as you can imagine, made any such case pretty difficult for both of us. I wasn't happy about taking on the One Way case, but that's another story. But the only way I could do it convincingly, was to persistently and continuously get under Jo's skin. That was a pretty easy thing for me to do in those days, I am ashamed to admit, but the sheer force of my envy of her place in John's affections was what carried me through that case. So, when I tried singing the part of the loving wife with you, it didn't work, because I won't ever have those sort of feelings for you." Neil had listened to this in silence, realising that she was telling him far more than she'd really meant too. He pondered everything for a few moments, allowing all the facts that had been presented to him, to sort themselves into their rightful places in his brain. "So," He said eventually. "Somehow, I need to provoke the vague pretense of such feelings." "Possibly," She conceded. "But how?" Walking over to the stereo, Neil moved the CD that was already inserted, to the track he wanted. "Come here," He said, and as George approached him, he held out his arms. "When you sang this with me last time, only your voice was engaged in the part you were trying to play. For you to be able to allow yourself to play a role you would never inhabit in a million years, I think you need to use everything you have, which includes your body. Now, the first love duet, with its ridiculously slow triplet beat, provides the rhythm of a waltz. I think we should try actually dancing to it." "I'll try anything once," George said dryly, moving into his outstretched arms, placing one hand in his, and one on his shoulder, and allowing his other arm to go around her waist. When he'd seen her open the door earlier that evening, Neil had obviously taken in her thinness, but now, as he became physically aware of just how little spare flesh she had, he found himself wondering as to the cause. "I never thought I'd be doing this again," He said to break the ice. "What?" she asked, and he could hear the tension in her voice. "Dancing with a beautiful woman." As she laughed, he could feel some of the nervousness seeping out of her muscles.
As they began, they both realised that to dance to the three beat waltz, wouldn't be possible as the triplets were played too fast. This meant that they immediately slid into the very slow, gently swaying four beat rhythm of the time signature. When George opened her mouth to sing, Neil stopped her. "Not yet," He said gently so as not to spoil the mood. "Just allow yourself to relax, to become one with the music. You need to be able to feel it in every pore, in every nerve and muscle. Take the words, and the feeling behind them, right into your soul. When you have hold of them, allow the feelings to wash over every fibre of your being. Adam is everything to his wife. Adam has given himself so completely to her, that Eve will eventually be able to tempt him into seeking the knowledge that will be his destruction. Eve has so much power over her mate, that she can even lead him into obeying the serpent of desire." As he said all this, in that slow, deep, utterly entrancing voice, Neil fixed his eyes on her, not allowing her gaze to wander off to any other point in the room. It was almost as if he was hypnotising her, gradually prising away every last iota of her reluctance, to be drawn into playing the part of the loving, yet powerful force behind the throne. George couldn't help but be aroused by what she knew he was doing to her. The only man, who'd ever been able to arouse her with his voice and voice alone, was John. But here, standing so close to her now, was a man who was doing this, purely for the sake of their art. He would never find her remotely attractive, and she knew that neither would she in any other circumstance. But oh, that voice! She could feel her nipples pushing at the thin fabric of her dress, and Neil could see the unmistakable gleam of excitement in her eyes. Her body moved with far more ease, far more suppleness than it had done when they began, meaning that she was indeed extremely relaxed.
When they reached the end of the first duet, Neil swiftly reached for the dial on the stereo, to change the track to the second duet, whilst still keeping his other arm around George. They moved again in perfect syncopation as the duet began, only this time, Neil began to sing.
"Graceful consort, at thy side, softly fly the golden hours."
George couldn't believe it. She felt as though she was positively floating on euphoria, sailing through the air on the golden wings of either love, or pure sexual arousal. When it was time for her to join him, she opened her mouth, and the words appeared to drift out as if of their own accord.
"Spouse adore'd, at thy side, purest joys o'erflow the heart."
Neil knew as soon as she began to sing that he'd cracked it. Somehow, with all those words of encouragement and sheer enticement, he'd done it. It gave him an enormous feeling of triumph, to know that he'd freed something so delightfully pure. There was so much feeling in what she was singing now, so much that hadn't been there before. They kept on dancing as they sang, his voice eventually returning to join with hers, taking the celebration of their achievement through the many bars of gloriously decorative counterpoint. George soared up as high as was necessary, finding nothing a difficulty. She was putting everything she had into those words, just as he was. God, if only Haydn himself were here to hear them. When they eventually rose to the final cadence, the music seemed almost to lift them off the ground, to carry them through the final act of their union.
As Neil reached to switch off the CD, before it could progress into the final piece, George just stood and stared at him. "My god," She said in astounded wonder. "What on earth did you do to me?" Neil could think of several far more truthful answers, such as tapping into her sexual core, which he decided not to give her. "I just made you relax, that's all," He said almost nonchalantly. "I'll say," She said with a laugh. "That was incredible, possibly the most intoxicating feeling I've had in a long time." "Don't tell Karen that," He said with a wink. "Or she'll have me shot." "Not that sort of feeling," She said with a slight blush, which immediately told him otherwise. "But Karen isn't the one I've got to worry about. I think we should dance it like that when we perform it, and that's not going to improve the situation with John. I had a pretty enormous row with him after the rehearsal where I conducted, and I'm not very eager to repeat the experience." "Leave him to me," Neil said decisively. "And he won't thank you for getting involved, in what was really quite a personal argument." "I'm not, because I know nothing of the substance of it, though I can guess. I take it you told him that never in this lifetime will I have those sort of designs on you?" "Yes, of course I did, but he didn't appear to believe me." "Right, I'll talk to him at the rehearsal on Saturday. I am not going to allow him to jeopardise what has the potential to be a magnificent performance, just because he can't accept what's staring him in the face." "Well, I wish you luck," George said quietly, immensely grateful that he was prepared to take on something so unpredictable as John's jealousy.