Part One Hundred And Twenty
Karen didn't sleep particularly well on the Friday night, in spite of the intense sexual sensation she'd experienced earlier. She watched as a portion of the moon peeped through the crack in the bedroom curtains, playing over George's exquisite bone structure, the soft light of lovers gently caressing those long, blonde eyelashes as they fluttered in the midst of a dream. Karen hadn't meant to talk about her parents, they having been one of her no go areas for years. It had felt kind of odd to even mention them by the names of mum and dad. But after prodding her in the right direction, George had listened, not interrupted, and had simply accepted the way Karen had said things were. Karen hated revealing her vulnerabilities to anyone, but maybe that was part of being in a serious and meaningful relationship. If so, why the hell had she told George of all people? It wasn't as if they could ever be involved in anything more than simple sexual satisfaction, with the added bonus of occasional bouts of emotional support. She eventually drifted into a deep, restless sleep, when the sun was beginning to creep over the horizon. When George awoke a few hours later, she lay watching Karen sleep. Even in rest Karen didn't seem able to properly relax. Her face was briefly contorted, with her limbs occasionally twitching, making George want to take away all the thoughts that were clearly disturbing her slumber. Returning to bed a little while later, with two cups of tea and the morning's paper, George waited for Karen to emerge from sleep. When she did finally open her eyes, Karen felt sluggish, dull, as if all her energy had been suddenly drained out of her. "You had a fairly restless night," George said, feeling Karen's gaze on her. "Discussing demons can do that to a person," Karen said dryly, her voice very deep with early morning drowsiness. Refolding the newspaper and dropping it on the floor, George slid back down beside Karen. "How do you feel?" She asked, putting her arms round her. "As though I could sleep for a week," Karen said, gently kissing her. "And I could really do without this rehearsal this afternoon. I'm not really in the mood for being polite to anyone." "Oh, I shouldn't worry," George told her with a wry smile. "It'll be John who will be struggling to maintain his dignity, not you. I've a feeling Daddy will ask Neil and I to perform the two love duets today, and since the little practice we had on Wednesday, I know we can do it, which isn't going to make John very happy." "So that's why Neil wanted your phone number. How did it go?" "Let's just say, that we discovered a means to success," George said with a smirk. "Oh, do tell," Karen invited. "I'm intrigued." "We danced it, really acting it rather than just singing it. We didn't sing during the first one, because he just kept talking to me, almost hypnotising me into the part. It was incredible. That voice of his just sort of slides over you," She added with a self-satisfied yawn. "Are you actually telling me, that Neil Grayling, turned you on, just by talking to you?" Karen asked in astounded amazement. "I know, terrible, isn't it," George said self-deprecatingly. "No, not really," Karen said with a grin. "It's just a little bizarre, that's all. Did he know?" "I'm not certain, but I think so, and I think he might have done it on purpose. But to be honest, I don't care, because it worked. When I finally began to sing, I felt as though I was floating, as if the words were taking over my entire being. You don't think me stupid?" "No, of course not," Karen said, kissing her lingeringly. After a few moment's silence, she added, "So, I suppose this means that you'll be pretty insatiable after the rehearsal this afternoon." "That's not a problem, is it?" George asked silkily, her hands beginning to move tantalisingly over Karen's body. "Are you joking," Karen said with a laugh. "Of course it's not. I like you when you can't get enough of me."
When Neil arrived for the rehearsal on the Saturday afternoon, he had to admit to not really looking forward to the conversation he knew he had to have with John. Other people's relationship problems weren't something he usually concerned himself with, because he'd had more than enough of his own one way and another, but this was different. The Judge had persuaded George to play Eve, no doubt using every manipulative tactic in the book, so he could damn well support her in actually fulfilling it. When he saw John arrive, Neil mustered all his tactical reserves, and strolled casually over to him. "Might I have a word?" He asked quietly, not wanting to draw any attention to them. "Yes, of course," John replied, utterly mystified as to what this man should want with him. When they had adjourned to a quiet corner, Neil took a deep breath and began. "I have become aware, that you have something of a problem, with regards to George acting her role in anything resembling a convincing manner." Neil had said this in his very quiet, very professional voice that usually achieved results, but he could see immediately that he'd crossed a line in doing so. "And precisely what makes you assume such a thing?" John enquired guardedly. "George told me," Neil replied, feeling as though Mount Vesuvius was about to erupt. "Well, she shouldn't have done," John said icily. "That argument was between me and George, and no one else." "Look," Neil continued uncomfortably. "I don't know any of the details, and I don't want to know. George also has a certain difficulty with enacting a role that she neither feels, nor wants to feel. However, we went over those two particular pieces together this week, and I think we may have conquered George's difficulty, but you're not going to like it." "Why?" John demanded ominously. "In order for her to be able to fulfill the part convincingly," Neil said carefully. "We found it necessary to act, rather than just sing. George is perfectly happy with this, but believe it or not, she doesn't want to hurt you. She needs your blessing, before she can completely relax." "That's as maybe," John said curtly, still unwilling to acknowledge that Neil was offering him an olive branch. "But what exactly do you get out of this?" "I am getting no more out of playing the part of Adam, than anyone else is of being part of the orchestra, plain and simple. George isn't, nor ever will be my type, I promise you." "Oh, and why's that then?" "Because she is a woman. George is beautiful, incredibly talented and deserves to be allowed to do one of the things she loves. That is all I will ever see in her." "So, what is your type?" John demanded acidly, almost insulted that Neil didn't find George sexually attractive, even though he knew this was ridiculous. "I think that's my business, don't you," Neil replied, using every ounce of self-control he possessed not to lose his rag. "You lay so much as a fingernail on her, Grayling," John said in his most threatening, most earnestly embittered tones. "You touch her an inch more than is absolutely necessary to carry this off, and I'll have you in court, quicker than you can say justice. Is that clear?" "It was you who persuaded her to play the part of Eve, Sir John," Neil replied stonily. "So don't you think, that instead of leveling me with unnecessary threats, it's about time you started allowing her to do what you asked her to do?" As John stood there, slightly aghast that his usual threat to any encroaching male had gone virtually unacknowledged, Neil threw in one last persuasive jibe. "If you were so concerned about who would be playing opposite George, you should have taken the part yourself." Nailing John to the spot with one, last penetrating stare, Neil stalked away.
John stood, staring after Neil, with an utterly flabbergasted look on his face. It wasn't very often that he was so skillfully ordered to alter his behaviour, and he didn't like the feeling it created in him. He felt small, humiliated, as though he was an errant schoolboy again, and had been reprimanded for some adolescent misdemeanour. He couldn't believe that someone had possessed the audacity to speak to him in such a manner. But this was the folly of Judges the world over, he supposed, to assume that no one would dare ignore their level of authority. As other people began to arrive, John started tuning up his violin, only half of his mind on the job. He was loath to admit it, but he knew that Grayling was right. He had been jealous of George's performing those two love duets with anyone else, and he had allowed it to cloud his professional judgement as a musician. So, give her his blessing, by actions if not by words, he must. When Karen and George arrived, George went to speak to her father, and Karen came over to John, seeing in an instant that something was wrong. "What's happened?" She asked without preamble, stopping beside his chair and resting her viola case on the floor. "Nothing," John told her, not wanting her to know what Neil had said to him. "Ross used to look at me like that, whenever he knew I was about to receive a bad school report about him," Karen replied, John being completely unable to hide anything from her. "I think I've just been rather smartly put in my place," He said, always feeling the need to confess his sins to Karen, no matter how harsh the rebuke might be. "Who by?" Karen asked, her lips faintly twitching into a smile. "Don't you dare laugh," John told her firmly. "This isn't funny." "No, of course not," Karen said, trying to straighten her face, and give him her full attention. "Your boss, in his infinite wisdom, has virtually ordered me to keep my jealousy under wraps for the duration of this endeavour." "Ah," Karen said knowingly, wholly unable to prevent a broad grin from spreading over her face. Then, turning serious again, she said quietly, "He does have a point, you know." "I don't care if he has a point," John retorted hotly. "I don't require my inefficiencies to be pointed out by him of all people." "Oh," Karen said dryly. "So it's Neil's threatening of your masculine pride that's bothering you." "Masculine pride?" John snorted in utter disgust. "He wouldn't know the meaning of the word." "I would have thought," Karen said quietly, though with enough ice in her tone to freeze the sun. "That such a comment was beneath you, John. I also would have thought, that certain aspects of the last few months, might have broadened your horizons. I don't like being disappointed in you." As Karen made to turn away, John caught at her hand. "Karen, wait," He cajoled. "I'm sorry. That was completely out of order." "I don't want to have to tell you to grow up, John," Karen replied, giving his hand a small squeeze. "But you make another smart comment about a sexuality that you clearly still have no time for, and I will." As she walked away from him and took her seat next to Michael Nivin, John felt far worse than he had done after Grayling's shove in the right direction. With Grayling, he had simply felt exposed and humiliated, but with Karen, he felt hurt, hurt that he had caused her to say something so cutting to him. He knew he shouldn't have made that dig at Grayling's sexuality, and in truth, he didn't really mean it, but he still couldn't escape that feeling of jealousy, that another man would have his arms round the woman who, even when they hadn't been together, John had always regarded as his.
The rehearsal began to come together at this point, meaning that he didn't have a chance to speak to Karen again before they started playing. When George sat down near him, John reached over and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, his version of a publicly acceptable fond greeting. Turning round to look at him, George gave him a warm smile. She briefly held his hand against her cheek, her way of asking him not to be too cross with her for what was coming. First of all, they began with George's solo, 'On Mighty Pens', which provided her with a thoroughly satisfactory warm up for the duets that she knew would be sprung on them soon. Her father was impressed at the volume she put into her tone, and with the accuracy and clarity of the playing, particularly from Clare's flute. This was one of the pieces they'd practiced the accompaniment to, on the day when George had been conducting. They then moved through one of Monty's solos, and one of Neil's, both men convincing Joe Channing that the eventual performance would undoubtedly be a success. When Joe turned to face them, George knew that their time had come. "I think it's about time," Joe said slowly. "That we run through the two duets for Adam and Eve. I believe you have done this before, but not under my surveillance." "The thing is, Daddy," George said carefully, looking up at him. "The most successful way we've found of performing them, isn't perhaps the way in which Haydn intended them to be performed." "Why?" Joe asked ominously, knowing that his daughter was vastly understating the issue. "Perhaps if you simply observe, you'll understand what I mean." "That's what I'm worried about," Joe said dryly, stepping stiffly down from the rostrum. "If you will conduct, Monty, I can see what my daughter has been getting up to." There was a murmur of laughter from the orchestra, as Monty took Joe's place. As Joe went and sat down, a little way from the sprawling group of musicians, George and Neil approached each other. At a whispered suggestion from him, George moved to stand side on to the cellos, so that in dancing with her, Neil would have his back to John, making it impossible for John to see anything, except the occasional glimpse of George's face. Neil had decided to do this, so that John would at least be spared the view of his arm around George's tiny waist.
As they began slowly dancing to the swaying, four beat rhythm of the first duet, several people stilled their bows, to gape at the sheer beauty of what they were seeing. George could feel Neil's arm around her, his hand resting casually on her lower back, his other hand entwined with hers. As they began to sing in perfect tandem, all ears homed in on the utter perfection of their combined sound. It pained John to hear her sounding so in love, so besotted with her mate, and the fact that he knew she was only acting, didn't serve to make him feel any better about the situation. But the sound she was making was incredible, so pure and delicate, yet so filled with power, that it almost overwhelmed him. Who was he to cast doubt on her exhibiting such a talent, who was he to prevent her from showing the entire world how beautiful she was? It highly confused him to feel this combination of hurt and wonder, this utterly devastating urge to snatch her away from Grayling and to protect her from every other man for the rest of her life, and yet to put her on the pedestal that befitted such beauty and clarity of tone. Joe Channing on the other hand, simply stared at his daughter, seeing in an instant that he was witnessing a transformation before his very eyes. He'd always known that his one and only child was incredibly talented, that she could perform as well in court as she had done on the stage at school, but he'd never suspected that it went so deep. From what he could see of the look on George's face, she was utterly wrapped up in what she was doing, with a soft, almost swooning expression in her eyes. When the first duet came to an end, Joe Channing looked contemplatively at the couple before him. "Hmm, yes," He said dryly. "As you said, not as Haydn intended. However, I will reserve judgment until I've seen your enactment of the second duet." Knowing this was as good as she was likely to get, George rolled her eyes in affectionate acceptance of her father's methods.
As the second duet began, George tried to recapture the feelings she'd had when they'd sung this on Wednesday, but being in the presence of her father, never mind so many other people, meant that although she sang with far more feeling than she had done when she'd been conducting, she couldn't entirely let go in the way she had on Wednesday. Neil could feel this slight reticence in her, the faint holding back of her emotions, and he wasn't entirely sure how to alleviate it. He began, by gently caressing her hand as it lay in his, running his index finger over her knuckles, and alternating this by sweeping his thumb across her palm. He hadn't entirely meant his actions to be given a sexual interpretation, but he didn't miss the slight tensing of her muscles in response. As they were in the midst of a passage that consisted of nothing but her voice, he took the opportunity to murmur something to her out of the side of his mouth, so that no one else would see. "Picture yourself saying these words to a particular person." She didn't miss a beat as she took in his suggestion, knowing that he was trying to help her really fulfill her potential. As her own words washed over her, George allowed her mind to wander, not to the evening before and her frolics with Karen in the back garden, but to the weekend two weeks previously, when she and Jo had finally crossed that line between close friendship, and sexual attraction. Neil watched as George's eyes left his, beginning to stray towards the object of her thoughts. He assumed her inner gaze was focussed on Karen, as she wouldn't be able to see John without craning passed him, but when George's eyes lighted on Jo Mills, sitting with her cello not five feet from where they were slowly dancing, he couldn't believe his eyes. The expression on George's face was so soft, so enchantingly gentle, that he knew this was no mistake. She had meant to end up gazing at Jo, to bestow on her the words that were issuing forth from her with such power of feeling.
'Life and all I have, all I have is thine. My reward thy love shall be.'
As George sang these fondest of words, she gazed at Jo, beseeching her to glance up, to see the clear sentiments in her eyes. George wasn't entirely sure why she'd picked on Jo, but perhaps it was simply that this expression of her feelings, no matter how contrived, had given her the opportunity to tell Jo how she felt about her, how she wanted to be allowed to feel about her.
'With thee, with thee, delight is ever new. With thee, with thee, is life incessant bliss.'
Jo did look up at this point, hearing timbres of sincerity in George's voice that simply demanded her attention. She had been covertly watching George, admiring how gracefully she danced, but it was the first exultation of these words that caused her to lift her eyes from the music. Her playing didn't falter, because she knew this particular piece by heart. As her eyes met George's, seeing in them such a wave of blissful entreaty to be heard, she shivered. She wasn't certain that the actual words were meant for her, but the feelings engendered by them definitely were. So, it wasn't only her who hadn't been able to forget that kiss, it wasn't only her who secretly thought about being in love with someone she shouldn't be. George clearly felt it too, felt that irresistible pull that was urging them even closer together. They hadn't seen all that much of each other since the last rehearsal, but that hadn't helped their mutual attraction to dissipate. A bolt of electricity seemed to flash between them, to rekindle the flame that hadn't entirely died.
When all was quiet, Joe Channing cleared his throat. "I was more than a little skeptical when you told me that you would be doing things differently, but I am forced to admit that the pair of you have got it absolutely right. Haydn might not have intended his lovers to be quite so full of feeling, but I imagine that he would nevertheless have been proud to witness such an interpretation of the biblical text." George smiled broadly, seeing this as her father's slightly cryptic way of saying that he also was proud of them. The rehearsal broke up soon after this, and George found herself feeling a little apprehensive of the reaction she was about to receive from John. But when he finally approached her, she was pleasantly surprised. Putting a slightly possessive, though nonetheless loving arm around her shoulders, he said, "Well done," in that quiet, understated tone that always said so much. "I'm sorry, if you didn't like it," George replied, not wanting to have hurt him in the process. "It was beautiful," He told her sincerely. "It reminded me of when I first met you." "So you're not cross with me?" She asked a little uncertainly. "No," He said a little hoarsely. "I shouldn't have been so stupid." As he said these last few words, he saw Karen walking up to them. "It seems to be my day for putting right my misdeeds," He said dryly. "Oh, you haven't been arguing again?" George asked regretfully. "Nothing that can't be fixed," John assured her. "Wasn't she beautiful?" He said when Karen reached them. "Incredible," Karen agreed with a smile. "Every inch the perfect seducer." "No wonder they always put the blame for all man's misdeeds on Eve," George said dryly, to cover up her pleasure at their approval. "Am I forgiven?" John asked Karen, his eyes pleading with hers to absolve him. "I should imagine so," She said a little coolly. "But just remember what I said." "As if I'll ever forget it," John said in an undertone, forever determined to have the last word.