So
pleased I've finally got my car back. However, I've made the most of
being marooned in the cottage by spending the last few days writing
some missing sections for my historical novel.
Ines
phoned this morning asking if I could run through some new pieces
with her. She's now moved in with Gavin and described the house to me
in great detail. I think she was keen to find an excuse to show off
her new home. Her directions were surprisingly easy to follow and it
only took me ten minutes to get there. I drove through a pair of
imposing gates up a gravelled driveway to a large white house. Ines
was already at the door as I got out of the car. She looked different
somehow; a little older perhaps, her hair pulled back, and dressed
more formally than usual. She led me through a black and white tiled
hallway into a living room with a large conservatory off to one side.
One of the walls was decorated with photos of Gavin performing in
various operatic venues around the world, and framed newspaper
cuttings: reviews of his performances. A number of similar photos of
him stood on the marble mantle piece. (I wondered if Ines had placed
them there).
The
room was very masculine and dominated by two large black leather
couches. Perched in the centre of one was an elderly lady who was
introduced to me as Gavin's mother. She beckoned me over, speaking so
quietly I had to bend right down to hear her. I asked about her home
in Wales, but could only make out a few words of her reply: something
about it being very cold.
No
sign of any books, apart from two hardback travel books placed
strategically on the glass coffee table. I peeled one from the table
top to take a look. (Obviously no readers in this house!)
We
then went to rehearse in the conservatory where a white baby grand
piano dominated the room. We were halfway through ComoFue
when Gavin appeared at the doorway. Ines stopped, obviously surprised
to see him. He continued to lean against the doorway as he watched
us. Ines again stumbled over the lyrics a few times, so we started
again. I was certain Gavin was putting her off; he was standing, arms
folded, without saying a word. We went through the next piece, Aguasde Março,
during which time Gavin left the room without a comment. A couple of
more attempts and things got better. Ines suggested we take a break
for coffee.
Passing
through the living room, I noticed Gavin's mother was still seated on
the couch, now asleep, snoring slightly with her mouth open. I
followed Ines into the large modern black and white themed kitchen
where she made us coffee and two slices of chocolate cake. I was
asking where Gavin had got to when Ines told me to listen. The sound
of his voice boomed into the room.
I
followed Ines as she hurried back to the conservatory in time to
applaud the final cadence of NessunDorma.
Gavin bowed theatrically, inviting me to return to his piano. (The
man certainly enjoys being the centre of attention). For the next ten
minutes Gavin took up his position at the doorway while we resumed
out practice. Whenever we finished a song, he neither clapped nor
smiled once and I had the feeling he somehow disapproved.
When
I arrived back home I found a plastic bag hanging on my door handle.
Inside was a dark blue jumper I hadn't seen for months. I took out a
folded note.
"You
left this at mine. So sorry we keep missing each other. Adele."
I
took the bag and went into the cottage. Why can't that woman leave me
alone? I took my mind off Gavin and Adele and spent the evening
researching for my book.
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