‘Oh, Poppy,’ Sara said gently, putting the paper back on the pile and coming over to place a hand on her shoulder. ‘I’m sorry, but you must put it in context. One bad review, that’s all it is.’
‘Yes, well, most of the time they know absolutely nothing, anyway. At least Cosmo never saw it. He was still in Prague.’ She brightened. ‘You’re right. One bad review, that’s all it was. And there’s no need for him ever to see it. Why not hop back up now? Then I can finish your massage.’
The pressure of Poppy’s hands again sent tingles across Sara’s tired body. Her fingertips were now working around Sara’s ears, almost stopping her jaws from moving.
‘They don’t realise,’ Poppy said, ‘do they? Critics.’
‘Oh, they’re much too powerful. And you can’t answer back, that’s what’s so frustrating.’
In the silence that followed Sara’s eyelids drooped. With a huge effort she went on, ‘It’s harder for the partner, of course. The artist or composer, whatever, they have this sort of inbuilt belief in themselves. They have to, if they’re going to survive. Nobody realises it’s the partners who suffer most, trying to shield them from it. They take the brunt. You took the brunt over that one, didn’t you?’
‘I certainly did! I was sending his work all over the place for him. Anyway, as you say, it’s only one horrible review,’ Poppy said. ‘Your critic friend just had it in for him, for some reason.’
‘And you’re so
helpless
, aren’t you?’
‘It’s quite wrong, just one person standing in someone’s way like that. Having it in for them. Anyway, doesn’t matter. That was before Bath. We’ve put all that behind us now.’
‘You are so good. You really care, don’t you? You’d do anything for Cosmo, wouldn’t you? Shooting a few critics mightn’t be a bad start!’
Poppy laughed jerkily. ‘Just that one, maybe!’ Her hands were working fast now. ‘Now! That’s it for the massage. That should settle things down ready for the acupuncture. Stay nice and still, or only move very slowly and gently.’
But, turning to the case of acupuncture needles sitting open on a chair behind her, Poppy’s own movements were anything but slow and gentle. She bumped the lid with her arm and sent the whole thing on to the floor. Needles skeetered across the floorboards. ‘Oh!
Oh!
Bother! Oh, look, how awful of me. Just when you should be getting nice and relaxed. Don’t move. Stay there, I’ll get them.’
When all the needles had been recovered Sara said, ‘I suppose those’ll have to be sterilised again, won’t they? I’ll show you where.’
‘Well, yes. Yes, really, I suppose they should be . . .’
Sara climbed off the table for a second time and led her into the kitchen. ‘They have to be boiled, I guess? Do you want a saucepan?’
But Poppy had already found the kettle. She filled it and switched it on. ‘Steam’s better,’ she said cheerfully. ‘And quicker. You go back now and get warm under the blanket. I’ll be along in two ticks.’ Sara lingered, listening to the rising groan of the kettle as it came to the boil. Poppy turned and busied herself with the needles, holding them in a cloth and turning them in the steam which was now clouding one corner of the kitchen. Sensing that Sara had not moved, she turned back and smiled. ‘Go on. Don’t want the effects of the massage to wear off, do we?’
‘No. No, course not,’ Sara said mildly, and returned to the music room.
C
OSMO UNLOCKED
and opened the door in his dressing-gown, blinking in the light but quite unsurprised to find Andrew Poole on the doorstep. Andrew followed him down to the kitchen, where Cosmo released the window blind. He turned from the window and blurted, ‘Okay, I’ll tell you the truth. About last night. I want to get the record straight about what I did. I don’t want anyone else accusing me, do you see? But I don’t want Poppy knowing.’
Andrew raised his eyebrows enquiringly. ‘Quickly then, if it’s relevant,’ he said, sitting down at the table. ‘That’s not actually why I’m here.’
Cosmo sat opposite, drawing his thin polyester paisley dressing-gown around him, because he had lost the cord. He wet his lips. ‘Okay, right, I couldn’t admit to anything last night. When Sara started on about . . . doing something with Adele, I thought she was talking about something else. You know.’ He blushed and licked his lips again. ‘I’m admitting it, all right, but only to you. I was, you know, seeing her.’
‘Seeing her?’ Andrew asked sternly. ‘
Seeing
her?’
‘Well, you know, we were . . . er, you know. We were, er, having, ah . . . relations. Sexual relations. Look’—Cosmo raised both hands in front of him, as if warding off a blow—‘it’s not what you’re thinking, not what Sara was going on about last night.’ Seeing Andrew’s face, he went on hastily, ‘Look, I didn’t force her, not at all. I didn’t exploit her. I mean Adele—I mean, she enjoyed it. She really did. She even made the running. In a sense. Honestly.’
‘What? I don’t believe you. What do you mean, “made the running”? She was practically a child. You’re disgusting.’ Andrew’s voice was low with anger.
Cosmo leaned forward, desperate to be understood. ‘Look, I’m telling you the truth. She came to my room one night, when Poppy was away working. She was . . . willing. More than willing. After that, well . . .’
‘Oh, after that, don’t tell me. You went to
her
room, am I right? Every chance you could get, I’ll bet.’ Andrew closed his eyes for a second. The effort of not actually hitting Cosmo was making him nauseous. He opened his eyes. ‘But don’t you
ever
try and say it wasn’t abuse. You exploited her. You exploited a girl who didn’t understand the consequences of things. You took advantage.’
‘I took precautions,’ Cosmo whimpered. ‘She wasn’t a child. She wasn’t
innocent
.’
Andrew jumped to his feet, grabbed Cosmo by the lapels of his dressing-gown and hauled him up across the table. ‘Christ! You say one more thing in your own filthy defence and I’ll break your fucking neck. You’re a piece of scum!’
‘But she liked it . . .’ Cosmo was trembling.
Andrew stared at him. ‘Christ!’ he exploded, and shoved him backwards so that he landed heavily in his chair.
Practically weeping, Cosmo said, ‘Don’t. There’s more. About the music. About Prague.’
He took Andrew’s revolted silence as permission to carry on.
‘The, ah, material that I’m currently developing for the opera is based, both substantially
and
substantively, on sound sketches dating from an earlier, ah, creative period.’
‘Oh,’ said Andrew savagely. ‘You mean it’s old.’
Cosmo turned an appalling colour. ‘Mozart did it! He was always reusing things!’
Andrew dismissed this with a disgusted grunt. ‘Look, you’re pathetic. Fucking pathetic. There’s really nothing else I can say. Where’s Poppy?’
‘No, listen, please. There was nothing else I could do. Look, everyone thinks Herve’s some sort of mentor of mine. Well, he isn’t! I hate him. I was desperate to study with him, but that was before I found out what he was like. I thought once he’d heard my stuff he’d want to teach me, so I went to Prague and more or less forced myself on him, to be honest. It sounded so great—studying in Prague with Herve Petrescu—doesn’t it? Only it hardly
was
studying, I only saw Herve three times, less than once a month. He gave me less than half an hour and just sent me away to rethink things. The second time he asked who I was again. The last time he lost his temper and told me I was wasting my time and his. He threw my sheets of music all over the place, then stormed out and just left me there. So I started picking them up, and there was this note on the piano. Sara’s note to him. About this opera group in Bath needing a composer. So I grabbed it, left half the music behind. I reckoned he owed me that. That’s how I got here.’
He looked hard at Andrew’s scornful face and raised his voice plaintively. ‘That’s all I did wrong! Only since I came back I haven’t been able to write anything, I just haven’t got the courage! He’s taken away all my confidence. So I had to pretend I was writing stuff for the opera. What else could I do? With everybody expecting something and Poppy never leaving me alone. I just brought out the old stuff from Prague, bit by bit. I didn’t steal any music. Herve stole
mine
.’
It was easy to imagine Herve’s cruel dismissal of this unattractive, dull man. Andrew could see how it had happened, but that didn’t make what Cosmo had done right. But by now Cosmo had warmed up thoroughly to the idea that it was he himself who had been grievously wronged.
‘And it was horrible for me to find out Herve was in Bath, too! I’ve had an appalling time, wondering if he’d say something at a rehearsal, about the music being old stuff. But then I realised. He doesn’t even remember it. Now that he’s stolen it and changed it all round, it’s like the original doesn’t exist.
My
music doesn’t exist, oh no. It’s
his
music that’ll get all the credit and the London premières . . .’
Andrew roused himself. ‘Look, Cosmo, there’s plenty I could say about all of this. You probably haven’t committed a crime, but you’ve nothing to be proud of. That’s not why I’m here. I’d be grateful if you’d go and wake Poppy, please, and tell her to get dressed and come down.’
Cosmo wet his lips and shook his head. ‘Can’t. You just missed her. She’s not here.’
‘What? Where is she? She’s not working, is she?’
‘No. Well, sort of. I think she’s gone off to do an acupuncture session.’
‘She’s
what
? Where?’
Cosmo shrugged, wondering why Andrew was suddenly so agitated. ‘Don’t know. She woke me up as she was going off. She had her black bag.’
Andrew was already at the door. ‘Oh, Jesus. Jesus Christ. I know exactly where she’s gone.’
W
HEN
P
OPPY
returned to the music room with a gleaming handful of long needles, Sara was already lying on the table. Humming softly, Poppy busied herself in returning them to their places in the racks of the open case and Sara, flat on her back and seeing her upside down, watched. She moved her eyes across the room to the shelves on the opposite wall where all her sound equipment and CDs were stored. She hoped Poppy would not suggest soothing music, but mentally prepared a convincing refusal, just in case.
‘Now,’ Poppy was saying, sitting at Sara’s side. ‘I really want you to relax. Probably best if you close your eyes, as it’s your first time.’
‘Oh, but it’s not the first time! I watched Andrew’s, remember? That was amazing! And I’ve got no problem with seeing the needles going in. No, I’m really curious.’ Sara was conscious that she was babbling in her effort to stay alert.
Poppy pressed her lips together. ‘All right then, just to start with. But you’ll relax better with your eyes closed,’ she murmured. ‘Lie down properly at least. Arms by your sides.’
Sara obeyed and a moment later was aware of a tingling sensation in one arm. ‘No, actually Poppy, I was just thinking about your
Magic Flute
. I thought it was marvellous. It must have been difficult doing all those lovely little flashes and bangs. How’s it done?’ She half sat up to watch Poppy selecting her next needle.
‘Do lie down,’ Poppy said mildly.
‘No, but how?’ Sara said, propped up on her elbows.
‘Gosh, you
are
tense,’ Poppy said, rising and rearranging the blanket. Sara’s eyes were still asking the question. She sighed. ‘I’ll tell you if you promise to lie down. And I was just helping out, remember. You take a charge and a tiny,
really
tiny amount of explosive. Then you just set it so that it goes off when it’s meant to. That’s all. Do try to relax. Empty your mind.’
‘On whatever the cue is? Like right at the beginning when the serpent tries to attack the Three Ladies, or when Papageno touches the forbidden food, or when Tamino first tries to enter the temple, or when the Three Genii step on to their cloud to wave farewell?’ Sara rambled.
‘That’s right. Now, no more talking. Re-lax.’
‘Okay,’ Sara said, settling herself. ‘And when Sarastro opens the book of wisdom, or whatever it was?’
‘Hmmm,’ Poppy said, as Sara felt another strange tingling surge which seemed, perversely, to be pulling strength out of her. She breathed in deeply and exhaled slowly, feeling her head pounding. Another needle went in. This time Sara could not have said exactly where. She took another deep breath and began.
‘No, but it would be terrible, wouldn’t it, to be doing so much for someone, like you do for Cosmo, and then find out it was all for nothing?’
There was no reply. Sara felt another tingle. Or two. Her body seemed to be answering stimuli that nobody was giving it. She recited the alphabet swiftly to herself, only fairly confident she was getting it right.
‘If they were being unfaithful, for example,’ she blundered on. ‘If, for example, someone else was just turning their heads somehow, and while you were slogging your guts out, they were sleeping with them. And you could see it was all leading to disaster. Ow!’
‘Oh, sorry. Maybe you really should stop talking now. I wasn’t really following you anyway, to tell the truth.’
‘Of course,’ Sara went on soothingly, ‘these things are seldom straightforward. You wouldn’t necessarily know who to blame.’
‘You’re really not making much sense to me, I’m afraid.’
‘Cosmo preferred Adele, didn’t he?’
‘Please do lie back down. Right, that’s it. It’s important to lie still and not tense up.’
‘Poppy, I know that Cosmo was being unfaithful to you.’
There was a silence, followed by Poppy’s voice, all-understanding and womanly. ‘Oh, that! It wasn’t anything. It wasn’t his fault if she came on to him. Artists hold a certain fascination for some people, even for someone like Adele. But I’m the one he needs. What makes you think so, anyway?’
‘So it’s all right as long as they don’t shove it in your face?’ Sara murmured. Another tingle somewhere near her hips sharpened into a sting. ‘You don’t think that.’ She tried to raise one hand and found she couldn’t.
‘Oh, her and that autism. It was mainly put on, you know.’ The merest edge entered Poppy’s voice. ‘And her drawing. I don’t blame Cosmo a bit.’