Dead Heat - By Dick Francis & Felix Francis Page 0,75

from the blackboard and chalk wine lists that were proudly displayed above the mirror-backed serving area.

The food was good and also imaginative. Caroline chose grilled whole sea bass with couscous salad while I plumped for the Cumberland sausages and garlic mashed potato. I wondered about the garlic and so, obviously, did Caroline. She used her fork to pinch some of my potato. I caught her eye as she was putting it in her mouth. For a moment we glanced deeper, into the inner soul, and then laughed as we both understood, unspoken, the reason why.

Caroline was excited about the Chicago trip and we talked about her job and especially about her music.

‘I feel so alive when I’m playing,’ she said. ‘I exist only in my head and, I know this sounds stupid, but my hands on the bow and the strings seem somehow disconnected from my body. They have a mind of their own and they just do it.’

I sat there looking at her, not wanting to interrupt.

‘Even if I have a new piece that I haven’t played before, I don’t really have to consciously tell my fingers where to go. I just look at the notes on the paper and my fingers seem to do it by themselves. I can feel the result. It’s wonderful.’

‘Can you hear what you yourself are playing with all the other instruments around you?’ I asked.

‘Oh yes,’ she said. ‘But I actually feel the sound I make. I feel it through my bones. If I press hard on my viola with my chin, my whole head becomes full of my music. In fact, I have to be careful not to press too hard as then I can’t hear any of the rest of the orchestra. Playing in a great orchestra is so exhilarating. Apart, that is, from all the damn people.’

‘What people?’ I asked.

‘The other members,’ she said. ‘They can be so catty, so prima donna-ish. We are all meant to be one team but there are so many petty rivalries. Everyone is trying to be one better than everyone else, especially in their own section. All the violinists want to end up being leader and most of the other instruments hate the fact that the leader is always a violinist. It’s like a bloody school playground. There are the bullies and the bullied. Some of the older members hate the younger ones coming along and getting the solo parts that they think they should have. Hell hath no fury like a passed-over would-be soloist, I can tell you. Once, I even saw a senior member of an orchestra try to sabotage the instrument of a younger soloist. I just hope I never get to be like that.’

‘Chefs can be pretty devious too, you know,’ I said, and I wondered again if jealousy of my success had been the real reason for someone adding poisonous kidney beans to the c inner.

‘But I bet you’ve never had to work with eighty or so of them at once, all trying to show that they’re better than their neighbours, while at the same time having to come together to bring a score to life.’

‘Maybe not,’ I said. ‘But it feels like it sometimes.’

She smiled. ‘Now don’t get me wrong,’ she said. ‘I adore being in a really good professional orchestra. It can be so moving and so wonderfully fulfilling. The climax to a work can be fantastic. You know, like Tchaikovsky’s 1812 Overture with all the cannon blasts and everything, in the Royal Albert Hall with seven thousand people there, it’s unbelievably exciting.’ She laughed. ‘Better than an orgasm.’

I wasn’t sure how to take that comment. Practice, I thought. I just needed more practice. ‘Wait and see,’ I said.

‘Is that a promise?’ she said, laughing.

‘Absolutely,’ I replied, stroking her hand across the table.

We sat and finished our meals in contented silence, perhaps not wanting to break the spell, until a waiter came over to collect our empty plates. We ordered two coffees and I poured the last of the Chianti into our glasses. Neither of us gave the outward impression that we wanted to rush back to her flat and put my promise to the test. So much for outward impressions. Inside, I was desperate.

‘So what are you playing in Chicago?’ I asked her, putting my desperation back in its box.

Her face lit up. ‘Mostly Elgar. We do his first symphony and also the Variations, which I love. There is also some Sibelius in the programme. His