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Authors: Stuart Fifield
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question through a combination of exaggerated mouth movements and glaring eyes, which bulged in the dogâs direction.
Riccardo shook his head â he couldnât smell anything.
âMy poor Renata,â said the Contessa, who had changed her score to Flotowâs opera Martha. She had caught sight of the end of Renataâs mouth aerobics as she did so. âIs your jaw no better? You sang âLuciaâ most beautifully just now, my dear. I do hope your jaw problem isnât about to return, not with our concert so close.â
For a moment, Renata completely lost the thread of the Contessaâs question, as her attention was still divided between Riccardo and the dog. âPardon, Contessa?â she asked.
âYour jaw; is it starting to trouble you again?â asked the Contessa, her face clouded with concern. The next COGOL concert was in just eight daysâ time and as usual, the ticket sales had been brisk. She could not afford to have any of her angels fall out at this late stage.
âOh⦠I see⦠No, not at all. I was simply performing a few stretching exercises. The Contessa is most kind for asking.â
On the other side of the Steinway, Riccardo Fossi smiled to himself with a knowing glow as he turned the pages in his score. He could tell them a thing or two about Renata and her accommodating stretching exercises.
âOh, that is good news, my dear,â said the Contessa, pressing the pages of her score firmly open on the pianoâs music stand. âI canât have my star soprano in any discomfort.â
Riccardo Fossi snorted out aloud and then attempted to disguise his unplanned outburst behind a mini fit of coughing. Julietta Camore, who also sang soprano, smiled what could best be described as a tolerant grimace. There were rivers of jealous rivalry running not too deep beneath the surface of COGOL, something the lovely Yvonne still had to discover.
âAre you alright, Riccardo?â asked the Contessa, turning her gaze from Renata to look at him. âWould you like some water?â
âThank you, no. It is simply a tickle on the vocal folds, nothing more. It has already passed,â he said, smiling broadly. No one caught the quick wink he flashed at Renata as he threw her a knowing glance that explained everything. She caught it and threw it back with her eyes. Between them, they knew things which did not have to be said.
âBravo! Then let us encourage the approaching evening with the Nocturne. You already know who will be performing this piece in our concert. Everyone else, please either follow the music or just relax for a few minutes.â
Those COGOL members who were not involved in the quartet-nocturne dispersed themselves to the various chairs that were dotted around the large room. All were still within easy range of the Steinway and the knack was to make sure that the two chairs nearest to the fireplace and Carlo Quinto were left vacant. For his part, the dog growled along more or less in time with the bouncy piano introduction to the Nocturne.
âSssshh! Carlo, that is quite enough!â snapped the Contessa without missing a note, as her fingers wound themselves easily around the notes of the keyboard. âI know you like this piece, but will you please stop that noise!â
Predictably, there was no response from the dog, who continued as before.
âIt is one of his favourites,â continued the Contessa as she played. It was rather a long introduction.
The others regarded Carlo suspiciously as they waited for their entrance cues. They had long ago formed the opinion that the bad-tempered little beast had no favourites of any kind, other than itself. The Contessa suddenly stopped mid-bar, just as chests had been expanded in preparation for first entries.
âDid I tell you about our next project ⦠for our concert in two monthsâ time?â she asked, smiling at the group. Several confused
Riccardo shook his head â he couldnât smell anything.
âMy poor Renata,â said the Contessa, who had changed her score to Flotowâs opera Martha. She had caught sight of the end of Renataâs mouth aerobics as she did so. âIs your jaw no better? You sang âLuciaâ most beautifully just now, my dear. I do hope your jaw problem isnât about to return, not with our concert so close.â
For a moment, Renata completely lost the thread of the Contessaâs question, as her attention was still divided between Riccardo and the dog. âPardon, Contessa?â she asked.
âYour jaw; is it starting to trouble you again?â asked the Contessa, her face clouded with concern. The next COGOL concert was in just eight daysâ time and as usual, the ticket sales had been brisk. She could not afford to have any of her angels fall out at this late stage.
âOh⦠I see⦠No, not at all. I was simply performing a few stretching exercises. The Contessa is most kind for asking.â
On the other side of the Steinway, Riccardo Fossi smiled to himself with a knowing glow as he turned the pages in his score. He could tell them a thing or two about Renata and her accommodating stretching exercises.
âOh, that is good news, my dear,â said the Contessa, pressing the pages of her score firmly open on the pianoâs music stand. âI canât have my star soprano in any discomfort.â
Riccardo Fossi snorted out aloud and then attempted to disguise his unplanned outburst behind a mini fit of coughing. Julietta Camore, who also sang soprano, smiled what could best be described as a tolerant grimace. There were rivers of jealous rivalry running not too deep beneath the surface of COGOL, something the lovely Yvonne still had to discover.
âAre you alright, Riccardo?â asked the Contessa, turning her gaze from Renata to look at him. âWould you like some water?â
âThank you, no. It is simply a tickle on the vocal folds, nothing more. It has already passed,â he said, smiling broadly. No one caught the quick wink he flashed at Renata as he threw her a knowing glance that explained everything. She caught it and threw it back with her eyes. Between them, they knew things which did not have to be said.
âBravo! Then let us encourage the approaching evening with the Nocturne. You already know who will be performing this piece in our concert. Everyone else, please either follow the music or just relax for a few minutes.â
Those COGOL members who were not involved in the quartet-nocturne dispersed themselves to the various chairs that were dotted around the large room. All were still within easy range of the Steinway and the knack was to make sure that the two chairs nearest to the fireplace and Carlo Quinto were left vacant. For his part, the dog growled along more or less in time with the bouncy piano introduction to the Nocturne.
âSssshh! Carlo, that is quite enough!â snapped the Contessa without missing a note, as her fingers wound themselves easily around the notes of the keyboard. âI know you like this piece, but will you please stop that noise!â
Predictably, there was no response from the dog, who continued as before.
âIt is one of his favourites,â continued the Contessa as she played. It was rather a long introduction.
The others regarded Carlo suspiciously as they waited for their entrance cues. They had long ago formed the opinion that the bad-tempered little beast had no favourites of any kind, other than itself. The Contessa suddenly stopped mid-bar, just as chests had been expanded in preparation for first entries.
âDid I tell you about our next project ⦠for our concert in two monthsâ time?â she asked, smiling at the group. Several confused
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