Read Online Errant Angels by Stuart Fifield - Free Book Online Page B

expressions were raised from the printed pages of music to focus on her. ‘When we take tea… Oh, Gregorio, I must talk to you, too… Where was I? Oh yes – the new project. You must not forget to remind me to tell you all about it. As usual it will be a fundraising event, but this time the charity we will be helping is completely different to the usual. It is really quite exciting.’ Immediately, her fingers resumed their intimate contact with the keyboard, picking up the accompaniment at the exact spot where she had suddenly stopped. Not a beat had been lost; her questioning outburst had simply put the notes into temporary suspended animation. Indeed, it had been such a fluid motion that the singers, who had only just released their lungs of un-needed air, were taken completely by surprise. Gregorio Marinetti’s normally warm baritone was the first voice to be heard. However, on this occasion, he valiantly tried to sing the smooth vocal line on little more than a quarter of a lungful of air. It was a technique the members of COGOL had all learned to do, as the Contessa’s behaviour grew more and more erratic with the passing years.
    As the rooftops of Lucca became engulfed by the warm embrace of the evening, the music room continued to fill with the melodies of Verdi, Puccini, Mozart and Humperdinck as, under the Contessa’s direction, COGOLcontinued to work through the programme for their approaching concert. Il Conte continued to look down appreciatively from behind his gossamer net and Carlo continued to growl softly to himself on his chair. And then, without any warning, the doors to the music room suddenly burst open to reveal Elizabeth. She was struggling with a large tray, on which was an assortment of tea things arranged in a haphazard fashion.
    â€˜â€™Twas sounding most malodourous , to be sure,’ she said as she strode purposefully across the room in the direction of the piano. ‘ Maladies of the great masters, so they are. But ’tis getting late and you need to have this, if you’re after having it at all. Herself knows Elzeebit can’t be doing well when it gets too dark,’ she said as she hefted the heavy tray and its clinking, quivering contents up to the piano and onto the heavy fringed cloth that covered the bottom half of it. ‘Herself might remember ’tis because of the contracts I’ll be having,’ she continued, ignoring everyone in the room and, once relieved of the burden of the tray, pointing towards her eyes, her fingers in a ‘V’ shape.
    â€˜Yes … how thoughtful. Thank you, Elizabeth. That will be all,’ said the Contessa, resigned to the interruption. They had almost finished, anyway. ‘Surely the electric light must be of some help to you, Elizabeth?’ she added. Even if she had felt any irritation at the sudden, unannounced arrival of the tea things, she had learned from long experience that she was totally powerless to do anything about Elizabeth’s perception of things. ‘ Angeli miei , let us stop there and take some tea,’ she continued, without giving Elizabeth an opportunity to respond. ‘ Bravi. You have all worked so hard tonight.’
    The Contessa’s singers closed in about the tea tray and proceeded to impose some form of order on the jumbled contents. They had all developed a taste for tea over the years of their involvement with COGOL, which was just aswell, as coffee was never on the menu. Elizabeth had retreated back across the room and was about to close the doors behind her, when she stopped in mid-action and glared at the group around the piano.
    â€˜And there’s none of them briskets , you’ll be noting … only what’s left of the cake.’ She grabbed the handles of the doors. ‘The bit he didn’t get!’ she muttered, thrusting her chin out in Carlo’s direction. Then she closed the doors with a bang.
    At the foot of the