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and it was a potent reminder of how it used to affect him, too. He remembered times when tears would stream down his face as he was singingbut only just. It was years and years since that had happened. Was it surprising that some of his enthusiasm had waned when his whole world had revolved around singing since he was parcelled off to choir school at the tender age of eleven? The passion and drama hadn't gone out of his performances, but they had in recent years gone out of his heart. It would be nice to think that he might recapture that through Fern's eyes. If she did that for him, then whatever they were paying her was worthwhilehe allowed himself a rueful smileeven though she forgot to tell him about important appointments.

    To inject some new life into his creativity was part of the reason he had agreed to come to Britain in the first place. One of the projects on the cards was recording an album with some of the up-and-coming stars of the future. Rupert assured him that it was a marvellous thing to do. Evan felt it was more like the sort of publicity stunt someone like Tom Jones would be involved in. Not that he blamed Tom. To be hanging in there in the entertainment business after all that time was something of a miracle and, no doubt, you had to use every trick in the book to do it. He just wasn't sure if he wanted that for himself. Already, he was criticised by the purists as being 'too commercial'. He wondered what they'd make of it if he started recording with Keane or Athlete or some of the other bands he'd only just heard of. What would it do for their street cred, too? It had never hurt Freddie Mercury's career to sing with Monserrat Caballe, he supposed. That, primarily, was why he'd allowed Rupert to set up some 'exploratory' sessions for him with a few new kids on the blockmainly acts that Rupert also represented. There was no harm in that, either. Over the years Rupert had made him one of the most sought-after and highly paid opera stars in the worlda long way from the impoverished chorus member he'd once been. So what if Rupert wanted to exploit him a little every now and then. His agent was always telling Evan that he had a unique talent that he should fully embrace, and it was true, there were very few people who were comfortable singing anything from contemporary songs to Broadway show tunes to Mozart arias. Perhaps it was time to unleash that on the world. Evan smiled indulgently at the other man. He'd drawn the line when Rup mentioned hip-hop though.

    'We'd better get a move on, Evan.' His agent tapped his watch. 'If we want some money for the arts out of this wretched government, then I suggest we don't start the evening by being late.'

    Without argument, Evan followed Rupert to the door and to the waiting limousine. The other reason that he was in Britain was to open the new National Welsh Opera House in Cardiff in a few weeks' time. This evening was a formal celebration of the forthcoming event and an excuse to go cap in hand to the tightwads in the Treasury who controlled the funding for developing arts. It had long been a pet project of Evan's to try to get opera to a wider audience. His dream was that it wouldn't be seen as some expensive, elitist pastime and that he could bring it to inner cities and to kids in schools. The California Opera House provided free 'brown bag' opera performances every year, which were staged in Yerba Buena Gardens, and a huge annual feast at the Golden Gate Park, which celebrated the opening of the fall opera season. Both were open to all comers and were some of the most exciting events that Evan had been involved inbringing opera to the massesand he'd be taking part in another one later this year. That was something he'd certainly like to see over here, but when this country didn't even seem to have enough money to clean its hospitals anymore, it certainly felt like an uphill struggle. Did people really feel that their life was the poorer for never having seen a