Silent - The Concert

Two Years Ago, Gavin

Friday, day of the concert. Jace seemed jittery.  Lucy still wasn't answering her phone, he told me.  By now, she would be back in Yorkshire. At quarter to one, he took his seat in the audience and I went to sit in the Green Room behind the stage before my turn.  

A couple of people performed before me. I was due on last. In the background, I heard applause, followed by mentor Dawn voice whispering my name, telling me to go on, wishing me the best. I opened the door and stepped out. Walked over to the grand piano and took a bow.  Warmed up with a couple of Chopin preludes, just to set the tone. Yeah, pretty nervous.  All the musical staff had come and Arthur Harlesden was there too.

The front rows were full of people, mostly Arthur's connections and Terence's business contacts, and I spotted members of the press among the audience, along with a major adjudicator from major competition.  Oh no, not here!  That awful, sickie feeling.  Please, go away, adjudicator.  

I started the Chopin scherzo. Adrenaline surged through me, enabling me to pull off the triplets and octaves with ease. I launched into the opening D-flat arpeggios confidently, so confidently that I could have played with my eyes shut.  

Everything will be okay… I'll be on my way home tomorrow…Terence will help me…I can go back to piano performing and make it work.

I reached the end of the first section and did the repeat. The slow section in C sharp minor came next. Chopin's sadness, carefully contained, set against a Polish sense of rhythm and beat. The sadness in the music gave way to a fast playful waltz, followed by a display of bravura, arpeggios over a range of octaves, all taken with one hand for technical effect and brilliance.
 
Easy, wow!  I'm the best player in the world and the music's fantastic. I'll even forgive Kieran for getting me sent here in the first place.
 
I started on the repeat of the slow section, the initial sadness and Polish sense of three to a bar.  Then, unexpectedly, I caught a glimpse of a figure from the corner of my eye. Two figures high up in the auditorium, standing by the entrance alcove, staring down at me. Smirking.

Philippa and Aidan.  

Aidan made some type of mocking gesture to me, and I came to from the music, shaking all over, aware of puzzled glances from the audience, of people turning round. I was also aware of Philippa and Aidan nudging each other and giggling. They took seats several rows down. Kissed. A lingering kiss.

Sweat streamed down my face and my fingers began to lose their strength and focus. The auditorium seemed to tilt and oscillate and I felt the huge ceiling caving in, crashing down on me. My heart seemed to lodge in my throat and I watched myself slam my fists down on the piano keys with an anguished scream, get up and storm off into the green room, pursued by Terence Harlesden and his father Arthur.

Except I didn't.  Something kept me there, glued to the piano stool; it guided my hands and gradually slowed my heart from chaotic to rapid. It instructed me to continue playing and not make eye contact with the audience. The second display of bravura over, I reached the recapitulation, and finally the concluding coda with its triumphant downpour of arpeggios, pouring everything I had into the music.  

Performance over.

Exhausted, I get up to take a bow.

The applause exploded, washing over me, making me giddy. It went on for longer than usual, almost as if the audience had noticed my dilemma and respected me for continuing without stopping  – every performer's nightmare. The theatre continued to tilt and oscillate, ready to cave in and crush me, and I was hot and sweaty. As soon as I could, I left the auditorium.

That's when the chanting started:  Encore!  Encore!  Encore!

Dawn, oblivious to what had happened with Philippa and Aidan in the auditorium, said: 'Come on, Gavin, you gave a fantastic performance in there. They want at least three encores.' She pushed me out of the green room before I could protest, and once more I walked over to the piano, sweating, shaking, certain I would go completely crazy.

The cheering and shouting in the audience continued, just like it had a few evenings earlier when Agnes Harlesden had stepped on stage after a period abroad. Trembling still, I sat on the piano stool and forced myself to play through two of the Chopin studies. I let my memory to all the work, as I couldn't concentrate or even appreciate the audience's admiration.  Philippa had gone one step too far: attempted to disrupt my performance.

The concert over, Terence Harlesden and Jace joined me in the green room. 'Hey, that worked,' Terence said. 'You brought the house down. Phone me on Monday. I can get you a full evening debut at Leeds Town Hall in eighteen months – a full evening debut, that's impressive –and there's loads more. I've had three offers already, at important venues. One guy's talking about getting you to play at the Purcell Room. You're made, mate.'

Jace nodded. 'It was awesome. I'm well impressed.'

'Didn't you see what happened?' I said, in a daze. 'Everything's finished. I ruined the performance.'

Terence answered. 'Did you?  I didn't notice.  Did you, Jace?'

'Nope. It was wicked. You're mental, mate. The best.'

'Do you know what they're all saying in there?' Terence went on. 'They're saying Philippa's a spiteful, jealous attention-seeker. Everyone's on your side, mate. Everyone's in awe of you.'

'Even me,' Jace said. 'Hey, it's good we met, posh boy.'

'I wish my Steve would pull himself together and do something amazing, like this young man,' Terence said. He withdrew a couple of twenties from his wallet and handed them to me. 'I'm proud of you. You've proved what you can do. Go for a breather, and have some fun on me. Be good, you two.'