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Authors: Mary Burchell

Tags: #Singers, #Opera

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BOOK: On wings of song
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*Thank you,' said Caroline and, glancing down at the article, she saw that Enid Mountjoy was among the judges.

When Ken returned she had time to show him the article before the orchestra started coming back, and he said immediately, *Enid Mountjoy, I see. Good! She has our set of values. Hm—hm— Anthony Graveney—^marvellous instrumentalist but knows little about singing. Very prestigious in his own field, of course. I suppose that's why they invited him.'

'And the others?' Caroline's voice was anxious.

He ran his finger down the list, commenting. 'That one represents money, of course, and fancies himself as a patron of the arts—oh, dear! we could have done without her. But let's hope someone intelligent like Enid sways her vote. Those three are quite good judges in a cautious way. As for the others—a pretty routine lot, Caroline. If Enid does her stuff and is sweetly authoritiative we should gather in some of the floating voters. A lot depends on her.'

During the second act Caroline strove to concentrate on the performance and forget the newspaper article. This became instantly much easier when Nicholas Brenner was on the stage; and when, as the ardent but doomed Lensky, he sang his lovely farewell to life, it was quite impossible to think about the Carruthers Contest or anything else.

*It's all SO Russian,^ commented someone sitting behind Caroline. 'Why on earth couldn't they have got together and had a little plain speaking? It would have saved such a lot of trouble.'

'But lost us some superb music/ countered her annoyed escort very truly. Caroline found herself exchanging a smile with Ken, and for a moment it was as though their previous happy relationship were restored.

She would not, however, allow him to escort her home. By good fortvme she ran into her friend from the Opera Studio again and, knowing she lived in much the same direction as herself, Caroline insisted on joining her.

It seemed that everyone in the next few weeks spoke of little but the Carruthers Contest. Newspaper comment was continual, fellow students were loud in their generous good wishes. Aunt Hilda said it upset her nerves just to think of it, and Jeremy took himself off to Germany, his hopes for his own affairs high and his advice to his cousin both affectionate and cautious.

'I should hate you to be cruelly disappointed,' he said sincerely. 'Even to make the semi-finals would be fine for anyone at your stage of

development ' he had somehow not been able

to make time to hear her or assess any progress she had made'—so be happy, Carrie dear, if you get a certificate of merit.'

Caroline said she would, though she had no intention whatever of being satisfied with any old certificate of merit.

As is usual in many contests, the competitors were divided into groups of six, and the winners

of each group went on to compete with each other. From these, the twelve best would then progress to the semi-finals, where six would be weeded out. The remaining six then went forward to the finals.

Unexpectedly, Caroline found herself petrified with fright at the very first *heat', and was genuinely surprised when she was unhesitatingly chosen as the winner of her group.

*I thought I should die,' she told Aunt Hilda, who replied,

*I thought I should too, sitting here alone at home, wondering what was happening. Thank goodness this early trial wasn't televised. I'm glad you won, dear, but I don't know what I'm going to do if you go on to further stages.'

*I don't know what I'm going to do if I don'tV replied Caroline, with a laugh.

*Well, don't be too self-confident,' said Aunt Hilda. 'And you might just go and turn out the oven. I think I smell something burning.'

It was not until the next round—what might be called the quarter finals—that it was obvious how stiff the competition was going to be. At this point the judging was taken over by the distinguished panel who would continue to the end. This was therefore the first time Caroline saw Enid Mountjoy, and immediately her hopes rose.

Not by the slightest sign, of course, did the distinguished elderly lady at the end of the row indicate any sort of preference. But, by that indefinable, almost psychic wave which can pass between two people, Caroline knew she had made her mark.

At the end she found herself among the twelve

who were to go forward to the semi-finals. She also found herself for the first time in her life being interviewed by an enthusiastic journalist who said emphatically, * You're a winner!'

She felt splendid, until she overheard him saying the same thing to another competitor, so that when she came to be photographed she was looking very solemn indeed.

*It doesn't flatter you,' Aimt Hilda said disparagingly as she regarded the rather smudgy result. 'Remember to smile if you get as far as being televised.'

Caroline, who felt she would never smile again, had no further comment to make.

There was a gap of a week before the semifinals, during which Caroline—and presumably the other contestants too—went through a veritable hell of conflicting hopes and fears.

'There's no need to panic at this stage,' Oscar Warrender told her in a disagreeable but oddly bracing way. 'People who succumb to nerves on the third rung of the ladder seldom reach the top—which is where your talents should take you eventually, even if you win nothing in this wretched contest.'

'I can't bear it if I win nothing,' cried Caroline.

'You may have no choice,' was the chilling reply. 'In our profession we have to learn to bear a lot of things. Endurance is an essential part of becoming an artist. Remember that.'

'I'll try, I'll try,' Caroline promised. 'And I think Enid Mountjoy is in my favour.'

'What makes you think that?' enquired Warrender with interest.

'Something—indefinable,' Caroline admitted.

*She didn't smile—at least no more than politely, as she did to all of us. But there's something about her sheer presence which reassures me.'

*Then sing specially for her,' Warrender said not unkindly.

So during the semi-finals Caroline sang specially for Enid Mountjoy. And at the end she dazedly heard her name among the six chosen to go forward to the finals, which were to take place in public before a large audience, with full TV coverage.

'Now I shall have to watch,' lamented Aimt Hilda. *I don't know how I can!'

Caroline suggested that it was more harrowing for the contestants, but Aunt Hilda would not have that.

'Oh, I don't know. At least all six of you will get something for your ordeal, I suppose.'

'A copper bowl and a certificate,' said Caroline crossly and ungratefully, but Aunt Hilda said how nice a copper bowl would look on the sideboard.

The finals were to take place on Friday, in the splendid hall of St Cecilia's Music College, famous for its superb acoustics and the fact that it could seat over a thousand people. Then on Wednesday the most extraordinary thing happened. Aimt Hilda presented Caroline with a hundred pounds and told her to go and buy a pretty dress for the occasion.

'Aimt Hilda!' Caroline was touched almost to tears. 'You darlingl You shouldn't have—^but oh, I'm so glad that you did! I didn't really want to wear my old white one.'

'Certainly not! White looks wishy-washy on

the screen. I couldn't have that. I waited to see if your mysterious patron was going to provide you with a dress for the occasion, but it appears not.'

'Oh, he couldn't, you know!'

^He?' Aunt Hilda looked outraged. *You always said it was a she. Do you mean you've been taking money from some strange man all this time?'

*No, no! Not exactly that.'

*How old is he?' asked Aimt Hilda inexorably.

And Caroline, crossing her fingers and hoping the Recording Angel was looking the other way, said he was seventy-two,

'Oh, well ' Aunt Hilda was mollified and

the moment of crisis passed. But it seemed that the Recording Angel had not been looking the other way, because retribution followed as swift as thought.

'Here's a bit more about the contest,' observed Aimt Hilda, glancing at the evening paper which had just arrived. 'There's a change in the panel of judges. One of them is ill and has to be replaced.'

'Which one?' Caroline almost snatched the paper, and then gave a gasp of dismay. 'It's Enid Mountjoy.—Oh, it can't be! She—she won't be there. Oh, what shall I do?'

'Don't be silly.' Her aunt took back the paper into her own keeping. 'It will be someone else just as good. It says so here. "She will be replaced by a judge of equal distinction".'

'It's not the same thing!' Caroline's voice registered complete tragedy, and suddenly she did something she would never have contemplated in any other circumstances. She went to the telephone and dialled the Warrenders' number.

It was the housekeeper who answered and she said, 'They're both out, Miss Caroline. They won't be home until late.'

*Thank you.' Slowly Caroline replaced the receiver. Then after a pause she picked it up again even more slowly and dialled another number. Almost immediately Kennedy Marshall's voice replied.

*Ken! It's Caroline. Have you seen the evening paper?'

'Yes. But I knew about Enid Moimtjoy's illness earlier in the day. Don't worry too much, Caroline. They're boimd to get someone very '

'But she is the one I was counting on. She liked me—I know she did. She gave me confidence in a way I can't describe. It may sound silly, but I felt we—^understood each other. You need someone like that when your courage is slipping.'

He made no reply to that, and after a moment, she asked, 'How did you know earlier in the day?'

'They applied to me—I suppose they tried other agents too—to see if I could suggest anyone on my books.'

'And couldn't you?'

There was an infinitesimal pause, and then he said, 'No, I'm afraid I couldn't. I had to tell them so.' And there seemed no more to say.

Back with Aunt Hilda Caroline tried to hide her nervous anxiety—to concentrate on the generous gift of the dress (as near as possible to the colour of her eyes. Aunt Hilda advised), but she shook with fear every time ^he saw herself facing that line of judges with no Enid Mountjoy to sustain her courage.

The next day she went to buy the dress, to which Aunt Hilda quite justifiably attached almost more importance than to the contest itself. As though by prior arrangement she discovered what in other circumstances she would have regarded as the dress of her dreams. It was the exact shade Aunt Hilda had advised, and cut on such simple and subtle lines that it was grace and charm personified.

Caroline knew she had never looked so lovely in her life. But she would have willingly traded the most glorious dress in the world for the secure knowledge that somehow Enid Moimtjoy would, by some miracle, be present on the jury after all.

Later in the day she went through the few items she had chosen to sing on the morrow, and Anthea at least tried to reassure her that all would be well. Warrender characteristically offered no such easy reassurance.

*I realise it's a major blow for you, Caroline,' he said. *But long before you're at the top of your profession you will have learned that these are the heart shaking emergencies we have to contend with. You're a gifted girl and a courageous girl. Don't disappoint me by allowing cowardice to ruin everything. I believe in you—and you must justify that belief.'

Then, to her immeasurable surprise, he kissed her before passing her on to Anthea's affectionate embrace.

*Good luck, darling,' said Anthea. 'And remember—you didn't find my diamond ring for nothing. That was fate, that was!'

Throughout the next twenty-four hours

Caroline clung to the words of support she had received in the Warrenders' flat. And when, dressed in the beautiful violet-blue dress so unexpectedly provided by Aunt Hilda, she was ready to leave for the scene of battle, she knew she had never before looked so arresting. Nor— she really had to admit it with all modesty—^more lovely.

*It's most becoming, Caroline!' Her aunt circled round her with beaming complacence. *rm so glad I thought of it. The shoddy white one wouldn't have done at all. I really will look in

tonight. I'll make myself do it ' she spoke as

though making up her mind to visit the dentist '—Mrs Corrigan said I must make the effort, and her son is going to fetch me in next door.'

Caroline praised her courage and resolution, as though it were Aunt Hilda who was to battle her way to success or failure that evening. Then she drove away in the hired car which her employer had insisted on providing when she refused to let him drive her in person.

*It will make me more nervous to be with someone I know,' she had said, and he had accepted that.

Backstage in the hall the place was crowded and the atmosphere tense. Technicians were holding microphones or trailing wires, producers and assistant producers were issuing directions, competitors appeared from time to time at their dressing-room doors, to receive bouquets from management or well-wishers. They also exchanged sickly smiles and tried not to hate each other.

A young assistant director who had compli-

mented Caroline more than once during the early stages of the contest informed her encouragingly that the hall was filling up splendidly.

'Do you want to come and see for yoiurself ?' he asked. 'There's a convenient peephole at the side of the stage.'

She shook her head and said it might make her even more nervous.

'It wouldn't, you know,' he reassured her. 'In a way it's better to receive the impact of the scene before you actually make your entrance to sing. Then you don't have the shock of finding that perhaps it's different from what you've visualised.'

That seemed good sense, and Caroline accompanied him to the side of the stage.

'A little more this way,' he directed her. 'I think that applause means that the judges are coming in.'

'Oh ' She immediately applied her eye to

the peephole, eager to see the people who held her fate in ^eir hands. For a moment it was difficult to focus. Then, as the complete scene swung into view and she saw the judges moving in, she let out an audible gasp. For the distinguished substitute for Enid Moimtjoy was Lucille Duparc.

BOOK: On wings of song
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