50

‘AN excursion outside?’ the composer says, repeating her question. ‘Yes. I would enjoy that. After so long within this room. And having heard all you have told me, I now find myself curious to see this flying machine.’

‘Meaning you will come?’

She is like a little girl, he thinks. A girl wanting an adult’s approval for a project she has conceived. And he wants to make her smile.

‘Tomorrow – why not? I have no other appointments. And my work is close to being completed. So, if our reliable manager can organise some transport – perhaps he would enjoy a day out of town also.’

‘You know I would prefer that you came with us. But—’

The composer raises one hand, silencing her.

‘I understand. It is best some mystery is maintained. Some things are best left unsaid. And in this paddock you have talked about, I will keep some distance. Like a member of the chorus, to one side, almost off the stage altogether, who is never noticed.’

Bess clasps her hands together, pleased.

She has noticed that the papers on the piano lid are less messy. And there are far fewer loose sheets scattered on the floor.

‘Is it true – your work is almost done?’

‘For now, yes. Close to the end.’

She picks up a sheet.

‘What is this? Something from the last Act?’

He takes it from her. Squints slightly to read it. Then replies:

‘No. This is the love duet from Act Two. Dick Johnson the outlaw and his Minnie.’ Softly, as if reading the lyrics for the first time, he recites: ‘“Mia gioia, o amor! Con te, mio amor, con te!” But these are just words. If only you could hear my music that accompanies them. Rises above everything.’

‘I hope to hear it one day. But what do those words mean? I know very little Italian.’

‘What do they mean?’

He looks straight at her.

‘What joy, my love, to be with you.’

Silence. Then Audran knocks on the door.