Chapters (35)
If you’re not yet a subscriber, we hope that you’ll want to join our publishing revolution and have your name listed in one of our books in the future. To get you started, here is a £5 discount on your first pledge. Just visit unbound.com, make your pledge and type ghostvaria in the promo code box when you check out. Thank you for your support,
Dan, Justin and John
Founders, Unbound
4
Super Patrons
Etienne Abelin
Rami Abiel
Rebecca Agnew
Dimitri Ashkenazy
Louise Barder
Judith Barnard
Luiza Borac
Richard Bratby
Julian Brewer
Judith Bronkhurst
Nicky Brown
Tim Bullamore and Lisa McCormick
Trevor Campbell Davis
Desmond Cecil
R. and C. Chatsworth
Nicola Creed
Ellen Dahrendorf
Alexandra Dariescu
Robert Dean
Dr Marc Desautels
Colin Dick
John Dilworth
Michael Duchen
Harriet Eisner
David Eisner
Susan Elkin
Timothy Fancourt
Katie Fforde
Sadie Fields
Margaret Fingerhut
Colin Ford
Sophie Fuller
M G
Harold Gray
Anthony Hacking
Kulvinder Hambleton-Grey
Mary Hamer
Nigel Hamway
Laszlo Harkanyi
Julian Haylock
Rustem Hayroudinoff
Anthony Hewitt
Amanda Hurton
Steven Isserlis
Nani Jansen
Guy Johnston
Dan Kieran
Judith Knott
Horst Kolodziej
Piers Lane
Jane and George Little
Harriet Mackenzie
Roxanna Macklow-Smith
Samuel Magill
Ben Mandelson
Dr. Marion Gedney
Paul Maskell
Hugh Mather
Murray McLachlan
Viv McLean
Alice McVeigh
Zamira Menuhin Benthall
James Mews
John Mitchinson
Francis Norton
Nadia Ostacchini
Lewis Owens
Lev Parikian
Norman Perryman
Sarah Playfair
Justin Pollard
Catherine Rogers
Andrew Rose
Tomoyuki Sawado
Seb Scotney
Margaret Semple
Sue Shorter
Mary Sigmond
Steven Spooner
Eleanor Stanier
Gillian Stern
Clare Stevens
Tot Taylor
Madelyn Travis
Irmina Trynkos
Robin Tyson
Liubov Ulybysheva
Angelo Villani
Marion von Hofacker
Jo W
Ricki Wagner
Helen Wallace
5
For Michael, Laura, Hannah, Ben, Luca, Toby and Tom, with all my love
6
With grateful thanks to my brother, Michael Duchen, through whom I first learned to love the violin
Prologue
16 February 1938
She stood at the side of the stage, invisible to the audience; violin in one hand, bow in the other, her eyes half closed against the brightness above. A thrum of expectation was reaching her from the gathered listeners in the auditorium. Outside, in Regent Street, snow had been falling when she arrived; now it felt like a benediction. Her dress was white and silver, bright and pure, as if she were taking her first communion.
This concert would be unlike any other she had given. During one concerto by a composer of genius, a piece nobody here had heard before, she must prove that every note she had played, every letter she had written, every pain she had battled, was worthwhile for its sake. Half an hour to learn whether she was still herself, still strong after the past years’ turmoil; still there to command the concert platform that used to be her true home. Alone, inward, she summoned one spirit, and prayed for his blessing. ‘In art alone,’ she remembered, ‘we find salvation.’
‘Ready, Jelly?’ Adrian was beside her, calm on the outside but, who knows, perhaps as tumult-ridden within as she felt.
‘Ready.’
He stood aside to let her walk on stage first. She crossed herself, then stepped forward into the light.