“I’m sorry, but the answer’s no.”

Lena is following the conversation attentively.

“I don’t follow. What is it you don’t like? The date? The place? The orchestra? The soprano? The Queen?”

“Please, don’t insist. The reasons are personal.”

The emissary loses some of his patience and his capacity for diplomacy. “So what are these blessed personal reasons?”

Fred does not reply.

Lena begins to understand. We have no idea what Fred means, but she does. And without letting herself be seen, she starts sobbing silently.

“If the reasons are personal it’s because the person isn’t prepared to say.”

“Help me to resolve these personal problems. What is it that’s not right?”

Fred says, at random: “The soprano.”

The emissary beams. He thinks he has found the solution. “Then we’ll change her. No problem.”

“There’d be no point.”

“Even though Sumi Jo is the greatest of all sopranos and has said she’s very keen to be directed by you? I said very keen? She was over the moon.”

“I’m not interested.”

“What do you have against her?”

“Nothing at all! I don’t even know her.”

“Well then?”

For the first time Fred loses his patience. He raises his voice, almost shouting. “That’s enough! Enough!”

Lena is now crying a little more, her eyes full of tears. She tries to hide the fact.

The emissary notices and cannot understand. He falls silent. He has no idea what to say. He throws his arms out wide, defeated. “I really don’t understand. What is the problem?”

Fred shouts again, the words coming out in a stream, without thinking. “The problem is that ‘Simple Songs’ were composed for my wife. And only my wife has sung them. Only my wife has recorded them. And as long as I’m alive only my wife will sing them. But the problem, my dear sir, is that my wife can no longer sing them. Have you now understood? Have you?”

Lena has put her hands over her face to stop her tears. Fred seems exhausted, beside himself.

The emissary has nothing left to say. He gets to his feet, stubbing the cigarette out in the packet. In dismay, he replies, “Yes, I understand now, and from the bottom of my heart ask you to forgive me.”

Very quickly he makes for the exit.

Fred and Lena remain as they are. He is staring into space, she is in tears behind him.

*

Down the corridors, the little bells start to tinkle merrily.

On the footbridge where the members of staff go to smoke, they all extinguish their cigarettes and, like a flock of sheep being rounded up, return to the hotel and go back to work.

32

The young masseuse pours oil over her hands.

Lying on his stomach on the massage table, his head set in the face hole, Fred is looking down at the floor where he can see a woman’s tiny sandals.

The girl gently spreads her palms on Fred’s naked back and starts to massage, but shortly afterwards she stops.