It was a few minutes before people stopped talking enough for Lydia to be heard above them.
“I have to tell you something. Milan can’t make it to the rehearsal. He’s ill.”
The way she said ‘ill’ gave Vanessa a very strong feeling that something was badly wrong.
“Ill?” called out one of the cheekier cellists. “Or did you just keep him up all night?”
Lydia’s face flushed bright red and she swallowed hard. Vanessa wanted to take her by the hand and drag her off the podium. She looked fit to drop herself, let alone the indisposed Milan.
“He sends his apologies and hopes he’ll be better by tomorrow. In the meantime, he asked if Leonard could take us through Mars and Uranus.”
“Did he take you through Uranus last night?” muttered Ben beside her, and Vanessa snorted with laughter despite her sympathies.
“Naughty!” she whispered.
“Yes, I am. Very.” He nudged her.
She nearly melted.
Lydia almost threw herself off the podium in her haste to escape the focus of attention, leaving the path clear for a very put-out Leonard.
“This’ll be a mess,” Vanessa remarked to Ben. “He’s had no time to prepare.”
“Yep, one hot mess,” Ben replied. “But at least we get some percussion action.”
That’s not the only action I want today…
“Are you wearing a different perfume?” Ben asked, rubbing
the drumstick round and round the drum in front of Vanessa, in a manner she hoped was suggestive.
“Yes. I’m surprised you noticed.”
“Why?”
“Just…you know… I didn’t think you were in the habit of…sniffing me.” She smirked, avoiding his eyes.
He moved closer.
“Actually, I am. You reward a good deep sniff.”
She had no idea what to say to that. All she could do was stand stock still, quivering slightly, while his nose dropped lower and lower…
Then Leonard tapped the podium with his baton and they straightened back up, shaking out of their dangerous trance.
For the next couple of hours, Vanessa tried to dismiss the hazy, sensual hangover Ben had induced in her. The Holst was fun for both of them—she got to give the kettledrums a proper hammering, while Ben went to town on the xylophone and, by the end of the rehearsal, both were panting as if they’d performed a workout.
They looked at each other and laughed.
“This is what it’s all about.” Ben grinned.
“Did you have to be so loud?” The new harpist’s enquiry was laden with ennui and disgust.
“Well, yes. I believe the direction in the score is fortissimo.” Vanessa hadn’t taken to Sarah Latimer, and her response was accordingly frosty.
“You’ve damaged my eardrums, I’m sure.” She picked up her bag and stalked out.
Ben and Vanessa looked at each other and made faces, their lips rounded into ‘ooh!’ shapes.