She brushed Kim aside and strode on into the hall, determined to be professional at all costs.
Although von Ritter looked slightly less impeccable than usual, his eyes shadowed by dark rings and his shirt a little rumpled, he was able to keep a firm eye on Dafydd and there was nothing in the way of provocation during the rehearsal. Everybody kept their heads well down in their musical scores and worked hard to achieve perfect performances of the Egmont and Coriolan overtures.
Their mid-morning break was well earned and Vanessa sat back on her chair, eyes closed, waiting for Ben to come back from the vending machine with coffees. He took his time, though. Must be a queue.
In fact, there was no queue. Ben had headed for the corner where the machines stood and was fumbling with his coins when a voice spoke behind him.
“Ben. Isn’t it?”
He turned around to see Dafydd ap Hughes looming behind him, a great barrel of a man, his broad
face beaming with a smile that looked affable enough. On the surface.
“That’s right,” said Ben carefully, not returning the smile.
“Well, Ben. Good to meet you.”
He held out his hand. Ben shook it.
“Thanks,” he said.
“Where did you study? Royal Academy? RCM?”
“Guildhall,” said Ben.
“Ah, right. Ness and I were RCM. And…when did you leave? Yesterday?” Ap Hughes laughed hugely.
“2007, actually,” said Ben, his tone frosty.
“2007? As long ago as that? You look about twelve.”
Ben touched his cheek. “It’s my moisturiser. I recommend it.”
“Do you, now, boy? Well, let me give you a tip in return.” Dafydd leant forward confidentially. Despite his being several inches shorter than Ben, he didn’t seem to be at any physical disadvantage whatsoever. “Stay away from my wife.”
“Ex-wife, don’t you mean?”
“No. No, I don’t mean that. We never got divorced.”
“What?”
Ben dropped his money on the floor.
“You heard me. She didn’t want the hassle or expense. We’re still married, boy. You and she are committing adultery. So hands off. Got it?”
Ben, scrabbling on the floor for his coins, looked up through a fall of floppy hair.
“Fuck you,” he said. “Vanessa can see whoever she wants.”
“No,” said Dafydd, bending low. “She can see whoever I want. I’m going to get her back, boy. Just watch me.”
As ap Hughes turned and strutted away, Ben threw a two pence coin after him, frustrated by a nagging feeling that he hadn’t won the exchange.
Back in the rehearsal room, he sat down next to Vanessa and handed her her coffee.
“Your Mr ap Hughes really is a cunt, isn’t he?” he said conversationally.
Vanessa, who had been wondering where on earth her lover had been, snorted coffee all over her lap.